Chapter 1

There was never more a perfect night than the one that these two lovers’ were sharing.

We are the hollow men

We are the stuffed men

Leaning together

Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!

Our dried voices, when

We whisper together

Are quiet and meaningless

As wind in dry grass

Or rats’ feet over broken glass

In our dry cellar

They were wrapped quietly in each others arms, breathing shallowly, and were in peace.

Shape without form, shade without colour,

Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Soft snores of contentment were heard throughout the still room, and the night air had begun to cool.

Those who have crossed

With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom

Remember us—if at all—not as lost

Violent souls, but only

As the hollow men

The stuffed men.

The soft glow of the moonlight came in from a large window set in the north corner of the room. A silent cold breeze blew in and made the man instinctively shiver, pulling the blankets tighter up against their bodies.

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams

In death’s dream kingdom

These do not appear:

There, the eyes are

Sunlight on a broken column

There, is a tree swinging

And voices are

In the wind’s singing

More distant and more solemn

Than a fading star.

The girl suddenly opened her eyes, and was startled for a second, until she felt the warmth of her lover behind her. She sighed and closed her eyes again, but was not able to fall asleep.

Let me be no nearer

In death’s dream kingdom

Let me also wear

Such deliberate disguises

Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves

In a field

Behaving as the wind behaves

No nearer—

Her eyes closed and her breathing deeper she tried to slip away from the mans’ tight hold on her body. But his arm tightened around her, and she sighed contented, and smiled because she knew she he was there.

Not that final meeting

In the twilight kingdom

The man woke with a start, a small pressure on his arm, and he felt the girl try to get away from him. He tightened his arm and kept her to him. A smile graced his lips and he fell back asleep at her sigh.

This is the dead land

This is cactus land

Here the stone images

Are raised, here they receive

The supplication of a dead man’s hand

Under the twinkle of a fading star.

The girl was impatient now, and she slid out from under her lover’s arm with more force than necessary, having him wake from his light slumber. “I must go now” she told him in a soft silky voice, her fire red locks falling over her eyes that burned with something inhuman.

Is it like this

In death’s other kingdom

Waking alone

At the hour when we are

Trembling with tenderness

Lips that would kiss

Form prayers to broken stone.

“Where are you going?” He asked her, his deep rumble echoing in the small but empty room. “The Garden” And that was the answer she left with him as she disappeared.

The eyes are not here

There are no eyes here

In this valley of dying stars

In this hollow valley

This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

He knew where she was going, but didn’t know whether to go after her or just leave her alone. He decided the former, disappearing with only the small blanket wrapped around him.

In this last of meeting places

We grope together

And avoid speech

Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

She was sitting on the riverbed, eating a small fruit when he came up behind her. He kissed the nape of her neck and making the girl shiver. “I thought I told you not to eat the fruit” His black eyes connected with her red ones, and they shared a knowing look between them.

Sightless, unless

The eyes reappear

As the perpetual star

Multifoliate rose

Of death’s twilight kingdom

The hope only

Of empty men.

“You didn’t tell me not to eat it, just them” Her voice, now with a cutting edge responded. “I told everyone not to eat it,” His rumble becoming a low growl and his eyes getting deeper. “I like it here” She told him, and he nodded his head in understanding.

Here we go round the prickly pear

Prickly pear prickly pear

Here we go round the prickly pear

At five o’clock in the morning.

“Can I have it?” She asked, and he looked at her disbelief written all across his face. “What would you do with it?” He asked. “I would like to have it, to know that you created it, planted it all put all your effort into it, and to know that you love me enough to give me such a beautiful gift as this.”

Between the idea

And the reality

Between the motion

And the act

Falls the Shadow

For Thine is the Kingdom

“But I cannot give it to you, the garden is mine,” voice hardening at every word. “I put hard work into this garden, and it is not something that I would give away this easily” His voice stern, and unmoving.

Between the conception

And the creation

Between the emotion

And the response

Falls the Shadow

Life is very long

She looked back at him, red eyes leering, but he didn’t notice it. “Do you love me?” She asked, barely a whisper taken by the breeze. He didn’t move, didn’t open his mouth, didn’t think. But she knew his answer, and she got up angrily.

Between the desire

And the spasm

Between the potency

And the existence

Between the essence

And the descent

Falls the Shadow

For Thine is the Kingdom

“I gave you all I had, gave you every ounce of myself that I had to give. I put myself in your arms, I gave you me and even so, you can’t love me for who I am.” He looked at her, a question in his eyes, and she answered it for him. “I love you, no matter what you feel for me. But I can’t stand here and wait for you to love me. I have to become what you created me to be.”

For Thine is

Life is

For Thine is the

Fire sprang from her eyes, and she threw the fruit down on the ground. Flames fell from her eyes, and a fire began around her, and all the man could do was watch her with his beautiful black eyes.

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper.

The garden burned, but the fruit remained. Her last good-bye muttered to the wind. Hoping it would carry the words to him, hoping that somehow he’d change his mind.

A/N: This is a new story I’ve started. I couldn’t get Black As Dark As Midnight back up. I was going in circled with the story and didn’t really know what was going to happen in the story or what was even going on. No outline and runoff scenes that I gave up. But I hope that I will and can continue on this story. I just need some help and reviews would be nice too.

Oh, and the italics are not mine, they are T.S Eliot’s poem The Hollow Men. I take no credit for it, I repeat again, it is not mine.