The Sound of The Wind

The involuntary gasp, as the element of surprise took her. The sword was so close to her now, all she had to do was to stumble. Like that. Her combatant laughed at her flailing corps as it hit the ground. A scream of pain, that erupted from the crowd with the teenager.

“Monica! MONICA!” The teenager screamed moving in closely he rapped his arms around her body, and kissing her forehead.

Those big sapphire eyes, wide with the shadow of surprise, but transfixed to her teenage lover.

The long brown hair covered her pale face still imprinted with the last touches of life, a silent echo. She seemed to be mustering all her energy just to look at the lover in front of her.

“Marc.” The single name spoken from those elegant lips, he closed his eyes fighting back the single tear as he remembered their soft touch, only to open them to see them tainted by the damned crimson.

“Monica.” That’s all Marc could utter as he watched the face of his lover, her lids getting heavier. All she wanted to do was go to the light.

“Marc. I-” The painful gasp as her last breaths were becoming rapidly spent- “I love you.”

Then her eyes began to close, the lids covering the almost empty orbs. But he would beat it just to have his say.

“I love you too.” Then he watched, and as if in spite, each single movement seemed to last like an age on the earth. Her head dropped, her eyes fluttered close. Her voice slowly died, and only the echoes of it played in his mind. The three words. “I love you.” Over and over again. The slow torturer. The evil memory. The sound of the wind.

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Again he read the words on the gravestone, he would carry that dear to his heart.

As you look up at the sky, and feel the wind on your face. Listen. You will remember the sound of the wind

Marc stood the tears again dripping silently onto the text.

He always did it. Always felt the wind on his face, he closed his eyes and listened. And whenever he listened he heard her. He heard her decaying voice, her name rattled in the wind. He heard the last rapidly spent breaths, her last words.

“Marc I-I love you.” Then he saw her face, and he would smile and wipe the tear from his eye. Then carry on picturing her, his talisman; his soul mate. He did so until he died 70 years later, just another figure wasting away in the shadows. Another life dissolving unnoticed by anybody and uncared. Marc remembered, he remembered as the heart attack began to take affect. He remembered, yes he remembered The Sound of the Wind. The paramedics rushed to him, they put him on a stretcher.

“You’re going to be fine. Stay with us, come on stay with us.” the paramedic sat in the back about to perform CPR.

Marc looked at him and the words left his lips, as strained as Monica’s had all hose years ago.

“Listen. The sound of the wind.”

On his gravestone, he had two words imprinted, two words that if understood portrayed his life story.

I Listened.