The Last Tear

A little escape, an opportunity to see each other, a moment to love one another. The risk was high, the consequences atrocious, but the pleasure... That was unmatchable. They could be together one last time, to feel one last time each other’s smooth touch, a last breath...?

“Eleanor, please. Leave!” Peter begged.

“I want to be with you... One last time...”

“You know that if we’re caught, we’re both dead. Please, I don’t want to be responsible for the fall of a flower.”

“Believe me, if a flower can feel the last rays of sun, it will be worth the sacrifice.” Eleanor concluded, opening her lover’s cell right away. “Let’s go, follow me.”

They ran off towards the woods next to the small village. The village didn’t have more than ten houses, a prison and a little market. Its colours didn’t diverge much from that brown tone of the dirt soil, except for the pink flowers and the blue curtains, which gave the place an uncommon beauty.

“Where are we going?”

“To heaven.” The girl informed him.

Eleanor, perhaps just following her heart, led Peter through the leafy trees, not paying much attention to the way, her eyes locked on the boy next to her. His hair was so dark that Eleanor had to blink her eyes several times, to make sure she wasn’t staring at the emptiness. However, his blue eyes were so bright that, despite of never having seen the ocean, she was sure that was its colour.

“We’re here.” Eleanor announced, standing at the edge of a clearing.

“But this... Wow...”

Peter was speechless amazed by the place that surrounded them. Never had he imagined that in the middle of such a dense forest could exist a beautiful clearing. And the most surprising was a waterfall in the extreme north that poured the liquid into a peaceful and refreshing lake. The waters were so serene undisturbed that, for a moment, Peter forgot he’d been sentenced to death. The moonlight reflected on the water illuminated the scene, making it even more beautiful, like the most delicate flowers possess a unique, vivid and stunning glow.

“How did you find this place?”

“I’ve never been here before. I think it was an instinct or... I was guided by Gods.” Eleanor replied.

Peter looked at her more carefully. Eleanor was no longer a child and, at the age of seventeen, she was already more mature than certain women from the village. The girl was, in fact, very pretty. Her face had both adult and childish features, which gave her an outstanding beauty. Her blonde hair delicately fell down her back, waving to the wind’s delight that softly blew in that summer night. Two locks of hair fell on her face framing her green eyes. Eleanor had always had that vibrant glow of cheerfulness and cleverness and, in the long journey Peter had made to arrive at the village, he’d never seen such an eye colour.

“You know, I’d never thought of dying this way, but if our love is forbidden, then I’m going to accept the consequences of such a feeling.”

“I don’t want it; I really don’t want you to die because you loved me.”

“If humble humans can’t understand, only the Gods’ approval matters.”

It was with the rush of such striking words that Eleanor gave herself to Peter that night, letting her be guided to the lake that forever kept that moment of pure love. They loved each other like no one had loved no other. That, right there, was their love, the love that was no longer just a projection on an intelligible world. Peter and Eleanor had reached, even if unconsciously, what was absolute love for one another. Nature, as if aware of such a passion, offered them the most beautiful moment of their lives, by presenting them with its fireflies to illuminate them with their smooth and subtle light, surrounding them in a frenetic dance of joy.

“I want to be yours forever.” The girl whispered in Peter’s ear. “And you will be. Believe me.”

And like that they stayed during the night: kissing, caressing and exploring each other. Eleanor never forgot that moment and, even now that she’s old, she remembered and missed her adolescence’s passion, a passion that marked her heart. Never did she love someone again, not with such intensity.

The following morning brought with it the excruciating moment they had been trying to deny in their minds. Peter was going to be hanged in the main square and, as if to make everything worse, Eleanor’s parents had forced her to assist such a cruel act.

The boy walked up the stairs to the platform, not showing fear nor sorrow. On the contrary, his face reflected happiness, as if that was possible.

Aggressively the hangman placed a rope around Peter’s neck, positioning him above the trapdoor. Eleanor didn’t lose eye-contact with Peter and, even if they couldn’t communicate out loud, they were changing silent words of love and passion. But, as it had to happen sooner or later, the trapdoor was opened and, even suffering and getting closer to death Peter didn’t stop gazing at Eleanor, letting clear he was dying for the love he had for her.

“I love you, Eleanor.” Peter’s last words hang softly in the air, as did his last breath and, still he smiled.

“I love you too, Peter.” The girl replied in a whisper, letting a tear fall down, taking with it a mix of pain and joy.

That was, indeed, the last tear cried because of such a passion.