Horizon of a Crimson Sun

By Talyn Gray




He would always be waiting for her in the night.

He would always stare at her as if it were all he needed to sustain himself. She was his water, his sustenance, his air. Rosaline didn't know his name, where he came from, how old he was… she just knew that he was hers, though it was only at night that he would come.

Sanguine sweet, standing in the midnight sun,

You have hardly waged and fought, yet you have me won

He would wait for her when her eyes slid shut, when the velvet darkness of her own papery eyelids descended in curtains to hide the real world. He would wait for her in the same striking position against the dying crimson sun, even his casual stance was like a god among mortals. His body was always a black painted silhouette against the brightness of the incandescence. He was a dream. Rosaline's dream.

Boys at school would court her with drooling mouths, salivating from their crooked, imperfect jaws like the barbarians they were with comments that would get them arrested. They weren't him. They were sloppy and loud, shy and too indirect. She was not a contest. She was not their prize.

Together with you my heart sings and flies

Forever breaking when it comes to unraveling ties

He was the essence of her being, the one standing perfection that no other could ever hope to attain. In her dreams, when she would glide closer, his tousled dark hair would contrast with the sun behind him, his eyes a molten gold. There was no one like him, not even a few.

There can be no other, for I have only tasted you

Gone in morning, when such dreams are untrue

Her friends would tease her for thinking and dreaming of such a man, a man who was perfect in every way, a man who would hold her to him in such tight, safe security that she cried when he would let go.

They would tease her for believing that someday, maybe if she wished hard enough, he would come to wait for her on the horizon in reality, look at her with that same caressing, soft smiling gaze. They would tease her for dreaming of those kisses that never happened, for after the embrace, their lips would be only a whisper away and never touch. She would wake up, her body screaming at her in protest.

The way the heart breaks within my chest

You leave me in the dawn, my mind possessed

How Rosaline yearned for the touch of his flesh against hers; their lips becoming one and relishing each other, for she knew what he would taste like.

Rosaline went through high school without a kiss, an embrace, a boyfriend. She graduated with the deluded sense that she would meet him one day with his tanned skin, his fiery hot eyes, and that thick, black hair.

When will you come true?

He would greet her at the horizon, a strong hand outstretched, tell her she looked beautiful. And when she would wake up, there would be that dull throbbing in her chest, that perpetual ache for him.

"She's crazy," some guys would say about her. "She thinks there's this ultimate man out there for her, I feel sorry for her."

When will you take me away from all things in unsatisfactory hue?

Rosaline's eyes would fool her, laugh at her. Every time she saw a silhouette against the sun, her heart would skip and sprint and she would wonder, was it him? Had he finally come to take her away from the land of humans where corruption and idiocy reigned supreme?

But he never came.

When will you restart my heart anew?

Not until her sophomore year in college.

Her professor had been droning a song of dates and duels of those who were dead; the trials, triumphs, and failures of generals past. And then she had looked through the window as the world was fading to monochromatic black and white and saw him standing in the sun, a hand outstretched, waiting for her.

Without hesitation, without a care for anything else, she flew from her seat and left, running and running and running.

His dark midnight hair ruffled in a breeze, and Rosaline's blue gaze traveled from his familiar handsome face, to his alluring jaw, to broad shoulders, his slim hips, his feet, then back up again. He stared at her in recognition, his full lips slightly open. Then all at once, he walked forward and took her wrist. He gazed at her for a moment, a secret message conveyed.

Together at last, night and day

"Where are we going?" she asked, breathless.

He took three seconds to answer, saying in the gruff, deep voice she knew well, "Away."

Sanguine sweet, together we'll stray