There was a new sun on the horizon but she could not see it through her cold blank eyes. Her stiff white fingers clutched a bouquet of roses but their stench could not reach her nose. There she stood on the bridge deck neither dead nor alive searching for
something she could not find. A single tear rolled lazily down her colour deprived cheeks and landed without a sound on the billowing skirts of her new black dress. Forever she is stuck in this state, breathing but not truly living.
She sat laughing in field floating with butterflies and the scent of her perfume. He gazed down at her, as she had been staring at his face for quite sometime, and asked what was on her mind in a moment like this. The young beaming girl proceeded to laugh
as she shook her head and said it was nothing but the simple pleasure she found in his bright blue eyes that were the very colour of the morning sky. He sat beside her and drew his pink lips into a small smirk, the one that made her cheeks glow. She was his
first true love, although she was completely unaware of the way he looked at her and the way she could capture his attention with one glance. In her heart she knew that it was her that occupied his thoughts but she could not say the same of her own thoughts.
She fuelled his fire but never gave him a spark. He was her best friend and nothing more. It was her fear of getting hurt or becoming disappointed that made her shy away from getting to close. being here with him now was pushing her to her mind’s edge.
She then heard a voice above the tall stalks of the flowers and recognized it to be her sister’s. One more smile was all he got and she was gone through the green sea, fists full of fabric and confusion in her heart. Was it truly him she was meant to be
with, oh but it couldn’t be because it won’t last long, it never does. She was the girl whose heart had never been reached. “Love is blind” and she is not used to walking in the dark. So close she had come many a time but her feelings always came to the surface
a little late.
Her family’s large estate was located in the rolling hills, down a long lane, lined with trees. Most of her time was devoted to the ivories worn with oils from her fingers. Her emotions flowed from her fingers like a cascade of water hidden deep in the
carpeted mounts. The richly curtained widows in the piano room were never opened, she liked working in the dark. The black of the room allowed her mind to fill the space as if she were the particles in the air. Her friends were few but most shared her love
of music until he came along.
He moved into the manor over the hill to the right of her family’s gardens just as the new year came around the corner. They became instant friends meeting daily in the large field connecting their properties. They could talk and laugh for hours, never
running out of things to say or more accurately not letting the words between them disappear. She liked having him to herself but didn’t give much thought to what he may be feeling. His company was what she looked forward to each day but the reason to her
was known. He struggled to look passed her stormy pigmented eyes in search of the love she might have for him.
One day at the dawn of spring she received a note from him informing her that there was an important question he would like to ask her the next day and she must not be late. She panicked running through excuses in her head. She was not ready for what was
coming, or so she thought. The next day she spent extra hours moulding notes into a melody that spoke to her confusion in life. The page in front of her was black with notes and the floor around her was covered in mistakes. She missed their meeting, whether
on purpose or by accident, it is not known, perhaps it was both.
They did not see each other for weeks after that as he left for London with his family the day after and when he got back she was already on her way to Scotland for two weeks. They wrote to each other but the letters were kept short and trivial. It gave
her an extended time to think truly about their relationship or if she even wanted to call it that. Scotland seemed to spark a change in her, whether it was the distance or the tranquility of the country it worked in her heart. It became hard for her to be
away from him and the end of her trip could not come soon enough.
The train was filled to the brim with her happiness on the way back to the English countryside. She wore her new dress that resembled the night sky with all the shimmering stars as if it was taken from its above and sewed into careful bunches and seams.
Upon arrival back home she walked straight passed her favourite seat on the wooden piano bench and into the field now blooming with all the wild flowers in the world. She waited longer than normal for the man who found a place in her heart but as she saw his
head push up passed the peak of the hill the butterflies could now be found in her stomach. She couldn’t help but smile at the beauty surrounding her.
There was no smile on his face as he came into view and the butterflies in her stomach felt as if they were made of lead. She couldn’t do it; she couldn’t tell him of her love. He talked as if nothing had changed but she could see it in his eyes. His gaze
was heavy as he told her of the sweet young thing he had met in London. This new girl brought a smile to his face and a giggle to his lips but it crushed her to see him like this. All they had was erased by a couple of weeks and one new person.
That night she sat down ink and quill in her shaking hand and began to write of all she has ever felt. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to convince the reader that there was still a chance that she is the one he truly loves. The warm salty water
that fell from her eyes stained the paper and she screamed out releasing the emotions built up in her body. She signed it carefully in her beautiful handwriting and sealed it with her father’s seal. She had no intention of having her beloved read the letter
but she asked one of the chamber maids to deliver it anyway.
As she lay in bed that night, visions of their encounters floated through her head and kept her sleepless. Oh how naive she thought she was, watching all the opportunities she had float by in her mind never grasping one of them. Quietly she crept passed
the bedrooms and down the staircase staircase placing her hand daintily on the railing chiseled from a carpenters love. The carpet masked the noise of her feet as she clutched the edge of her night gown and ran towards the large double doors at the end of
the hallway. Her long brown braid tied neatly with a blue bow before bed was now dishevelled and she pulled it out in frustration. Hair draped across her shoulders, she sat down at the piano staring blankly at the keys in front of her. The music flowing through
her veins was gone taken from her like a voice from an ailing man. Her fingers collapsed on the keys under the weight of her arms and her head followed, shoulders shaking. She can not remember when she fell asleep or even if she slept at all, but she gained
awareness the next morning with the sun trying to make an appearance around the edges of the curtains.
Her room was her sanctuary for the next day or two, waiting in anticipation for the response to her tear stained letter. She sat staring down the gravel lane leading to their front steps, waiting. A single tear occasionally rolled down her cheek and she
didn’t bother to brush it away because not much seemed to matter.
She emerge from her daze, hair in knots and smile gone, when a young maid knocked politely on her door. She pushed passed the maid knowing he was there, that he was waiting for her in the study. She pushed through the doors nearly tripping on the hem of
her dress; the sun could barely be seen on the horizon. He sat with his back to the door and she quickly composed herself as she came into his line of sight. A small upturn of the corners of his mouth suggested an attempted smile but it quickly faded. He motioned
for her to sit but all she could do was shake her head and stare at her slippered feet for fear of the tears returning. He began to speak his voice trembling as he carefully plucked the words from deep inside. The new blue-eyed girl from London was to become
his wife. He told her the date of the wedding with no compassion showing on his face. The only thing that escaped her broken lips were words of regret, regret that she did not tell him of her love sooner, but he did not hear. He handed her a letter and slipped
out of the room leaving without anymore words that may puncture her heart. She sunk to her knees but the tears would not come; broken and confused she stayed there reading the name printed on the envelope over and over until her eyes could not see anymore.
In her wardrobe she dug through her closet until she found a midnight black ball gown with sleeves that hung from her shoulders like drapes in an abandoned home. She slipped it on and didn't let go of the letter as she struggled to tighten the back. She
combed her hair and washed her face but it did not make a difference. Out she went through the windowed door to the garden not paying any mind to birds singing the new day to life. She wandered through the garden picking all the roses that had not quite bloomed.
They were clutched in her left hand, the thorns leaving trails of red on her palm. When the sun’s face could finally be seen peeking above the trees, straight to the dried creek bed she ran, tripping over her feet with fatigue. Gazing from the bridge into
the ground below she tore open the worn stationary and threw the envelope into the wind. Gripping the roses with force, she read:
I write to you in response to your letter of such thought. I can not dare to compete
with the heart that you pour into your every action but I shall try. You are beautiful as the flowers in the meadow that we share but I do not care for the flowers as I care for you. Your smile brings light to my eyes and oh, the joy in your laugh. I find these
things gripping at my mind begging not to be let out but my heart speaks differently. I lived for many months not knowing whether I was yours the same way that you were mine and it was a difficulty. I tried with all my being to find a way into your life; all
I ever wanted was to be the reason for your joy on all those sunny days and your comfort in the rain. If you are reading this I have just told you of my plans for the future: moving to London and saying “I do” beside one that I love. Believe me when I say
that it was not an easy decision. It tore me apart at night until I could sleep no longer. I love you but I cannot spend the rest of my life with you. It is too late, do not make my decision any harder. I know you’ll come to love her, my soon-to-be wife, and
please do not put the blame on her. I know I have wronged you and I will always feel guilt for it but try to look at it from my eyes. We did not see each other for so long and I was walking blind down the path I thought led to you. I could not tolerate being
in love with someone I thought didn’t love me back. You will find someone better than me and I can only wish for happiness in your future. I will always hold your heart but, you cannot hold mine any longer.
Now I must say goodbye my brightest flower; write to me often.
They found the letter clutched in her cold fingers upon her breast, the words no longer legible. Her body was enveloped in the black skirts of her dress and she disappeared into the black hole gazing at the morning sky one last time with a crown of scarlet
around her head.