“Yet each man kills the thing he loves,
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
Some kill their love when they are young,
And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.
Some love too little, some too long,
Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.”
― Oscar Wilde
Here they were, holding hands, staring down at the dark, endless abyss. Here they were, standing at the edge of forever.
Time gave the illusion of having stopped.
All they had was now. No future, no past. Just now. A singular moment, an infinite stretch of emotions and words left unsaid.
“I could conquer the world with one hand,” he told her. “If only you’d hold the other.”
She stared back at him and smiled – she wasn’t strong enough for words to leave her pretty mouth.
He pressed his lips against hers, embraced her with trembling arms. Looking over her shoulder, he could see over the edge of the cliff.
From where they were standing, he could barely see the river. He took a few steps towards the edge of the cliff; pebbles rattled and rumbled all the way down. Tears fell down over the edge of the world, never to reach the ground.
A fall was fatal from this height. That much was certain.
She walked over to him…
All they had was now.
But he had this bizarre feeling flooding his veins. It wasn’t death. It didn’t feel like death. He knew death. After all, they called him The Duke of Death.
He could fear gunfire shots in the distance. It was just a matter of time. He knew all hope had been lost. He knew that a man had nothing without hope. The rebel George Washington was dead. Ben Franklin was missing… or dead.
He returned to staring her in the eyes and thinking about what it was that he felt and why it made him feel like he could cry and cry and drown the world with his tears and the feeling wouldn’t go away.
More gunfire. They were closer.
He missed her. He just missed her. That was all.
Oh, god, he already missed her. Her cheeks resting between his palms, he missed her so damn much.
“I love you,” he whispered to her.
“I love you too,” her eyes screamed the words.
“I… I… I didn’t… I had no…”
“I know,” the words trembled on her lips.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, seconds would melt against each other to form the last moments they’d ever spend together.
“You have to hide. They won’t look for you. They don’t know you’re here,” he said.
Her eyes said so much, and yet he couldn’t tell her any words of comfort. He peered down at the river.
It was such a long way down…
“You jump. I jump,” she said.
“I know.” And he gently pressed his lips against hers. It burned. This last kiss; it burned right through his lips, sending a burning shiver down his skin. It was hot and cold and electrifying.
And they jumped. Together.
They jumped over the edge of the world, into the dark and endless abyss of death…
It was such a long way down…
And only he came out of the river that night.
This is just a random scene from a novel I am working on right now. Hope you enjoyed reading it.