Life is no fairytale, we can't always find our prince. Sometimes we don't take the hands of those who reach out for us and one chance can be our last.
The moon gazed softly upon the row of stones below the markers caressing them gently. Most were faded and weathered with age; the names upon them lost along with the lives of those who rested beneath, forgotten completely as all those whom would remember them were buried one after another.
The velvet blanket of night covered the ground, but deep inside the graveyard a tiny splash of colour and light could be seen amongst the smothering shadows. Just that day a new addition had been made to the hallowed grounds, the polished rock took the form of an angel with her face raised to the sky. This angel was different to the others that littered the graveyard; stone tears ran down her face.
A woman stood at the foot of the grave, holding out her hands she muttered something and light began to collect in her palms. Suddenly, she collapsed.
The park was bathed in the late day sunlight; the dust in the air was clearly visible dancing intricately in the crisp autumn breeze. The park was nearly empty now, it being near 6pm and people wanted to be with their loved ones at home where the darkness of the light could not reach them.
She sat on the last remaining bench which was mercifully not vandalized trying to muster the courage to step back into her home. She clutched her coat tighter around her as the wind whistled through the trees. For her there was no safety to be had at home, if one could call it that nowadays, just more darkness coming from within seeping into the light of her soul.
Looking at the ring on her finger she had to choke back a sob of hopelessness. Her fiancé Terry had seemed so nice at first; they were introduced by a mutual friend of theirs and they had quickly hit it off. He was kind and gentle (at least in her eyes anyway) though there had been moments when she had felt a whisper of doubt she overlooked them for the sake of love; it had been so easy. A mistake she soon came to regret.
The more rational side of her had known all along that someone so perfect was impossible that her life was not a fairytale and he was certainly no prince. Her cheek wasn’t the only thing that had broken when he punched her. He had been so apologetic blaming the alcohol he had consumed during a party at his friends hours before. Promises were made and broken with quick succession along with her heart.
Idly she wondered how many times a heart could break before it ceased to beat. A broken laugh escaped her, as the tears began to flow and for a while it was the only sound in the park.
“Are you alright?” the voice came from behind her making her jump; hurriedly she wiped away the tears that had been racing down her cheeks.
“Yeah I’m alright, perfectly fine!” she answered her voice high and false. The man’s silver eyes tightened unnoticeably at the lie. She grimaced
“Your face tells me otherwise” he retorted, concern evident. She raised her hand to cover the bruise that marked the skin there trying in vain to hide it.
“What this? It’s nothing” she made to walk away, grabbing her bag as the stranger sat down.
“I don’t see how that is any of your business!” she snapped, immediately on the defensive. He gave her a disappointed look.
“Maybe it isn’t, but if I may offer advice, this is a moment where the heart must listen to the head”
She paused and with sudden clarity, she understood. The life she could have would be perfect, full of hope and light and laughter but, this was no fairytale, if she ran he would find her. One more chance, just one.
She made to move away, before turning to thank the stranger only to find him gone. Above her head a silver feather floated in the wind.
The woman winced, the final memories of this soul were hazy but she could see brief snippets, a cry of anger followed by one of pain, bruises marring pale skin soon covered by blood, so much blood.
She sighed and stood turning to the man with silver eyes beside her. She spoke quietly as if she was afraid of waking the slumbering spirits. His only response was to take an hourglass out of his jacket and smash it on the ground.