Requiem

“Do you remember how we used to play in your father’s orchard?” She started. “We used to look at the flowers all day, and you would always try to climb the juniper tree and pick the berries because you liked the smell. Then you would climb down with the berries and pick flowers from the bushes. You loved the flowers, especially the irises, and I remember that you especially loved arranging them in a beautiful posy just for me.

“How about the times where we would sneak into your father’s study and take a few bites from the many damson fruit he would take home from his travels? They tasted horrible, and yet we kept eating them. You said it was for the thrill, and how you were so right. No other damson tasted the same.

“Apparently, your father found out of our little escapades when he noticed that his damsons were steadily being reduced in small numbers. Remember how he got back at us by telling us of this gypsy man and his treasure? He even handed us an old map with a giant x scrawled in one area. It was a very big and complicated map, as far as I can recall, you said that it was authentic because it was written with a quill pen. How can I argue with one who claims that he has wit as sharp as the talon of a kestrel?” She laughed. “You did lead us straight to that mark,” she said with a smile, “although, it wasn’t much of a treasure. It was just an acorn and a rotten walnut, but maybe you just read the map wrong.

“Your father was later so sorry for conning us, wasn’t he? He gave you a locket, adorned with your favorite flowers like the iris and the hyacinth.” She grew silent as she dug her hands into the soft earth, trying to hold back the tears that welled up inside of her. “It was the most beautiful thing…” she said in a whisper as she let her fingers touch the cold silver locket that hung around her neck. “And you knew it. Oh, how quick you were to give it to me.”

“There was this time…a day after that, I think…” she continued, her eyes now glassy with tears, “We played in the woods. We ran around, leaping over the stream and ignoring the bridge to cross it. You bragged so much that we never needed the bridge, until you lost your footing and scraped your knee while landing from a jump. We stopped playing that game after that, didn’t we? You cried so much after they treated your wound that you never went near the bridge ever again.”

She looked at the cairn beside her; it was now old, weathered and covered with drying moss. She ran her fingers across his name engraved on the rock. It was fading, slowly washed away by time. She turned her glance to the woods down the hill where the church once stood. All that was left from its once great zenith was the steeple- now lying on the ground covered with moss and swallowed by vines. “Remember the yew trees beyond that church?” she said and pointed with a forced laugh. “Didn’t we carve our initials on almost each and every tree?”

“Yes,” a soft voice replied. She wasn’t surprised when she turned to find him standing above his own cairn, “I remember that.” He said. She looked at him as the tears ran down her eyes; he looked so handsome now. He wasn’t the little boy that she used to play with anymore although; his eyes remained youthful to her... child-like and innocent.

“But it was such a long time ago.” he added. His voice reminded her of a feather that still had his youthful nature, but now it had lost its once strong and proud tone.

“Yes…” She listened to her voice, trying to catch the fading echo of her own childhood. “I have waited for you for so long.”

“I know.” He said, turning his eyes away from her. “But, I’m back now, am I not?”

She sat there, looking at him, and said something that wasn’t more than an utter. She tried to wipe the tears from her eyes, but they would not stop flowing like a rivulet down her cheeks.

He knelt down next to her and brushed away the tears with the tips of his fingers. “Come with me.” He said in a whisper as he took her hand. She stood up and followed him as he led her through the fields where they once chased one another. Her vermillion dress billowed in the wind as she followed him past the myriad of flowers. But every step she took forward, she noticed that her dress started to lose its color. “Just follow me.” He said to her soothingly.

She walked with him, and looked back. She noticed how everything was losing its beauty and vibrance.

“Will anybody remember us?” she asked him.

He looked at her face so full of worry, her eyes a confused reflection of her thoughts. “We will be remembered.” He said, pointing to the two cairns at the top of the hill. “Even if they crumble because of time, we will be remembered. The wind will carry our laughter, and the earth, our memories.” He looked ahead and held her hand, “We must go.” He said and led her away from where they stood.

She looked back for one last time and they were gone…