Eerie Silence

Damian stood up, pulling her with him. Weaving his elegant hand through her dark hair, he spread lilies of the valley. They pulled back her hair to show her pale face and round blue eyes. He then took her arms and pulled them over his shoulders before placing his hands on her waist and helping her to stand and keep perfect balance.

They danced through the cemetery, passing headstones left and right. Every now and then one of them looked down to make sure they did not dance over a grave, but their feet glided gracefully over the dying grass as Damian led. It was flawless and so natural; at no other time could Amy be so graceful.

Winding their way down the little man made path, Damian picked up the tempo, and soon their shoes were hardly touching the ground as they moved back and forth and spun in quick sharp circles. At one point, Damian lifted Amy up, swirling her as she grasped his shoulders. Large blue eyes blinked at him, and then he broke out into a smile and her placed her on her feet, never losing the beat of their song.

Coming by a little bridge, Damian stopped, still holding her close to his chest. She broke out into another smile, lighting up her crystal blue eyes. Under the bridge, a little stream ran over pebbles, creating a calming background noise that mingled with their rapid, heavy, breaths. No animals scattered by them or swooped over head; they were alone besides the dead, but Amy felt as if the were giving her and her beloved space to be truly alone.

“I feel bad,” she whispered, “that I didn’t know what to get you. It seems so silly.” A lose strand of her cherry wood hair spilled into her face, a dark patch against the creamy moon light skin.

Damian cupped her face in his calloused hands and kissed her forehead softly. “Don’t worry. All I need is you.”

Smiling, she took his hand and pulled him all the way back to their little spot underneath the tree beside the statue and gravestone. Her feet came to a soft thudded stop before she sat down on the smooth blanket, once again surrounded by the glow of the candles. Amy sat, her legs crossed under each other as she looked up at Damian’s pallor.

“You know,” she said looking up past long strands of hair and into Damian’s dark eyes, “he kind of reminds me of you.” Amy pointed a small finger to the statue, her eyes gliding over his scythe and hooded face.

“Well you’ve never seen me in work clothes before,” he snickered. “Close you’re eyes.” Blinking, he met her blue eyes with a steady gaze.

Amy raised a fine auburn eyebrow. “What, you carry your uniform around in your pocket?”

“Magic, remember? It’s all about magic,” Damian said and placed his hands over her eyes, closing her world in darkness.

There was a small rush of wind around their picnic area, and when Amy could once again see in the pale yellow candle light, Damian was shrouded in waves of darkness; a blade not unlike the statues in his pale hand. A black cloak hung past his feet and covered his face more effectively then his raven hair; she could only just make out his eyes, a shade lighter then the shadows. With his free hand, Damian took her hand in his, caressing her knuckles with his thumb in a gentle manner as if to assure her it was still him and not some creature of the night come to take her to the other side.

“I’m scared,” Amy said jokingly.

He moved like a blur, dropping her hand and appearing behind her on one knee, black folds of his cloak swaying from the sudden movement. “You should be,” he said in a deep husky voice once she spun around, her hair whipping into her face, shadowing her large clear eyes.

She moved her frail hands from where she had them clasped on her thighs feeling her way to the side of his hawk like face, finding his high cheek bones, and then she ran her fingers up over his forehead and through his thick hair, slowly pushing back the black hood to reveal the sharp features of his ghostly face. His steady black eyes met hers as he waited for the next move. Running her fingers down his cheeks, she traced his distinct features, stopping over his chapped lips.

He grasped her wrists suddenly, but not roughly, and kissed her fingertips like a butterfly hovering over a sweet flower. Each finger received a fluttering wisp from his lips: the pinky, pointer, middle, index, and even the thumb. When he moved her hands between then, she crashed her lips into his.

They pulled apart, both blushing and smiling. What an odd couple they were, so madly in love yet so shy about their emotions. Amy was open with all her thoughts, and Damian shared everything he felt. Everyone saw that they cared only with their whole hearts, but the two of them still blushed when the other pecked their cheek. No matter how often they cuddled close, they acted as if the other may get up and walk away. It was a complicated relationship, with him being an Angel of Death and she being a mere pathetic mortal.

“Will you marry me?” he asked, still holding her small hands in his.

For a moment she hesitated nibbling her lower lip, and then a brilliant smile burst onto her face, creating an artificial glow to her ghostly pallor. Amy tackled him, connecting her lips with his in the process. Their hands were crushed together as she lay on top of his toned body. Somehow their fingers intertwined, their lips never parting. The kiss was long and passionate, filled with month’s worth of love and every word they had spoken.

“Yes,” she whispered, allowing him to peck her lips roughly, quickly.

Rolling off of him, Amy made sure to avoid the little sparkling candles that were slowly burning around the blanket’s surface. Pulling her hair around her shoulder and softly running her fingers over the lilies of the valley still clasped in her hair, she fidgeted to get comfortable and to regain her normal composure. Chocolate strands of hair dangled before her face as she sat up, folding her hands together in her lap.

Glowing with happiness, she watched his cloak shimmer away, so he was back in his normal jeans and black t-shirt, and then he sat beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist and with his other hand pulling out a smooth ring from his pocket.

It had no stone; it was a simple loop with nothing flashy or bold about it, a perfect ring for Amy. The ring was a clear band made of what appeared to be glass. Most of the band was clear and perfect, with out a scratch on it, but one side held his name. It was his belonging, part of him with his name etched in it. Damian was spelled out in fluent cursive, the Large D looping to underline the rest of his name. At first she didn’t think it would fit her, but as he slid it onto her finger, the smooth substance resized itself.

“How does this work?” she asked, looking into the flame of a near by candle, her smile replaced by a solemn and quizzical look.

“What do you mean?” he asked, confusion flooding his voice as he squeezed her hand.
Sighing, Amy turned her face to his and looked up into his eyes, trying to shield her emotions from playing on her face. “Can you get married?”

“Probably not,” Damian admitted. “It’s the thought that counts, right?”

She nodded and snuggled into him, her wild hair falling into her face as she closed her eyes and inhaled his scent. Even though she loved Damian with all her heart and truly wanted to marry him, Amy didn’t want to be the cause of trouble.

“All I know is that I want to spend forever with you,” he mumbled.

Amy sighed, twisting the ring around her finger. “But how long is forever? I’m going to die some day, and in the mean time you’re still a perfect figure of an eighteen year old”

“I can change my appearance, Amy.” Damian said in a soft, tense, voice.

“What about the part where I die?”

In a swift movement they were both standing. Damian’s strong arms were curled around her waist, holding her tightly to his formed body. Amy’s cheek rested on his shoulder; her eyes scanned the scene displayed behind him. The graveyard held a new white glow, and fog rolled in misting the edges of tomb stones. Figures seemed to dance together as Damian and she had only moments before. Together, white blurs of elegant figures paraded over the broken ground.

Shocked, Amy jerked her head back, trying to look up at Damian. About to ask him what she was seeing, the girl gazed back out at the scene. It seemed small, more blurred. It was almost as if little people were dancing under the two of them.

Gasping, her entire frame went rigid, and Amy pressed her fingers in to his forearms. Her brilliant eyes darted between her handsome one’s distressing face and the smoke like figures still turning beneath them. Finally, when she thought she had lost all her mind, Amy understood.

They were floating, almost matching the old tree in height. Damian had lifted her off of the cemetery floor and into the night sky. Why he did such things she never understood, and he always gave such vague answers.

“A little warning would be nice next time,” Amy spoke, looking up into his eyes. He looked down at her, smirking a little. “And answer my question!” she demanded.

“I don’t know how to answer you Amy, but I am never letting go of you.”

At any other time she might have found what he said romantic or cheese, but now her thoughts were reeling and picking apart her happy little image of the two of them living happily together. She frowned, loosening her grip on his arms. Death had always seemed so far, but Damian had lived centuries and would live for many more. She had but this one life, this one chance to be with him. Maybe she would come back as a ghost, but from what Amy understood, that would be nothing like how things where now. As a ghost she probably wouldn’t even be able to hold his hand; she would go right through him! Amy was quickly going numb and her grip with reality was slackened. When she died what would happen to her? Was there a place where people went if they didn’t have some reason to hang around earth, or did you only have two options: be a phantom or disappear? If there was some place else to go, was it like heaven and hell like her parents always said?
Amy had asked questions before, but she found that it upset Damian and she couldn’t do that to him. Now though, she needed to know.

“AMY!” She spun her head to the side, whacking her forehead on Damian’s chin. “Are you okay?” he asked, completely unfazed by getting hit.

“Yes…No. No Damian I’m not.”

Cupping her chin, Damian tilted her pale face up so that he could look into her eyes. “What’s wrong babe?”

“When I…When I’m gone, what will happen?” He dropped her face and looked off into the distance, his entire demeanor changing.

“Amy…Amore… I don’t know…” he admitted, as they touched back down on the soft blanket his arms still tightly wrapped around her.

Amy let herself fall into the curve of his frame, resting her head on his chest and turning her eyes to the stars. Nothing in this world had ever made her want to upset her beloved Damian, but there was so much on her mind that Amy couldn’t stop words from coming. It was as if she didn’t let the thoughts out her emotions would continue to ping pong back and forth until she either went batty or exploded.

“I don’t think I’ll mind dying-” Damian jerked, his entire body frozen, “No. No that’s not what I meant!” Amy turned in his firm arms so that her face was even with his, “Damian, I…it’s just…well… it’s natural. Even you died technically; I just meant that so long as I can be with you I don’t think I will mind leaving everything else. I just don’t know what comes after that, and that’s what scares me so much.” Slowly, tenderly, Amy lifted her hand, stroking his cheek with her cold fingers.

“Let’s not talk about this, not now” Damian said, lose strands of his raven hair tipping over his even darker eyes.

With a huff Amy agreed to drop the subject, “But only for tonight.”

Turning back around, she curled up in his arms. The scent of lilies filled the night air and soon her ears were filled with soft humming. Although it was off key and held no real tune, it brought a slight smile to Amy’s rosy lips.

Cool fingers ran through her hair, swishing around the flowers woven through her locks. Happily, she sighed. This was her version of heaven, and Amy was content on staying there forever with out questions so long as Damian would keep his arms around her and never let go; unfortunately, her mother and father had other plans for her. Her phone beeped three times at a high pitch, signaling her need to leave, and it was only ten.

“Sorry, but some of us have to sleep in order to make it through school, and parental complaints,” she mumbled. Opening her eyes, she tilted her head up for one more swift but sweet kiss.

“They don’t like me much do they?” Damian asked with a chuckle.

Amy giggled. “They don’t know you, not really.”

Both of them got to their feet and with a wave of his hand, the scene before then vanished. All that was left was a single burning candle, and a small velvet box that held her gift to him, yet to be opened. He snatched them both up, and took her hand in his, blowing out the candle so that their path was lit only by faint moon glow.

“I love you, Damian Blackmoth,” she said as they reached the old iron gate that marked to entrance to the cemetery. Wind rushed around them in a whirlwind, raising dust and weeds that had been pulled from the ground and mingling strands of their dark hair together. His full black eyes, hidden behind only a few inky strands of hairs, looked down at her with love and tenderness, but silence fallowed her words. They’d been telling each other that since the beginning, and they always meant it. In her mind, Amy had no doubt that he loved her; after all, he had just proposed; some things didn’t need to be said everyday or every moment they were together.

Then the corner of his lips turned up in a cute half smile, “I love you too.” With those words she let go of his hand and turned to walk down the street, a smile on her lips and a ring on her finger.

Twirling her new ring around her finger, Amy was thinking about what she would tell her parents. In a few months she would graduate and then it would be her freedom to marry the man she loved, but she wanted her mother and father to understand what it meant to her even though they would never be able to know the whole truth about Damian. They would say it was too soon and that they were too young, but she would make them see. How would she make them see? She couldn’t tell them that Damian actually more then twice her age, and she definitely could not tell them or anyone else that he was an angel of death with mystical powers. With a sigh, Amy realized all she had to offer to them was the truth about how she felt and how she knew with all her heart Damian felt the same way. They were in love, undeniable, hopelessly romantic love, and that was all the young girl could tell them.

A smile slipped over her lips with out her noticing. She was oblivious to all as her mind swished and swirled, dancing around topics and already planning things to come once her parents fell into acceptance. Amy wasn’t the girl who already had her perfect wedding planed, but now she could easily picture it. They would have a small gathering in a forest. Damian would be dashing in his simple tuxedo, his long hair lose around his shoulders. Amy saw in her minds eye how the wind would stir the leaves around their ankles in mini whirlwinds, creating a display of majestic beauty. Her own hair would stick to her pale cheeks and sway over her shoulders as she made the short walk to her beloved’s side. Cool night air would cocoon around her, sweeping over her skin. A classic white dress would be drawn corset like around her bust before leading down into a flowing skirt with lilies stitched in baby blue.

Lost in thought, her head jerked up at the last second, just in time for her cobalt eyes to see glowing white-yellow light and to catch the drift of burning rubber as she heard an awful high pitched shriek. Dark strands of her hair that caught in the golden light whipped into her face, flickering past her wide blue eyes. Like back in the graveyard, she lost herself in lifting off the earth, but this feeling was less surreal and there were not a strong pair of arms holding her up. As Amy flew, her body stiffened; her arms locked straight, her head knocked back, and her legs clicked together, the heels of her converses connecting. The little hairs on her arms and neck tickled as they lifted from her skin, seconds to late in warning.

The next thing she knew, there was a weight pressing down on her chest, and her head was thrown backwards, pain rattling through out her entire body and hair flying over her face. Her breaths came in rapid, short bursts, and down the side of her cold face she felt a warm trickle. All of her body shook as small breaths rattled around her lungs. The rise and fall of her chest sent shards of molten pain all through out her; most likely her ribs were broken. Over her icy, sweat covered skin, there were little trickles of warm liquid, and the scratchy jean material stuck to her legs.

Someone screamed, but it wasn’t her; her throat was dry and scratchy, and her lips were glued together. After a moment she realized it must be the car’s driver. It was a high pitched ringing in her ears, and it was getting quiet annoying. Amy just wanted serenity and silence. Numbness sunk into her bones, and she felt her self drifting as the pitchy scream got quieter, becoming a soft hum in the distance.

“I’m so sorry Amy. I love you. I really, truly, love you,” she heard Damian’s voice floating in her thoughts as the out side noise dimed. There was no doubting that she knew what was coming for her. She had so many questions to ask him, but her voice was lost.