This week's challenge comes to us courtesy of a suggestion by Ghost Cat.

Write a short story, poem or scene inspired by a piece of music. There are no other restrictions, just go where the music takes you. Please mention the title of your inspiration and include lyrics if there are any. Any music style, era etc. qualifies.



 


"If I Ever Cried."

I know you never said that you’d be leaving.

But your empty bed says that you’re gone.

I know that darkness doth feed upon the sorrow,

And that the long night has just begun.


 


She stirred restlessly in bed, hovering on the edge of awareness, plagued by unpleasant dreams. Instinctively, her body sought the warmth and comfort of her lover; her eyes snapped open as she found that his side of the bed was empty.

She sat up quickly, now fully awake. The bed was small, and so was the room: a shabby walk-up hotel was the latest of a series of temporary homes. She scanned the room, saw that the set of clothes dropped negligently onto a chair was missing; that wasn’t the only thing that was gone. He always believed in the importance of the truth, and so she knew what he was—an Immortal. He stressed over and over to her that if both he and his sword were missing, she should find a safe place and stay there. She supposed that this place was safe enough for now.

The bed didn’t seem warm anymore without his presence; with a sigh, she slipped on a robe and walked over to the window. "Where are you, my Love?" she whispered into the darkness.
 


I can’t even see through my window

The dark shadowed panes hide my view.

But I can recall there once was a garden

And that one day I walked there with you.


 


She had always had a deep desire to travel, and the man who had swept into her life did his best to fulfil her dream. They roamed the world, stopping wherever the mood took them, but even he didn’t have an infinite amount of money. For every rich manor house or presidential suite, there were a half dozen places like this one. She didn’t mind; as long as they were together. The waiting ate slowly at her nerves; she wished for one tiny spark of that strange talent that allowed Immortals to sense one another. At least then she would know that he was still out there, somewhere.

She sat in silence, staring out the window; the night was black and moonless, her own face confronted her from the glass. Her mind wandered down paths of memory, to the moment when he had shared his deepest secrets with her, as if revealing some bright treasure kept long hidden. It had been a beautiful summer day (how many years ago?), surrounded by the green life of young buds and ancient trees.

She remembered his heartfelt sigh of contentment as they walked arm in arm down perfumed paths. "I wanted you to see this place first; it’s one of my favourites." Even in memory, she loved the sound of his voice. "I don’t know why I don’t come here more often." Their wanderings had taken them to a clearing in the park, dominated by a lone oak that seemed to stand sentinel. He walked right up to the base of the ancestral tree, resting his hand against the trunk as if he could feel the life flowing through it. With an enigmatic smile, he had turned toward her, reaching out his other hand in invitation. "Did you know," he had said, his voice soft and casual, "the last time I was here, this tree was merely a sapling?" That simple admission had lead to a long, strange conversation that would change both their lives forever.
 


I feel a change in the weather,

In the distance, I hear a squall.

I don’t really know if I will stay or I’ll go,

Pretty soon some rain’s going to fall.


 


Life forever and death around every corner; such was the world of the Immortals. She had been dragged into that world not by force, but by love; fully knowing what it might mean. There was a tension in the air, something that she could almost, but not quite identify. Her body trembled with a sudden premonition that somewhere, out there, something terrible was about to happen. She had promised to stay out of danger; their mutual oath to keep their personal relationship a haven from the Gathering. And yet, wasn’t love itself a greater duty than any oath? She was already out in the street, nightgown, robe and coat all flowing in the wind, before she even consciously made the decision.

If I ever cried, I don’t remember.

To my empty heart I must explain

How one moment so sweet,

On a dark city street,

Made the stars fall down like rain.

She ran blindly down the dark streets, following instinct, and a sense of horrible urgency. Ominous clouds hung heavily, cutting off the stars. She wasn’t certain if the moisture that blurred her vision was rain or tears; she wouldn’t let either one stop her in her quest. She wiped them aside without a thought, hardly even slowing down in her mad race against time. In the distance she heard a sound that might be mistaken for a gathering storm. She knew though, from bitter experience, the difference between the crash of thunder and the clash of steel on steel.

I feel a change in the weather,

In the distance, I hear a squall.

I don’t know if I will stay or I’ll go,

Pretty soon some rain’s going to fall.

She turned in the direction of the sounds of battle, putting on a final rush of desperate speed. Suddenly, she burst out of a narrow alley into an open space—and stopped, stunned, by what she saw. The confrontation before her was very different from the practice spars he had allowed her to witness. This was real combat, deadly serious; the spectre of death hung in the air more palpably than the storm clouds overhead.

She froze, not daring to make a sound for fear of distracting her love at a crucial time. It hardly would have mattered at this stage; the duellists fought with utter focus, as if the universe ceased to exist around them. Both men were staggering from exhaustion and the burden of their wounds; surely it couldn’t last much longer. Despite the darkness and the confusion, she knew her beloved by instinct. She watched the action with her heart in her throat, waiting for that one fatal moment when one or the other would make a mistake.

The dark clouds released their burden, and the sheets of heavy rain added to the chaos of battle. Traitorous footing lead to a misstep, an opportunity, a lunge that sent a blade tumbling into the night.

For a moment, she lost track of who was who; fear betrayed her and she shut her eyes tight against what she knew was coming. She heard the sound of a powerful blow, an animalistic roar dredged from the victor’s last reserves of strength. There was a sickening thud; she forced down her panic and opened her eyes. A body lay on the ground, a body that seemed strangely incomplete. Something had rolled toward her, coming to a stop against one of her boots. With dread certainty, she knew what it was; she forced herself not to look down.

Where two men had stood, now there was only one. Her heart clenched as she saw her beloved, drained, pained, barely able to stand. Heedless of the blood and nearby corpse, she ran to his side to comfort him. He saw her coming, a mixture of shock and dismay crossing his tired face. Weakly, he tried to push her aside, but she wouldn’t allow it. He started to collapse with the effort to keep her away; she guided his fall and held him, gently, in her arms. She saw a glow out of the corner of her eye, attracting her gaze. As she watched, fascinated, a mist seemed to lift out of the body on the ground, gathering strength and form. Suddenly the Thing rushed toward her, passed through her, and into him. She gasped as if she had touched an electric current; something powerful tore her beloved from her arms. She watched in awe as he danced in a shower of light and colour and fire; a display that was beautiful, and terrible. She watched him, yet at some level she was within him. There was a connection at that moment, a sensation of standing at the edge of a whirlwind that she would tear her to pieces if it touched her. In her soul she knew that the whirlwind could not harm him, that he lived with that whirlwind inside him every day of his life.

The wild power faded as quickly as it had come, and now he was holding her in those strong, comforting arms. "Hush," he whispered, "It’s over now."

If I ever cried, I don’t remember.

To my empty heart I must explain

How one moment so sweet,

On a dark city street,

Made the stars fall around us like rain.

The stars fell down on us like rain.

The stars are all falling like rain.

The stars fell around us, like the rain.



These images have been haunting me since the first time I heard the song (Byrnes will do that to you), but the details were tantalisingly few. No matter how many times the Muses showed me this scene, they never named names, and I never saw any faces. I can’t tell you who these lovers are, because I don’t know myself. Yet I am glad to have been able to tell their tale, and I wish them well.
 
 
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