Midnight Storms

“Goodnight, dear,” she called out into the dusk as she waved goodbye to him. She stood in the doorway watching him leave, still glowing from their final kiss.

When he had disappeared out of sight she closed the door, sighing. She paused for a moment, leaning against the door with her mouth upturned in a slight smile and a look in her eyes as if her mind was far away. A look that conveyed for that instant she was not standing against the door, but instead lying in a green meadow, listening to the wind saunter through trees and the trickling tickling of a nearby creek while she watched the black silhouette of a soaring bird cut through the sparsely clouded blue sky.

The wind howled through an open window, bringing the crimson curtains to life. She regained her physical body as the cardinal wings toppled the vase on the windowsill. The single flower he had brought earlier that evening fell to the floor, water glug glug glugging into a puddle. She moved to the window with feline grace and shut it quickly. Outside the bony hands of the tree beckoned and the wind stumbled past the newly formed leaves as inside she sopped up the mess with an old towel.

As she prepared herself for bed, the rain began to fall. The pitter-pattering on the windowpane smeared the light of the moon as it peered through the gray clouds. She sat in front of the mirror, brushing her silky golden brown hair by the flickering light of a single candle and listening to the rain roll down the roof. She gracefully got up and cleared the several glasses and mugs from her bedside stand. Returning from the kitchen, she climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to her shoulders. She blew out the candle and watched the swaying tree shadows cast on the wall by the moonlight before drifting off to sleep.

She dreamt that night. Dreamt for the first time in several weeks. He had died on his way home, held at knifepoint for money and killed when he refused. She saw his lifeless body in a casket, surrounded with white lilies. She leaned over the chest, weeping uncontrollably, crushing the flowers underneath her. The limb of a shadow closed the lid on his casket and placed a hand on her shoulder in comfort. The touch was cold. She raised her head from her damp teary pillow to see the shadow bringing her tea in bed.

The crack of a thunderclap jolted her awake. The storm had not subsided but rather had intensified. Rain was beating against the windowpane. The skritch-scratching of the trees was silenced only by the explosion accompanying the searing flash of light that would momentarily light up the room.

She sat up in her bed, trying to escape from her disturbing vision. She brushed the hair from her forehead and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She went to the window and stood for a few minutes, just looking out at the storm.

Returning to the covers she reached for the cup of tea on her nightstand and sipped the warm liquid, letting the taste linger and savoring the tingling feeling it gave. Before dropping off she thought of his promise of a picnic in the late afternoon and hoped the rain would stop soon so as not to ruin their date.
The next morning the sun shown through her window, creating golden rectangles of light on the wall. Birds sang outside, chipmunks scampered to and fro across the moist green lawn. She lay on the bed, her golden hair flowing across the pillow and sheets.

There was a knock at the front door. Three sharp reports of flesh and bone against wood. The clock in the hallway ticked to break the first moment of silence and tocked to break the second. Tick… tock… tick… tock… tick… tock… Three more knocks at the door, answered only by the steadily swinging beats of the pendulum. The visitor tried the knob, just in case. It turned and the door slowly swung open. He paused, then walked through the doorway. His footsteps echoed slightly in the hallway, not yet accustomed to footfalls as heavy as his.

“Hello?” he called out to the emptiness. When no reply came he continued into the hallway, closing the door behind him. After moving through the kitchen, dining room, and sitting room, he came to her bedroom door. Gently swinging the door open, he saw her lying on the bed, cradled by the white sheets, her eyelids down.

He softly walked across the room to her bed, lovingly gazing at her form, not quite wanting to disturb her respite. Standing over her bed with a smile on his face, he reached for her hand to awaken her. The smile in his eyes faded to concern as his fingers touched her limp, chill hand. The concern spread to the rest of his face as he searched her wrist for signs of a beating heart. With panic coursing through his veins he shook her by the shoulders. Her limp head rolled from side to side at the end of her neck. He let go her body and stepped back from the bed, his hands cradling his face, the sound of sobs escaping through his fingers. He shook his head slightly, taking his hands down, and whispered softly.

“No…no… you just need to sleep a little longer…” he sniffed and wiped his eyes. “I’ll just be in the next room…” As he leaned down to kiss her ruby lips, a tear fell from his eye and rolled down her ashen cheek.

He closed the door to her room and dropped to the floor, his head between his knees, sobbing.