In the Shade of a Shadow of Reason

Lucy watched from the front window as the deputy drove off, and then she turned and hurried into the kitchen. She had a sick feeling growing inside her. She opened the back door and peered into the garden. Her eyes confirmed what her heart most feared: Lance wasn’t there. She stepped out into the chill of the night. Though her robe was warm and thick, her hair was still damp from her shower, and she shivered as the breeze danced around her. She took a long, deep breath. But when she exhaled, it left her body in short, broken spurts of silent sobs. The river that flowed just beyond the garden was a wide, black ribbon dotted with small orbs of light that traveled billions of miles to dance on its surface. She walked slowly toward the bank. She heard the rush of the water as it hurried past the rocks that hadn’t been totally swallowed up by the river’s rise after the winter snowmelt. They jutted up here and there along the bank, giving a voice to the waters that would have otherwise moved along in silence. Tonight the river’s words taunted her. Her mind was tired and her heart felt so heavy that she fell to her knees in the thick, damp grass that carpeted the flat land before it yielded to the power of the watercourse. As the wind ushered in heavy clouds to veil the stars, the dancing orbs blinked out one by one until only one or two survived faintly on the surface of the river. Across the river now Lucy saw black figures. They were darker than the night itself, and they were beckoning to her. She had seen them before. They were the captains of despair, and her heart had been shredded many times by their daggers. She knew what they wanted; they wanted her. The voice she hated disguised its vileness by offering her comfort: “There is rest in the black water. It will carry you to a place beyond all pain.” She rose to her feet and inched forward, stopping for one last breath before giving herself to the promise of the bourn. The wind blew against her, and the cloud that had been hiding the moonlight gave way to the crescent she had given to Lance just one evening before. It shined on the surface from directly over her head, dispersing the utter blackness. Its reflection penetrated her eyes and carried an elixir to her troubled mind. She raised her head to behold it. The wraiths left the far bank as if threatened by an approaching danger. Lucy turned away from the bank to make her way back to the garden. As she did, Lance stood before her. The moon was back in his eyes, and she rushed into his arms. The kiss they made was one of fairytales. It was a kiss that could have awakened a princess who had slept for a hundred years. It was a kiss that could have turned a cursed frog into a prince. It was a kiss that would seal their fate one to another until the end of all time.