Dusty old love

 There is was the dusty old heart-shaped box. Sitting on the similarly dusty shelf in the huge attic at the very top of the ancient manor. A harsh reminder of a time long past. Way back, when she was younger and beautiful. Not the haggard, sagging mess she had become. She had used to be the talk of the town, the jewel in the eyes of most men, waiting to be plucked from the golden crown that was her father's estate.

She sighed.

Long gone was the seemingly endless line of gentlemen. All of them prying for a chance to court her. To win her favour and also her hand in marriage. They had only, in truth wanted her fathers remaining fortune.

She sighed.

Life had become just like this old box. Dusty, ragged and full of an empty bitterness. She had pondered opening it for a moment but chose not to. The pain was still so sharp after all these years. like a knife slowly being dragged across her chest, it pushed tears from her wrinkled eyes that flowed easily down through her drooping skin.

She sighed.

All of those endless promises came to nothing. she had found the one for her but their story had been a short and sweet one, with a tragic ending. They had been the talk of the town. The beauty had chosen her love. Almost everyone in town disagreed and even came knocking on her door to tell her so. She had listened to their pleas with closed ears and a heart already full of the smoothest and finest chocolate. Just as the box had been. Her father had taken a while to come around. After many months of pleading and praying, he had finally sighed and gave his permission for the marriage to go forwards.

“If it pleases my daughter then so be it!” He declared to the town at the monthly town hall meeting. Much to their chagrin.

She sighed.

She had only a few memories left untarnished by the treacherous flow of time. She cherished those just as she had cherished being given this chocolate box. Her long flowing auburn hair, her sparkling blue eyes, her perfect red lips. All lost to tragedy.

She sighed.

She sobbed loudly and for the longest time. Until no tears would come forth until her eyes ached and her nose was sore from wiping. Then once she had swallowed the last of her sadness. She dusted herself off as well as the box and made her way down to the kitchen. The once white tiles were stained and cracked.

The stains covered the walls and the floor. A physical representation of her soul. She didn't get many visitors these days. So any urge to maintain her home had dwindled alongside her beauty. They had stopped coming with their unwelcome regrets and condolences. How could they look her in the eyes? Telling her they were sorry for her loss when they couldn't even congratulate her gain. after so many years of abuse and exclusion from any and all town festivities. She hadn't cared back then, she had her love by her side and chocolates still ripe to eat.

She sighed.

Although she would tell you otherwise, she remembered that tragic night all too well. It greeted her every night when she closed her eyes and welcomed her in the mornings with fresh tears already staining her fluffy cheeks.

That night had been a cold one. Far from cold actually, more like freezing. Her love had wrapped a thick woollen scarf around her as they watched the lanterns float to the sky with whimsical grace. The two of them nestled into each other. Breathing in the safe scent of true love. Nothing could separate them nothing, except death.

She sighed.

That night death had come. He swung his remorseless scythe and struck the love from her heart and the world. The town's residents with their constant side-eyes and whispers couldn't bother her when she was wrapped in the arms of her love. Bring them on. That is what they would say together. Every time a stray comment or snide remark reached their ears they would laugh loud and proud. A beautiful symphony of careless love for all to hear and envy.

She sighed.

The headlights had come bursting through the wall of falling snow, she was knocked back by her love. Their eyes met for the last second. A sacrifice. A knowing look in her eyes told her all she needed to know. Her love was dead and she would never fill the space she had left. Forever cursed to know what true love feels like but unable to really feel it again. To live alone and ostracized by the community. Even after their sorrows they still treated her the same, only now with looks of pity.

She sighed.

That day like today was Valentine's. The anniversary of her wife's death. Her centre is now forever filled with grief and surrounded by a creamy layer of bitterness.

Now she sat there staring at the dusty heart-shaped box and sighed. She reached forward with a tentative hand and lifted the lid gingerly. There, inside the box. Was the thing that had caused her a lifetime of pain. She had got it in the end. She had won, she told herself.

She sighed.

As she sat there staring at the corpse of her fallen enemy, once friend. She felt a rage build. Why!? Why?! Why didn't you take me instead?! She shouted aloud to the cold empty kitchen.

She could feel him here again. Her old nemesis, death. The Grim Reaper. He was raising his scythe slowly to the ceiling. Preparing to strike her from this world and into the arms of her lost love.

Her life slowly slipped by her eyes in a miserable flash.

She sighed a final time.

There in the heart-shaped box, laid out in a careful pose. A tiny pile of bones, and a cupid's bow.