A Broken Beauty

This was my final piece of fiction written for my very first MES (Mind’s Eye Society) character before her retirement. She is still near and dear to my heart, a prettily manic, doll-obsessed Mekhet by the name of Dovasary Meredith Windemere.

= = = =

She felt a profound emptiness consume her as she gazed around their home. Leaving. After 107 years. Leaving. After she had sworn never to do so.

“It is the only way. It is better if they think us dead and gone. It is the only way to have peace.” Sebastian had spoken with a touch of sadness and resigned fervor.

The only way. They had tried so very hard to build this city, to do right by her. Yet they were threatened constantly for doing what was best for Muncie, for their home. Perhaps he was right and it was the only way.

But it did not making leaving any less painful.

“My home…my city…I am so sorry,” she whispered brokenly to the silent halls, “Forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” the manse seemed to reply, in an all-too-familiar voice, “My love, my turtle-dove.”

If she wasn’t already dead, the words would have felled her cold. But, all of a sudden, she felt him. In her, around her, cold yet soft at the same time.

“Lucien? Impossible…” Dove’s lips trembled.

“Yes, Liebchen. I am here. I have found you again at last.”

She almost sobbed aloud. “Forgive me, Lucien. Please! We cannot stay; we have to leave.”

“I know, darling. And I shall go with you. I shall not leave you again.”

Then, she could see him before her, beautifully crystalline and translucent. Reaching out, his left hand enveloped her right and she could positively felt the soft lambskin of his grip–-supple and dark.

He smiled then and its beauty broke Dove’s heart.

“Dove,” Vincent’s voice sliced into the moment. He was standing ready with Dolly near him, clutching her Teddy. “It’s time to go.”

She nodded quietly, the barest hint of a smile tugging at her lips at the sight of her son and his likeness to her Lucien. “Yes, dearest ones. I am coming.”

One last look around and then, still holding his hand, she turned away forever. Vincent took hold of her left arm gently, guiding his sire away from the manse. Glancing down, he saw that, in her right hand, was clutched a worn lambskin leather glove; and her eyes shone with a faint glow, not unlike that of one has seen the face of their god and lived.





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