A Winter Night's Plea

There was a sort of solidarity on the cold air that night, it whispered thought out the leafless trees and along the deserted country roads. It was almost as if the world felt as utterly alone and lost as the pale skinned girl standing bare foot in the snow. Her hair feel in shimmering onyx ribbons, shuddering in a dance with the winter air. The myriad of glistening snow flakes swirled around her in a well planed motion as a few of the melting diamonds caught to her ebony hair and sparkled in the watery light from the full moon. Her dark, sad eyes portrayed the loneliness of a thousand lives, glistening with the tears she left unspent. And her soft pale lips trembled slightly from the harshness of the cold, and the cold pain in her heart.

A solitary black sheet, Egyptian cotton, hung to her pale, thin frame like it was its only hope. She held out a trembling hand, so pale now that it nearly matched the falling snow, in greeting to the snowflakes that were descending, as they found a rest on her extended hand they simply huddled together. Finding no warmth on their perch to melt them, they stayed. She walked on, nearly invisible though the falling snow. The eerie silver moon light guiding her path as she wondered, she seemed as little more than an elegant, lone shadow gliding though the iridescent snow.

The iron gates of the old cemetery glistened like a silver metallic paint, and the frozen hinges groaned in defiance as she pushed them open, and moved silently though the plotted white ground. Her foot prints, a fading trail being covered by the fresh snow, made no sound in the deathly silence of the night. When at long last she reached the marker, covered in snow as if by a morticians sheet, a calm but trembling hand brushed the snow from the stone. The engraved letters, and deeply etched numbers stood tainted by the morbid atmosphere of the night. With a numb death like finger she traces the words and numbers slowly, painfully, one at a time. Mouthing the words with white, blue trembling lips she lies down on the icy frozen ground in front of the grave marker, as if she were lying there with some entity unseen to the rest of the world. A soft sound, scarcely audible in the enveloping darkness and the hush from the falling snow, escapes her lips in a whispered 'I Love You'. A single tear found its way down her ashen face, a silent tribute to the soundless grave.

The night passes like a silent thief and the gaudy sun began its reign on the day of man. Deep in the heart of the cemetery, off the path where cars can drive to make their warm passing grievances, there stood a grave marker. In the mid afternoon the snow surrounding it glittered like a million diamonds, frozen from the harsh coldness of the night before. Lying before the grave was a pale beauty, a single tear stood frozen to her striking face, she lay still as death, frozen in the snow, holding an unseen lover, covered by only the black sheet that once lined their bed. And like the tear, their love stood immortalized in the mid December snow. The marker of their love, which now rested above both their heads stood witness to her silent prayer and dying vow, which it stated on its cold uncaring face. "Lost But Not Forgotten: Not even the icy hands of death, nor his cold unfeeling kiss, shall ever condemn our love."