Parting is such sweet sorrow

A descriptive piece set in an utopian world lavished with unparalleled beauty, devoid of imperfections. However, a boy is missing a piece to his perfection; the love of one who has never returned his feelings because of her duty. When events take a sudden turn, the boy's lover and teacher Aurelia is left to fight a battle to the death; who will survive? Will love surpass darkness? Read to find out :).


1. Parting is such sweet sorrow

Scattered in the realms of time, man walks a path with Godly transcendence, speckled with décor of unearthly composition. In the fog that clouds clear vision, a golden globe casts beams, rippling upon the recumbent blades of grass. A drop teeters at the tip, the tear of the grass in gratitude to the breath of life from the sun’s coaxing grasp. The luminescent sphere’s radiance puffs the smoky tentacles on its glorious surface in torrential waves, billowing across the wide and rolling hills as the petals of roses are sprung into the air, gliding as fair as a ballerina in the gust; graceful as a swan. The aroma of the petals wafts to the cobbled passage, filling my lungs with an orgy of scents as the hair on my back tingles as the trees in the breeze, encircling the collection of houses in its protective arms.

   The light breathes life into the animals as the robin chirps its gleeful song and the deer delicately sips the water, overlapping in a symphony of sound that resonates within the bones of the native people. I scan the horizon; my sight hooked on the other children playing with glee in the rippling lake. The blue gleams as the clearest cut crystal, endless and bountiful to the earthly eye. A girl, fair in her stance, stands in the centre. The girl is graced with hair of sandy gold, as the sands of time that measure this finite world. Her mellow hair is adorned with Midas’ touch, turning my heart to gold, and oh so painfully heavy in my chest. Strands hang nimbly as a fleece against her rosy cheeks, rich as rubies and as delicate as rose petals. I am immersed in a red passage, where the petals dance to the sound of the flute, and the rubies glisten so bright that my mortal fibre is plucked. Two diamonds shimmer above her perfectly crafted nose; those infinite hazel eyes plunge me deep into a state of mania. The brown, the willow, and the tree pinned dearly to her heart. Her beauty so overwhelming and radiant that the sun’s beams seem to accumulate at her sight as a believer would to God. With her face carries wisdom, sharing slices of her sapience in small heaps as a child of the star. Akin to a violin playing through its delicate strokes, I drag myself away from this sight and carry on with my stroll.

   “So peaceful is this place”, voices within as my feet walk at a saunter under the curtain of green. So tranquil that I may just close my eyes and hear the footsteps of a million mice teeter along the edge of my mind, chiming with my heart in gentle relaxation; a balm to my pressured mind.  

Thought stirs…


    A child of the northern lights, in a vortex of colour, Aurelia was morphed limb by limb by the rainbow of colours in her mitosis. In subtle strokes, she was formed as an unpainted canvas, blessed by the dust of the stars. A sacred creature, cast unknowingly in to a world strewn with corruption, she learned to love all that was natural and beautiful. The willow with its naked limbs, stirring her feelings in a whirl that none other could. Alas, the angel was playing in the Devil’s playground. Grotesque vultures break siege to the landscape, tearing her emotions in two. It is then that she unleashes her hidden powers that are said to initiate the world to shudder in its orbit. Unbound, she disintegrates all life forms, wreathing havoc to the loved land. Dejectedly gazing at her surroundings, a house remained. As she clambered over, she gently opened the door and discovered a boy, deprived of light; orphaned. She decided to form a land of her own with this boy, a utopia where men hooked by the Devil’s tail may not harm the splendour of nature.  

   She promised to train this boy and nurture him. Her schizoid tendencies constantly revealing to the boy that one day there would be survivors holding a secret vendetta against her and that he would be the only one with the power to protect this handsome land. Over time, nonetheless, he gained a growing love for this unparalleled beauty and vowed to share his love when the time came.  

  Sounds break through…

  The chirping of a cricket branches out of the sound in its multitude of depths, gentle as the drop of a leaf within the ripeness of autumn. I am now being dropped into the throat of nature, surrounded in her serenade as one with my body, pulsating within my mortal shell as one with nature and nature one with me. Fears and doubts recede to the taste of the fine apple plucked from the weaning branch above. As my teeth sink in, the apple’s fine juice jumps and moisturises my parched throat. The bitter-sweetness sends a tang in my mouth, sparking a pang of life soaring through my body. I recline on the smoothed body of the apple tree, where I silently lay, lulled as from a lullaby. Her image, branded upon my mind.

   The promise shall be made by the ‘morrow...

   From the branch above, a crow screeches in its hidden leaves and clouts through the tree in heightened anger, as the sun dangerously recedes from the darkening sky.

   The darkness is the sentence of the good, the home for the fiend. It brusquely engulfs the blanket of gold, suffocating its gentle, warm glow. The final aria of nature is cast from its throat, its voice slowly fading from its crescendo as the final pinpricks of light pervade helplessly into the hands of darkness. A solemn requiem plays, voicing over the constant breeze, as the leaves of the luscious oak tree wail as a baby in fright. Huskily, the youthful petals are ripped from their tantalising grasp, wallowing in the host of depths of the void.  

  The creator has painted a crimson ribbon on the horizon, parallel to the stone statues that were once called houses; their silhouettes casting ominous shadows. The trees protrude as pillars while nature has taken a deep slumber.    Silence...

   BANG! Distant shouting awakens me. I stand and stare. I use my eyes as scopes to the horizon. I clumsily climb to my feet and surreptitiously run amongst the shadows. I clamber behind one of the houses, now desolate, empty. A gust confirms this, whipping a chill as cold as ice down my spine. Gently, I cock my head around the corner in a daze at the sight.

    My eyes lock on. I discover the girl I had been gazing upon earlier. Except that her eyes don’t gleam with beauty.

   Fiery is the only word to sum it up. Her rosy cheeks are now blood stained red; the gorgeous hazel brown eyes now look a poisonous yellow. Her hair floats above in fair wisps, as a Goddess in a chariot, geared for battle. A jagged yellow glow emanates as an aura from her body, shattering everything in her path. The crimson ribbon acts as an arena, a fiery battlefield, binding her and two distant figures as one.

    The figures could not be more contrasting. Their chins sharp as the tip of a well crafted blade, daubed with hair that remains rigid as stone. One, a man with hair of midnight blue, the other a girl with hair so vibrant, her head seemed a floating ball of fire. However, they were both tagged with eyes of a chilling blue, marked by a blackish glint that may send a man crazy. They were no taller than the height of an infant tree. Yet, they had a nefarious soot coloured aura seeping from their skin, almost hypnotic as it revolved around the two.

    The black ebbs as sludge, propelled to the sky. Dark masses form instantaneously, hurling droplets to the ground. The heavens first spit upon the earth; disgusted. In a swirl, the dark masses heave a hoard of ice that rampage the beauty that once was this island.   

  The island stretches as an embodiment of me.    

As the first line of ice shoots out and lacerates the nestling trees, I am gashed head to toe.  

  Relentlessly, the second line follows hot on its heels, skewering the fair dear and wild life, piercing my stomach from the butterflies that nest.   

The third, rains down upon the village, impaling the houses as spears into the hearts of the children, mothers and fathers; unknowing and unjust, as a dagger thrust into the depth of my heart.    Only a thin tendon remains that piece me together.   

From the edge of my eye, I catch sight of Willow, her tongue ignited, throwing insults at the cataclysmic duo. Suddenly, she shifts from her stance, and swiftly moves, as a volcano awoken from dormant sleep, spewing her anger unto the clueless duo.  

  Her sturdy knuckles viciously make contact to the sharp chin of the male evil. She follows on with a flurry of Earth shattering strikes that cause fissures in the ground. Masterfully, she back flips, her hair glistening in the gust that follows. At first she smiles. She was at great error.   

The male evil slowly rolls his head, a snigger forming at the tip of his rose red lips. The duo cackle as a gust picks up and the petals rise. With a blink of an eye, they are on their feet surrounded in petals in some form of danse macabre.

They move as one being in a swish of their hair. Their legs form as one and fire as a rocket towards the flabbergasted Willow.   

   Every membrane within my body screams out, rattling as a bird to free itself from a cage. Paralysed, I watch in horror the ensuing events.   

    As if time were to freeze, the tragic pair follows on as the final remnant of life pulsates through the innocent child that binds me in heart and soul. One last willow tree looms over her, a crow watching on in fright as her eyes fixate upon me. She mouths what I feel to be in my heart: “I love you.” Life takes on its normal speed and the legs plough through her stomach in a blinding flash of lightning, gorging through the other end. The last sparkle flickers in her eyes, and the rose cheeks drain of all colour.  

   I am hurled from my feet in a fit of sobs, tears streaming down my peach skin cheeks. My feelings are submerged in water, deprived from oxygen that fuels my vitality. I painfully skim from these thoughts, wrenching my head only to see the rippling water where she had been not so long ago.   

   All turns to a dismal monochrome; my body shatters as glass into a million pieces.   

   The light within my heart lay in reach of its darkness. Wicked as the purple bruise of ink, pure as the golden sands of time. Morsel by morsel, the iridescence of my heart, lay stained as blotched paper. To fight, to defend what was loved in sacrifice of one’s own childhood? Yes, parting is such sweet sorrow, to give up infancy and to lose all that is beautifully naïve. My heart voices determination, however, to set accordance and make the sorrow left behind for me, the sweetness for the girl with rosy cheeks; departing in peace. My mind is snapped from reality. Anger swells as water, rapidly forming a rabid ocean that rips and tugs at the sides of my very being. My soul roars in perpetual anger, only tamed by stopping the insurgence of evil as it lays wrath to nature with its sword of injustice.   

    Ripped to reality, I climb to my feet with my chin held high, striding to the patch of land where Aurelia had lay. I pay last respects holding her deathly pale face to my beating chest. My fingers reach to her silky eyelids as I shield her from the sight as a bear to her cubs. The stars blink a tear upon her sheltered eyes.  A droplet of rain rolls down her face, a glistening gem as I gently lay her down under the arms of the willow tree. Broken and torn, I find my footing and stare at the beholders of the sword as they stare back at me in equal intensity.   

    I take one last glimpse at the horizon, as two doves fly into the break of light that has broken through the darkness. I feel the promise that I shall see you again.

   My dear Aurelia.

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