..I Can Feel The Daylight..

For CubanSombreroGal

Cadmus Peverell walks through twisted woods, the intertwining branches of the willows mirroring his own life. The dead leaves crushed and faded beneath his feet, forming a layer of rot over the frozen ground.

He is surrounded by death.

His wife's arms are cold and hollow as he lies beside her in the cold dawn light, the dew slides silently down the window pane replacing the tears his wife is now incapable of crying.

He curses death for the hand that was dealt him, for this is not considered living.

A life of bones and ash, of fake smiles and cups of too hot tea is all that his newly resurrected wife can offer him.

He strokes her hair and she does not speak, her white eyes staring into a world that he has never seen.

For she had moved on and he had been left behind – and now he has a rope around her neck, tying her to a place that was akin to hell for her, but instead of fires there was ice.

She shivered under the blankets he heaped upon her, he wrapped his arms so tightly around her he thought she would break, and still she moaned and shook – for her soul was as bitter as newly fallen snow.

He hides the rock under a loose floorboard, finding comfort in the empty spaces, like the huge gap that fills the earth between the sky and the ground, like the distances between this man and wife.

Cadmus Peverell walks through twisted woods, his eyes seeking out sturdy upper-branches built to hold the weight of a man who is burdened by more than mere bricks.

He brings his shadow wife, who even in her coldness still holds his heart, and as the rope tightens around his elongated neck, he watches her fade into happiness.