Golden rays of the setting sun pierced the pale glow of the moon, coloring the face of a lonely girl standing mute amidst an empty, breathless world. The atmosphere was eerily still around her, with only the frail rustling of dry leaves at the command of the cold wind stirring the atmosphere now and then. The whole world seemed to be holding its breath as it awaited an ending of sorts.
The graves before her were immaculate, well-loved, and tended. They stood in a stark contrast of desolation around them. The first bore a simple, faded inscription
The second carved with equal care
Lettering now faint, whittled away by the seasons, still legible. Next to them lay a third grave-one that was not very old. Its marker bore a name, cut in with fastidious exactitude.
She knelt before it, her fingers brushing against the smooth wood of the marker, still quivering. Her gaze fell to the box she was holding-worn and scuffed after years of travels, yet so dear. It was part of the journey, one which had begun in search of this very moment. The key that she had carried all these years weighed heavier than ever before. Slowly, she reached into her bag for it.
It clicked open with a soft metallic sound as the lid creaked its way to give into its contents
A photograph...
A letter....
A small doll sewn by hand.....
Her lips arced in a smile-fragile, tentative, and brighter than the sun itself. For one brief instance, some of the crushing loneliness and despair lifted. Frayed with age, her eyes gentled as she picked up the photograph of herself at a more tender age, standing between her parents. Though faded now, their smiles seemed lit with a warmth that could transcend years.
She had compared it to the other photo in the box torn and weathered, figures no longer distinguishable, yet oozing from an inexplicable warmth, reminding one of love that once was.
Tears welled in her eyes but did not fall. Next, she reached for the letter, unfolding it gingerly, as if it might crumble under her touch.
If you're reading this, then that must mean you found the clues we left for you. Your mother and I are no longer around anymore to see you grow older, but love will always be with all our hearts.> Her hands shook while she read, the words blurred through her tears. It was not just the box, but a legacy of love left behind by her parents that had seen her through years of solitude. Under the letter lay a crude drawing, made with shaking lines but full of innocent charm. It depicted a family-hers. The back of the paper bore the words She shut her eyes and clasped the drawing to her chest. Her heart, for the first time in years, was full. Reaching deep into the box, she fished out the small doll; the stitches were uneven, the fabric faded. It was a meager thing but held within it the essence of someone's care. She did not hasten to place the doll on top of her parents' grave. Silent and inaudible, a whisper to the wind. Her eyes fell upon the last item in the box-a journal. Inside, its pages were filled with hurried scrawls, documenting the desperate days of her parents after she had disappeared. The last entry read Her fingers traced the words, her tears fell freely now. As the tears fell, however, her face softened into a peaceful smile. She flipped to the back of the journal and with shaking hands bit her finger, writing in her blood: She shut the box and laid it in the ground beside her parents with all the tenderness of which she was capable. It remained only for her to fill in the shallow hole, working weakly yet determinedly until it was accomplished. Done, she stood casting a last glance on the world that now wasn't anything other than silent, shattered, and grotesquely lovely under the wan light of the moon. She reached for a pistol from her purse, glinting faintly at her in the dying light, and lay down in her shallow grave-like outline marked for herself. Everything she did was measured and well thought out, her breaths composed. She lay there, looking upwards to the wide, star-studded sky, her lips hooked up with a serene smile. The first time in her life, she spoke-her voice barely a whisper, hoarse and broken: "L-Love…" It was the only sound she could make. But it was enough. Her lips curled into one final smile, one full of peace. She gathered the contents of the box and buried it again. This time however she dug a small hole beside of her own grave marker and placed the box inside. The world around her was quiet, and the silence much thicker than ever. But she smiled as she looked at the sky for the last time. Above, the stars glittered shining against the dark and endless expanse so contrasting to the bleakness of Earth. And then she climbed into the grave she dug for herself. The wooden marker above had a single name on it It rumbled, then was still once more beneath the eternal silence of the desert waste. Below the immense, uncaring sky lay a girl who had known despair, known loneliness, but found her final moment full of love and peace. In a world which would never remember her, she had chiseled a legacy in love-a last sound, a last smile, a last moment that would reverberate amidst the silent beauty of eternity. In the deathly silence of the world, the last sound finally came-a gunshot. The succeeding silence was complete. She was not afraid, on the contrary, at all, in the end. She didn't die in fear or despair, nor did she have any regret. She died smiling, with a piece of happiness from inside those tattered shreds of life. And as the sound faded out into the vast and vast world, it was silent again. There was complete, never broken, infinite silence. Quiet. Timeless. And it was so beautiful.....