The Dark Rider - By Andrew Critchell Page 0,1

but now it was as if they were gripped by a gale, a furious storm thrashing around within them.

“You can see my pain Paul,” she whispered.

Paul spoke, barely audible.

“Yes.”

With that she looked away and seemed to smile. Then her face tensed as her body was racked by pain. Paul wanted to cry out. He went to her and grabbed her hand. She turned to him, compassion on her face.

“It is soon Paul.”

“I know.”

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he spoke and fell upon her hand.

“I will be all right,” she said. As she did, she met his gaze and for a moment her eyes cleared and Paul thought he saw bright forms moving among them and her gaze, full of love and hope, fell on him and touched his soul for an instant. Then the fog of pain returned and she lay back onto the bed.

“Paul.”

Her grip tightened on his hand as she looked up at him with questioning eyes. “You know this is the way. Why do you mourn for me? What is wrong?”

His tears fell from his skin to hers, crossing the age between them. He saw doubt forming in her mind, a spark of uncertainty. For an instant he opened his mouth, the words forming on his lips, but then the fear took him as it always had, and he buried his feelings, knotting them in the ball that was already growing, lodged deeply in his chest.

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m ok,” he said hating himself for the lie.

She studied him, questions forming on her lips, but it was too late now. She pulled herself up, frail fingers gripping his skin, eyes burning into him.

“Promise me Paul,” she rasped, her voice suddenly urgent. “Promise to always remember the goodness of your heart. Despite everything that will happen, you must remember.”

Paul nodded slowly, unable to tear his eyes away from hers. Inside he wanted to run, to get away from the pressure boiling inside of him.

Eventually her gaze softened and she sank back down onto the bed smiling weakly. She squeezed his hand, mustering the energy to speak once more.

“You must leave me now,” she whispered. Paul wiped his tears away and bent forward to kiss her softly on the forehead. Her skin burned under his lips.

“I will always love you,” he whispered. He stood and looked at her frail form before tears overcame him and he went from her room and ran downstairs back to the window seat where he put his head in his hands and cried. Outside the rain was harder now, lashing angrily against the window, while above, ragged clouds ran across the sky, covering the land under their cloak of darkness.

Paul awoke.

The rain had lessened to a steady drizzle, a soft pattering on the window.

Something felt different about the room. The air had become thicker and denser, the stillness within the walls acute. Paul looked around until, with a shock, he realized the clock had stopped. It took a moment for the significance to dawn on him and then, with a strangled cry, he leapt up and ran out into the hall taking the stairs two at a time until he was by her bedside stroking her hair wildly and gripping her lifeless hand.

“No,” he cried out, trying to force back the tears. “There’s something wrong. It’s not me. It can’t be me.”

He looked at her, willing her to open her eyes, to be alive again yet he knew it was impossible. Unable to bear it any longer he pushed himself up and backed away, tears blurring his vision. Before he knew it he was through the door and stumbling down the stairs. He fled back into the sitting room where he fell into the chair and began to cry, his heart wrenched from his chest by grief.

Paul awoke to sunlight streaming in through the open window. The room lay still and quiet around him, slowly claiming the memories and secrets of the life that had once occupied it. Paul felt nothing but a deep emptiness and tiredness. He stretched his cramped muscles and rose from the chair that had been his uncomfortable resting place. The call of a Jackdaw penetrated the silence of the day.

Paul went slowly upstairs and then paused on the landing, his hand resting against the door to her room. What truth would he find on the other side? With the tension mounting within him, he pushed and entered her room. The body was gone, as she had said it would