Valentine
Count
Inner Sanctum Nobility
Autumn morning, cold and gritty. Her breath formed in front of her face as the icey cold tears rolled down her skin, took a slight pitstop on her pale jaw before falling to the ground below. Disappearing into the thick fog far underneath her as the morning started to heat back up for the day. The frost melted into droplets on the still green grass from the fruitful summer they have had, sparkling like tiny stars all around her as the sun breached the horizon, welcoming the new day. The cold metal railing behind her had completely numbed her hands, hands that were gripping it tightly as a desperate last try to not let the safety go. She felt her heart pound in her chest, the only real clue telling her she was still alive, alive for now.
The leaves of the trees around the high bridge, located across a steep mountain, had mostly turned from greens into reds, yellows and oranges. Like her they were struggling to stay in their tree, knowing that any second their grip if the branch would falter, making them fall down to the ground where their life would end. The ground was so far down and yet it only took one moment, a single action to greet it. To finally make the nightmare end. Her stomach hurts. She was scared and the air seemed thick and hard to draw into her lungs. She also started to feel dizzy as she stood there, frozen and awaiting to make the decision to finally let go. Then it happened, all of a sudden. She leaned forward as she released the grip of the railing, plummeting down through the cold air as she turned her body upwards. Her hair caressed her wet face as the bridge quickly fell away. The last thing she would see was the thick fog that soon surrounded her, the colorful leaves up on the mountain before it all went black as her body finally hit the rocks below. The relief from the pain of living was achieved at that moment but for her alone.
She would no longer care yet all who had known her would be struck by grief as fast as lightning hit. One call would devastated them all, filling them with sadness and heartbreak where they blamed themself for not seeing this happening. A loss they would carry heavily in their hearts throughout their lives, always wondering; what if? Had there been any way of preventing this? Was this their fault? Nothing would ever be the same again.
"I ask but that my death may find
The freedom to my life denied;
Ask but the folly of mankind,
Then, at last, to quit my side.
Spare me the whispering, crowded room,
The friends who come, and gape, and go;
The ceremonious air of gloom -
All which makes death a hideous show!"
- Matthew Arnold