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by Coy
Rated: E · Short Story · Dark · #2070773
A story about promises,regret and Autumn.
         A Pact and its          Consequences
         Coy Skipper

I painted my love on the first day of autumn, as I always did, in respect for the sister I had long lost. I painted quietly and surely while sitting beneath the willow tree that decorated our hidden path so somberly. Her countenance spoke poetry about her pride and self-assurance. Her eyes said nothing. Her lips never moved. Her hands sat firmly, but kindly in her lap. Like a mother with her squabbling child.
We sat there for what seemed to be only minutes while I painted and she watched the sun set around us. There never was enough time to finish was there? She never did seem to notice when it was time to go. She only seemed to sit there long after I had left. Her body aging and corrupting with the years, but still, sadly, tradition needed to keep. The grave gave fine company anyways. They almost seemed to lighten our mood; if that was possible at all!
Time was up and she had gotten up to leave ,her dress that she wore to the funeral still swaying with the rhythmic motion that drove men and woman mad with need. She turned...and as I stared into her eyes; her cold and quiet eyes that I seem to infect with even after death, she dropped to her knees with a "Thump" and cried quietly.
Why was she crying? She wasn't the one who had idiotically given up their sister for Suicide. She wasn't the one that sat there every day of every year on the base of that somber tree. She didn't die with all of the regret a man... no, a brother could have. She didn't need to cry. She needed only to live on so that I could abandon our pointless childhood pact.
"Always visit my grave!" she had said happily.
"You have to do it to Autumn!" I said while jokingly pinching her slowly disappearing belly.
"Ok! Promise me!!"
Her pinky shook rapidly in my face waiting to be received.
"Alright, I promise!"
I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have made that promise. Because now she sits at my grave every year with her pinky extended. Looking for a promise I cannot fulfill.


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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2070773-A-Pact-and-its-Consequences