Where's my love?

The war is over. The dust of the final battle, settling over the fallen soldiers, burying them. Enemies lay there, limbs intertwined, dark red blood mixing with dirt. Some watch the night sky, hoping for the stars to come out, before they draw their last breath. But it is all in vain. The heavens mourn the lost lives, and their tears start to reach the ground. There is no celebration in the air. The war is over, but there is no winner, which will take pride in writing down history. There are two sidess. One has lost the war, and one side has lost just as much. If I were to paint a picture of the scene in front of me, I’d use colours of desperation, hollowness, tragedy. Soldiers crying over the loss of a companion, a friend, back to back with an enemy, lost in their own sorrow. Now, that the war is over, the colour of their uniform does not matter any more. As I pass through them, unnoticed by the weeping men on the floor, I let my senses wander over the graveyard, in search of something. Someone. The time has come for him to go with me. To finally join me. The bloody mud under my feet doesn’t react to my weight, as I step over fading shells of souls. My fingers glide through the thick air, occasionally brushing over helmets. The tears of the heavens burn my face, but it does not matter. I must find him.

“Leave this place, my friends, there is nothing here for you any more.”

At my command, the dead rise and leave for their journey, armour clanging with each step.

Only the mourning soldiers are left, crying over the shallow corpses of their once beloved companions.

“You, too, shall return home now.”

The soldiers rise and leave the place, not sparing a second glance to the ones, they just now mourned.

“Now, now. Where are you, my love?”

I have been waiting all this time, to finally take him with me. This war was my opportunity. My chance to step into the light and meet him face to face. In the past, I could only see him in fleeting moments. When his father had passed on, and he was on his deathbed. When he promised his mother, that he would remember her, long after she was gone. Each and every death was supervised by me. The souls I took with me, always lingered around him. The dead always asked me to stay away from him, not knowing, that he has wished for me all this time. But I do not chase. I stay out of people’s lives, until the time is right.

Now the moment has come. His prayers shall finally be answered.

My eyes flicker over the earth, the corpses, and time stops for a moment.

There, from amidst all the bodies, rises a crown, painted red with blood.

He watches me carefully and steps forward, dropping his sword.

“Finally we meet”, he smiles and reaches out for my hand, “Let’s go home”