Aroma
By: Megan B.
He ran through the alley, towards the woods, pulse pounding in head, brush breaking under him. Hearing the steady breathing of the man chasing him didn’t exactly help.
Abruptly turning off the path to hide behind a limp tree, he gasped for breath. Quickly running off the path had shocked the man chasing him, but now he was not far behind. Glancing around his shoulder, he opened his mouth for yet more breathes, and ran on.
Meanwhile, in the head of the man chasing him, the only sound was constant cursing for the lunatic he was chasing, and the rapid beat of his heart. He was less fortunate in the age category, however. Doubled over, hands on knees, he stopped to catch breath before leaning against a tree, black with death.
Rain had begun to fall from the darkening sky.
Whilst the lunatic slowly ran to a jog, rain splattered on his hat. Dark, cool, replenishing rain. Tilting his head back, he opened his mouth. Rain drops from the sunless sky fell over his face, few plunging into his mouth.
He slowly trudged, leaves and twigs crumpling beneath his boots, over to the nearest tree.
How this will ever end, he thought. Sitting down, he closed his eyes, bringing back memories of Her.
“She was everything. Mine and mine only. But now it’s different. She put me here. Now, because of her, I am looked upon as a madman,” he thought aloud. Slipping his hand into his jacket pocket, he fumbled his fingers for what they intended, and they met.
The rain had now turned to a mist.
Pulling out a black rose, he inhaled, eyes closed. Suddenly he was on Memory Lane. Memories flooded his brain and over his closed eyelids, like little movie clips. Sweet aroma flooded his nose.
A drop of single rain plopped on his nose, bringing him back to those dark, dull, and dead woods he was in—reality. Looking around, the man adjusted his dark blue hat and pulled a lighter out of his pocket. Flickering the lighter, he slowly inhaled, leaning the defenseless rose toward the flames. Closer and closer the rose leaned, until the flames finally danced over the rose’s black pedals. The aroma once again filled the air like a ribbon of warmth. The rain was now barely existent, but still tangible.
The flame had caught the other man’s attention, and as he slowly left the tree, an irresistible smell met him, and he could not help but follow to the source.
As the lunatic watched the rose slowly being engulfed alive by the excited flames, he heard the brush crackle noisily behind him; spinning around, he saw the man that was to capture him. Fear filled his eyes, and the man saw, for he gestured that he meant no harm.
Together, they watched the rose burn, down to the man’s fingers, black ashes of sweet aroma falling lifeless to the ground.
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19th Nov, 08
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moorizzel
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