Chapter: I never listened to the wind

Chapter 4: I never listened to the wind
The door opened slowly and she looked into HIS shining eyes. "Do you remember me?" She asked and a hint of a smile crossed his face. Of course he still remembered her and invited her in. He was alone in the house because his father was still at work. "It's really nice here," I said and looked around. His family used to be very poor, much poorer than mine, but in this city he really seemed to have achieved something, judging by the fine furniture in the house.
"Thank you. I'm glad to see you again, it's been a while. What brings you here?" He said. She couldn't bring the truth to her lips, not yet. It would have shocked him pretty much if she had explained to him the matter with the poison and the background to this act. So they talked about some "safe topics", starting with the weather, then exchanging memories.Each asked the other what they'd been up to in the meantime.
"Have you had some serious illnesses again lately?" He asked, worried. "Oh, it worked. But now we finally know why, we found out that I ..." It almost slipped out that she had AIDS. There was no way she could tell him that, not in this situation. She enjoyed being around him and being able to smell his scent. She didn't want him to worry about her again.
She quickly changed the subject and he left it at that. Still, the rest of the time he gave her a suspicious and, despite everything, slightly worried expression. After a while she couldn't take it anymore, got up and looked at the photos that were on the fireplace. The image of a young woman caught her eye immediately.
"Is that your little sister, Cynthia? She got really big," she remarked and remembered the girl who used to get on her nerves, but who had grown dear to her.He replied with a smile: "No, this is my fiancée, we will get married on Sunday, isn't that nice? Do you want to come too?" That gave her heart a pang. He loved someone else and would you even marry her? It couldn't be ... it couldn't be! Sunday, two days from now ... In fact, she would live long enough to be there at the wedding. The further she spun these thoughts, the more they hurt. She collapsed and he hugged her. "Are you okay?" He asked worriedly. But she no longer wanted to be held by him, never wanted to touch him again. He too had left her. She should have used more poison from the start ... now she had the problem. But then she saw a small dagger lying on the fireplace, mainly used for handicrafts.
His confusion was great when she picked up the dagger and held it out to him. At first he feared she wanted to kill him, but then she whispered, barely audible, "Kill me."He backed away and replied in horror," No, never! What's wrong with you? "She came after him and kept mumbling:" Please ... kill me ... "
She couldn't kill herself, she couldn't. She wanted to die at his hand. He had already broken her heart, so it should be him who took her life.
A gust of wind came up and the candle that had lit the room went out. A bit of light from the setting sun was still shining through the window, otherwise they were plunged into complete darkness. "Stop it, you're crazy!" He shouted and kept walking back. Only his outlines were visible, but by the faint sound of his footsteps she could tell that he was still walking back.
He hit a wall. Now she came closer and closer and still held out the knife to him. She didn't see that he had stopped. He couldn't go any further.
She held the knife in front of her. "Please ...", she said again and tears gathered in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.She felt resistance. What was that? Had she run into a wall? No, it was too soft for that. A warm liquid ran over her hands and she shrank back. The dagger got stuck. She already guessed what had happened. "No, I ... I just wanted ... No, not ... NO!" She shouted and stormed out of the house. Out in the sunlight, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that her hands were completely covered in blood up to the elbows. As she ran, it dripped down her clothes, her legs, her feet ...
People looked around for her and when they saw the picture in HIS house, they shouted, “Murderess, murderess!” When she heard this, she covered her ears. She didn't want to hear that. The blood also flowed over her face. She couldn't take it any longer and collapsed. She cried until she ran out of tears ... and that was until the village judges sentenced her to the death penalty for murder.But before she could receive it, the poison killed her. Her grave was built in the village ... and every now and then you think you can hear voices in the wind warning a traveler of something stupid. But let's be honest: who believes these voices?

Sun
The morning is dawn, I'm already awake.
I lie in bed and think ...
My heart is full, but someone is missing.
I would have loved to tell you so much.

There is no point in being sad
the sun is still shining!
That's the mess right now
the sun is shining as if nothing is wrong ...

It's getting light, I feel empty.
I wish it wasn't like that!
You're never standing in front of my door again
the sun is shining - I hate her for that!

There is no point in being sad
the sun is still shining!
That's what makes the pain so brutal:
The sun is shining like she doesn't care ...

And if you sweat and if you freeze
and if you lose your mind ...
Whether you die alone in the dirt
the sun is shining like nothing has happened.It's not like in the movie
the hero dies at the end
so that you don't have to do without him for too long.

It's not like in the movie
you can't just go
you can't rewind either
so as not to see the end!

There is no point in being sad
the sun is still shining!
That's the mess right now.
The sun is shining like there's nothing to it.

I don't know what the future will bring
and even if that sounds cheesy:
I cried for you tonight
I wish the sun was shining for you ...

:;:;:; End, for good. Man, I'm kind of proud of myself! That is probably the end of what I managed to do best (after that of Sol et Scelus. That was also good, or rather sad)! I like these sad endings, and this one wasn't certain until after our last Latin lesson. I like our teacher there, but somehow she inspires me to write sad stories. So I dedicate this to her (haven't dedicated anything for a long time ...). This is probably my shortest story, but in my opinion also my best!I hope you see it the same way ...:;:;:;