07-21-2015, 11:37 AM
He wonders, too, if she will one day find his body scattered across the rocks. His thoughts have always been tinged with the morbid – it’s a given, with his glass state. It’s made worse by the fact he finds a certain wonder to the falls, to the strength of the water pounding down, how the rocks stand strong (centuries will pass and they will be gone, he supposes, but for him to be gone would only take seconds). It is not a suicidal thought – he has no wish to die – but the thoughts of the rocks, the water, follow him and find way into his dreams.
She tells him what happened, and he wonders. He knows what it is to be cursed, though his came with birth (perhaps because he was born to a woman dead, a woman risen from the sea to return to her love). Though he would prefer a predator to prey.
The thoughts are banished when she is closer, neck to his. He can feel the strength of her, all sinew and muscle, and wonders what he must feel like in comparison. The moment is short, she stiffens and is gone, and the skin she once touched feels cold.
“You’re not,” he says, then, “I have nowhere else to go. I can stay as long as you’ll have me here.”
contagion
be careful making wishes in the dark