Title: A Love Not Forgotten
Genre: Fiction, Dark Fantasy
Writing Prompt/Inspiration: Having a girl’s night with two great friends and making our way through True Blood season two caused me to think of vampires (duh). I’ve wondered before what it would be like for a vampire to revisit the love of their human life years in the future, rather than being 100 plus years old and falling in love with a 16 year old. This continues from part 1 and part 2.
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Her face grew solemn and she pursed her lips, her gaze piercing and cold.
“Why are you here, Henry?”
“To see you.”
He shook his head, shrugging. He gave her the only honest he knew, “I still love you, Rosie.”
Her laugh, not meant to be hurtful, echoed in the room, “Oh, Henry. I’m just an old woman waiting to die. There’s not much for you to love.”
“I never stopped loving you,” he said. “It was only ever you.”
“And when I’m gone, there will be others. You need to let go of what happened to you. Let go of your past, Henry.”
As she lay there, on her death bed, Henry was amazed at the wisdom of her words. She always saw what he didn’t. Even know, when he was no longer human, she saw what he couldn’t.
“Henry,” her small voice spoke, “whatever happened to you the night you left changed you. Whether it changed you for better or worse remains to be seen.”
“For worse,” he answered, unable to meet her eyes. “I’ve done terrible, awful things, Rosie.”
“So tomorrow you’ll do one less terrible thing than you did today. And the day after, one less, and so forth; until you are no longer doing terrible things. What happened to you Henry was not your fault. But what you do with yourself in this new life of yours is entirely your fault. Better or worse.”
He turned his gaze back to hers and rose from his chair, planting a soft, delicate kiss on her wrinkled cheek.
“I will always love you, Rosie.”
“I love you too, Henry,” she replied, and he felt his heart come to life, vibrating with happiness at that simple, honest statement. “Now go,” she chuckled, patting his cheek, “live your long, long life Henry and be happy.”
His eyebrows knit together, “I could stay with you, Rosie. Let me stay with you.”
“Go, Henry,” she repeated. “Let an old woman die in peace.”
He nodded once and pressed his lips to hers. They were thinner, but she tasted as sweet as she did when they were young lovers with big dreams. Dreams that were never fulfilled.
“I think I’ll go to Paris,” he told her before he walked to the door.
She smiled again at him, “Be sure to eat a croissant beneath the Eiffel Tower.”
“Every morning,” he replied. “Goodbye, Rosie, my love.”
He walked out of the room and down the hall, leaving the woman he loved for the second time.
For the last time.