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 “A Love Not Forgotten, part 1“.
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He reached the oncology ward without any difficulty and walked down a few corridors before he stood in front of her room. She was inside; he could hear her heart beat, faint and delicate. He rapped his knuckles against the door softly and stepped inside.
Her eyes fluttered open, and he staggered back slightly. They were the same shade of winter blue as he remembered so vividly from his past. Her hair, which used to remind him of wheat fields in the summer, was thin and white and cropped short. He grabbed the nearest chair and pulled it up to the side of her bed.
The lines of her face deepened as she smiled.
“You haven’t aged a day,” her voice cracked.
He handed her the glass of water that was sitting at her bedside table and helped her to drink. She raised a small, fragile hand against his cheek.
“It’s good to see you, Henry.”
“You look as beautiful as ever,” he said truthfully.
“Oh, now,” she said raising a hand to her withered face, “I’m just an old bag of bones waiting for the good Lord to call me home and hoping it’s sooner rather than later.”
“Rosie…”
“Now, now, don’t you make a fuss over me, Henry. I’ve lived my life.”
He couldn’t get past how beautiful she was. She had aged, but she was as beautiful as ever to him. She always would be. “Tell me about your life, Rosie,” he asked.
“What’s to tell?” she chuckled, and he nearly sighed at the sweet sound of her laughter. “I lived a normal life and grew into old age as gracefully as I could manage. Stayed right here, too. Never did go to Paris. Remember?”
“I never forgot, Rose,” he answered with a smile.
She used to always tell him of her great dream to go across the sea to Europe and visit Paris. She always joked she would eat croissants every morning beneath the Eiffel Tower.
“You haven’t aged a day,” she repeated, her pale blue eyes scanning the features of his face.
“No, I haven’t,” he replied.
