In response to the Daily Post writing prompt If I could turn back time
If you could return to the past to relive a part of your life, either to experience the wonderful bits again, or to do something over, which part of you life would you return to? Why?
When he saw her, his face broke into a smile. It didn’t particularly soften his features, nothing ever would, but the softness and tenderness in his eyes could have melted any woman’s heart. It contrasted vividly with his usual demeanour, as if she brought life in the darkness that the world was.
She leaned a hand on his strong chest and sought refuge there. He kissed her brow, embracing her, his arms a shield against the horror of the war. She sighed against his neck, breathing in his scent, breathing out a kiss before she moved onwards. Or was it backwards? He never seemed to know. He only knew that once she was gone from his embrace, from his sight, he felt his duty more strongly and his hatred would wash over him like a tidal wave. He could no more escape it that one could a tsunami.
He might wish he could turn back time but it wasn’t possible. She was gone. To the other side of night. There was no going back. His fingers moved to his burned face. He might wish he was dead but it was against his beliefs. He was meant to be a priest once. Now instead of dealing in forgiveness, he delt in hatred and death, the deadliest weapon in the arsenal of the rebels in this crazy war. He could only see her in his dreams, his hallucinations, as if she never died on the day he changed. She remained beautiful with a face that radiated kindness. He wondered for a moment if she would reconcile the man he was now with the one she’d loved. But it was an irrelevant and futile thought so it would be gone in a moment. She’d died because she was different, because she tried to save him. He should have died in the church when they burnt it.
He would never think it would have been better to never meet; she had brought too much love and light in his heart. But he missed her; and every day he made those bastards, who killed her for being what she was, pay.