An Extinguished Fire

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
A description of a woman dying in the arms of her husband.

Once again, read it and leave comments about improvements please :) Thanks.

Submitted: November 07, 2012

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Submitted: November 07, 2012

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I've always wondered what death would be like.

This thought comes to me faintly as I lay on the ground. Warm blood escapes from my chest, collecting in a pool under me. I am aware that it is too much. There are sounds around me, a dull noise that I can't comprehend.

Someone grabs my hand. I look to the figure: Malcolm. His cheeks are damp and his eyes bloodshot. In the six years I have been married to him, I have never seen Malcolm cry, not even when we learned that I couldn't bear children.

He squeezes my hand. "It's going to be alright."

I wonder if he says that for his own benefit. I know that it isn't going to be alright.

"The ambulance is on its way," he says. He gently lifts me up and sets my head on his lap. Then he holds his sweatshirt firmly on my wound. I do not think it will matter, but I do not protest.

I stare up into the familiar face of my husband; I love every freckle, every laugh line, every word he’s ever spoken. He already knows, but I remind him. "I love you always."

"And forever," he finishes, choking on the gasps that he had attempted to hold in. "I love you too."

He bends down to me and kisses my lips softly, as if afraid I might break. I savor his sweet kiss.

I realize that I haven't finished the bucket list I made when I was fourteen. I am amused at this. It doesn't matter to me that I haven't gone sky diving or climbed a mountain. I have been wholly and completely loved by another and have loved him just the same. What more can I have wanted from life?

The sounds around me grow dimmer and I feel as if I'm falling apart.

"Malcolm," I breathe. And then I frantically wonder what I want our parting words to be.

He fills in for me. “You will never leave my heart.”

“I will never even leave your side,” I say. “But…” I falter. Speaking is becoming a strain. He waits patiently for me. “But,” I continue, “I want you to be happy.”

His damp eyes are uncertain as he thinks about what I say.

I panic. “Promise. You must promise to be happy.”

He takes my limp hand to his face and kisses my fingers. “I can promise to try to be happy, babe.”

I sigh, relieved. He throws off the sweatshirt, no longer hopeful it will make a difference. He understands the inevitable. He takes me into his arms and leans me up against his chest as he has done so often before, but never as desperately. I feel his tears drip down onto my head, and they comfort me.

My strength is failing. The world is growing dimmer and then everything fades. All I feel is the warmth of Malcolm holding on to me and his strong hands gripping me tightly.

“I love you,” I remind him one last time.

If he answers, I don’t hear him. All I hear is the beating of our hearts together, mine faint and his strong. With my last strength, I tighten my hand on Malcolm. Then, I release my hold on everything in the world and fall away.


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