Howling For You
Oct 27, 2014 0:46:53 GMT
Post by Charlotte Thorne on Oct 27, 2014 0:46:53 GMT
Charlotte was roaming the woods, leather boots crunching on the dry, dead leaves caking the damp, forest floor. She had the dark hood of her sweatshirt up, shielding her face in shadow as her auburn hair blew out the sides in the cold, crisp, October breeze. Layered on top she had her worn, moto jacket for added warmth which she was rarely seen without for it had belonged to her mother. The cozy keepsake kept her body temperature at a comfortable level as she hiked steadily through the Scottish, rolling forest. The canopy of leaves let in little sunlight, the sky darkening into dusk as the last traces of the golden and pink sunset vanished, tinting the sky violet and then deep indigo, giving way to the full moon and litter of twinkling stars stretched out like a blanket above her.
Charlotte had a lot on her mind, mainly her mother's memory. It had been three whole years without her and still everyday felt like a fresh wound, the grief having not dulled at all. That's why Char did this, to escape, get away from her classmates and have a few hours spent in solitude to think of her mum, sometimes talking to her, whispering as if her spirit was present, watching over her and guiding her like an angelic being. It helped to think that way, optimistically, she was still around, Char just couldn't see her or at least that's what she tried to convince herself to believe. It kept her going, kept her from shutting down completely.
"Today's your anniversary mum..." Hissed the melancholy girl to the sky, inclining her chin to gaze past the canopy of dark leaves and into the twinkling, early night. "Please..." Charlotte quietly begged, her voice breaking as a silent sob bubbled up from her parched throat. She did her best not to cry, to be strong but nobody was around and she couldn't contain the grief flooding her. A single tear slipped down her freckled cheek. "Give me a sign that you're really up there, I need closure, I need to let you go but I can't. I miss you so damn much and it's not getting any easier, I can't take this much longer, mum. I'm so close to just giving up entirely... I'm so sick and tired of being alone.... I can't live this way." Charlotte sniffed, wiping away the rebel tear with the sleeve of her frayed sweatshirt.
Just then she heard a twig snap from somewhere off in front of her. The Gyffindor stopped dead in her tracks to listen, her senses becoming more alert and all previous traces of depression vanishing in an instant as adrenaline took over. She knew these woods were dangerous but that didn't stop her from hiking in them nearly every night and camping out in them on the weekends, like tonight. A morbid part of her did this on purpose, ignored every instinct forbidding her from entering the Forbidden Forest to instead indulge in reckless pleasure and go hiking alone anyway. Because if Char was being completely honest with herself, a deep, dark part of her was actually hoping to run into danger, for fate to intervine and take her life, offer her a way out from her pain and grief, show her mercy and grant her the freedom of death.
Charlotte readjusted the strap of her backpack slipping off her shoulder which was charmed to hold an array of useful things, including her tent. She drew her wand and proceeded, walking as silently and stealthily as she could, making her way slowly over the hillside to peer down into a small clearing at the bottom of a steep twenty foot drop. In the center was the figure of a male, dark-haired and doubled over, as if he were in agonizing pain. Then her hammering heart stopped as he turned to peer up at her, having sensed or heard her approaching.
Maximus Mendes
Charlotte had a lot on her mind, mainly her mother's memory. It had been three whole years without her and still everyday felt like a fresh wound, the grief having not dulled at all. That's why Char did this, to escape, get away from her classmates and have a few hours spent in solitude to think of her mum, sometimes talking to her, whispering as if her spirit was present, watching over her and guiding her like an angelic being. It helped to think that way, optimistically, she was still around, Char just couldn't see her or at least that's what she tried to convince herself to believe. It kept her going, kept her from shutting down completely.
"Today's your anniversary mum..." Hissed the melancholy girl to the sky, inclining her chin to gaze past the canopy of dark leaves and into the twinkling, early night. "Please..." Charlotte quietly begged, her voice breaking as a silent sob bubbled up from her parched throat. She did her best not to cry, to be strong but nobody was around and she couldn't contain the grief flooding her. A single tear slipped down her freckled cheek. "Give me a sign that you're really up there, I need closure, I need to let you go but I can't. I miss you so damn much and it's not getting any easier, I can't take this much longer, mum. I'm so close to just giving up entirely... I'm so sick and tired of being alone.... I can't live this way." Charlotte sniffed, wiping away the rebel tear with the sleeve of her frayed sweatshirt.
Just then she heard a twig snap from somewhere off in front of her. The Gyffindor stopped dead in her tracks to listen, her senses becoming more alert and all previous traces of depression vanishing in an instant as adrenaline took over. She knew these woods were dangerous but that didn't stop her from hiking in them nearly every night and camping out in them on the weekends, like tonight. A morbid part of her did this on purpose, ignored every instinct forbidding her from entering the Forbidden Forest to instead indulge in reckless pleasure and go hiking alone anyway. Because if Char was being completely honest with herself, a deep, dark part of her was actually hoping to run into danger, for fate to intervine and take her life, offer her a way out from her pain and grief, show her mercy and grant her the freedom of death.
Charlotte readjusted the strap of her backpack slipping off her shoulder which was charmed to hold an array of useful things, including her tent. She drew her wand and proceeded, walking as silently and stealthily as she could, making her way slowly over the hillside to peer down into a small clearing at the bottom of a steep twenty foot drop. In the center was the figure of a male, dark-haired and doubled over, as if he were in agonizing pain. Then her hammering heart stopped as he turned to peer up at her, having sensed or heard her approaching.
Maximus Mendes
