To See The World In A Grain Of Sand

By Melanie E.

Another one of those "wake up in the morning with an idea" pieces.

A word of warning -- I cried writing this.

-==-

“Are you sure about this?” He asked his beloved as they clutched hands, staring out across the expanse of sand before them.

“More than anything in my life. If the rumors are true... I can't waste any more time.”

“I'm scared,” he admitted, leaning on his cane slightly as a twinge from his back reminded him just how bad the chill morning air was for him. “For me. For you.”

His beloved smiled, looking at him with those amazing eyes, still the same after seventy-five years. “Don't worry. It's a blessed beach, not a cursed one. I don't think it will do anything to you unless you will it.”

They had been born in the same town, on the same night, to parents who had known each other for years before then. They had grown up as playmates, then as friends, though social stigmas had kept them from ever being anything more. They had been there for each other through one another's marriages, children, and even grandchildren, and now that they could take it no longer, and had found the means, they were prepared to take that next step forward in their relationship, a step they had both known was inevitable since they were children.

A step that required a very real step, out onto the beach. Then another, and another.

He could feel the changes in his beloved with each step they took, the energy building in their hands and seeming to supercharge their love for one another.

Four steps. Five.

On the fifth step, a stumble. He knelt quickly, taking his beloved's face in his hands and looking into those eyes again, seeing immense pain, but determination. No words were shared, only a slight nod, and, with a great deal of the effort being on his part, they returned to their feet, and continued the trek across the wind-blasted sands.

Nine. Ten.

Another stumble, this time with an alarming wheeze. Again he went to his knees, and again his beloved's gaze was determined. This time, though, they could not stand.

With his own determination, he dropped his cane and, taking both hands, lifted his beloved into his arms. He had known before they had made the journey that his beloved had become merely a wisp of their former self, but this was made more obvious by how light they were as he cradled them, and with a herculine effort began to walk again.

Fifteen steps.

Twenty.

Twenty-nine.

The beach was not long, but it seemed like ages to him as he trudged forward, sheer willpower keeping him standing as that energy, that odd, beautiful energy, continued to wrap around them, flowing through them; flowing into his beloved, whose labored breathing was growing more alarming by the second.

Thirty five.

Forty-four.

Forty-nine.

With one last step he collapsed to his knees, carefully laying his beloved — his one, his only, his everything — on the grass at the end of the beach. He had felt the energy stop, and knew that his beloved's wish had been granted.

But what about his?

A gentle hand touched his face, a hand he would swear was much more delicate than it had been before, though still just as frail. With trembling lips he kissed the palm, before looking down into those eyes, those same gorgeous eyes. Leaning down, he finally allowed himself the kiss he had wanted to give his beloved since they had been children, a kiss she happily returned, with what little energy she had left.

Pulling back, he watched his beloved's smile grow even as the last of that precious life faded from her eyes, her dreams fulfilled. Her hand went slack in his.

Left alone on the edge of that beach, he wept.

-==-

NOTES: I don't usually write sad stories, or senior-age pieces, but this... I couldn't NOT write it.