Contest Entry- Love the House You're In

He sat there in the stillness of the night, sitting on the edge of the balcony overlooking the city. Sylva looks out, each pinprick of light seeming to melt together until he couldn’t tell where the stars ended and the lights from the windows began.

He felt as if he was the only person left in the world, although he didn’t want to be. He wanted to be with her again, despite the fact that was not possible. She was dead, and he was left to roam by himself.

No light came from the room behind him. The place seemed abandoned, almost anyways. Everything was in its place, so pristine it looked as if nothing had been touched in years. Nothing had been touched; save for one picture frame, the glass smashed and lying face down on the floor.

 Sylva felt the blood run down his wrist, how he wished it would all spill and everything would be over. The lights danced before his eyes as tears made his vision waver. How could he move on? Almost everything he did reminded him of her. Even when he ran his hands through his dusty brown hair he remembered how she used to laugh when she played with the tuft of hair that stuck out above his forehead, or how she used to tease him that his ears stuck out slightly. He remembered how he used to laugh when she placed kisses on the end of his nose or along his squared jaw.

Making up his mind he, regretfully, withdraws the thoughts of trying to improve himself, sincerely believing the results would be a disaster. Like a well-intentioned demon, no matter what he tried, the results would be merciless. He could feel it, the destruction within him, tapping like a crow against glass.

He looks up again, remembering the constellations they used to discuss, Sylva was always interested in what she had to say about them, and she always had something to say. She showed a great love for the stars that Sylva had never really understood, but had always accepted. But now his life seems to spiral into a starless future. She was his star, adding light to his life. The light may not have been very bright, but it twinkled in a multitude of colours, radiating warmth that only he could feel.

Sylva closes his eyes, those beautiful azure eyes she had loved, and he can see her. He can see her movements, her smile; he can hear her voice and her wonderful laugh in his head. But the image fades into darkness. He feels empty, useless. He could have saved her, but he didn’t. He used to be a man that could stand perfectly still in the darkness and be content, but now the darkness crushed him.

 But there was still a flicker of light that although small, would eventually grow to a roaring flame that would chase away the darkness. Yes, forgetting would be difficult, if not impossible, it was now written on the wall. But he was going to write it in the stars, for her.

Stepping back inside, his strides long and slow, Sylva finally changes out of the clothes he wore at the time of the incident a week ago. Blood was still spattered on the edges of the long, black sleeves of his jacket and on the collar of the white shirt underneath. Even his favourite blue tie didn’t escape being mutilated with the blood of a loved one.

Finally, sleep catches up with him so he plods into his bedroom and falls into a deep sleep, his face illuminated by the starlight that drifts through the half-drawn blind. And as Sylva closes his eyes, he could swear that the stars aligned, if only for a brief second, into her smiling face.