Link to previous form:
xXxOR 400 words (or less) describing a moment of their life:
Evening. The end of the daylight. Evening. The end. The words spun through her head with the wailing ambulance, the sirens like mourners for a funeral already, the beeps of the heart monitor counting down the seconds. She was not ready to let him go, not yet. Her dark paw gripped his soft, sun-like one, the same that had brushed her cheek, his orange eyes, that she had spent so much time staring into, drifting closed. The nurses in their clean, white uniforms gathered around him, giving orders to each other. There was so much blood. So much blood. It stained his front like a jacket covering his torso, matting his fur, even as the nurses cleaned it. Eve could see their faces, trained to be emotionless, but she could see the worry. Burning flames raced along her eyes, leaking out in little droplets. Not yet. Oh god, not yet...
A twitch in her paw. She looked up quickly, the tears making her vision blurry. Quickly wiping them away, the green optics met the soft orange ones, lips curled in a weak smile. He opened his mouth. Her ears were sharp, catching every painful word. "Evening. Don't blame yourself. This... All this was going to fail someday. We knew the sun should not love the moon, the moon should not yearn the sun. We knew." "But you're going to be fine! Things are going to be fine." "At least try to be convincing." "I'm... I'm so sorry.... " "Don't be."
A smile.
A light peck on a cheek stained with tears.
Eyes drifting closed.
Light going out.
Sirens stop.
Line flattens.
Hurried voice
Limp paw
Sun burning up
Moon grieving
The world
Ending.
The day was warm, sunny, and cheery. The open grave looked like the mouth of a beast, ready to swallow the last of her sun.
She did not look into that open casket. She had cried, "That's not my sun! That's not my sun!"
For it was only a husk of what she had loved. Not the sun to her moon. Never again.
The open grave, like her own heart, a yawning cavern that refused to close.
The mahogany lowered into the grave, dirt piled up.
Goodbye, my sun.
Evening. True, it means end, but it also means beginning. Beginning of the night, the darkness.
But night does not last forever. It is always darkest before the Dawn.
(Optional) A derpy "school-like" photograph:
"Smile!"
"No."
Art by Me
I'm so depressed now.