The Crimson "Gentleman"
That year, she cried out, "There's a ghost!" and threw herself into his arms. The moans behind the door became their unspoken secret. She was like a porcelain doll, delicate yet haunting, stirring ripples in his young, darkness-steeped heart. But the first thought that flashed through his mind was-destruction. Twelve years later, his father brought her home. His mother collapsed outside his father's bedroom door, dead from a sudden heart attack. And in front of her, he sent his father to his final rest. Because twelve years ago, he had said- "Let's always be together."-Why do beautiful things exist?To be possessed-then destroyed.Is it the beautiful woman who brings ruin,Or the hands that reach to claim her? Or merely the tide of longing, boundless, unrestrained? By the banks of the River Lethe, she stands-a solitary poppy, Her breath a whisper of ruin, her touch a kiss of dust. Who drinks her essence will fade, body and soul, into the void. It is not love, nor hatred, Not life, nor death, Not desire, nor sorrow.At the edge of oblivion, the flowers bloom-never to wither.…