Crimson Regret - Short Story

Crimson Regret - Short Story

Babylonia's streets were a place of meetings, laughter and animated

discussions as long as the sun reigned over the city where Semiramis

ruled. But by night, with the silvery orb of the moon competing in

brightness with the twinkling stars, they were grey and forlorn. The

claw-like branches of the trees seemed to reach out for Pyramus as he

wandered among the roads, enveloped in his cape. The buildings threw

long, ghastly shadows when the soot-bellied clouds let through beams

of moonlight. A shiver ran down Pyramus's spine as an icy wind blew on

the back of his neck. He started running towards the towering fountain

that was named the Tomb of Ninus. He saw the moonlight sparkling in

the clear waters of the fountain, and his breath sacked in his throat.

Where was Thisbe? Her virginal white robes should stand out in the

deserted square like a candle in the dark.

"Thisbe! Thisbe!" he called, his eyes searching the surroundings for

his love. "Thisbe!"

His voice echoed in the silence. She was not there. Had she not been

able to come? Had her father surprised her? Had he locked her in,

forced her to admit, made her swear never to see him again?

And then suddenly, the blood froze in Pyramus's veins.

The wind blew ever so slightly on the soft earth, but it had not wiped

the trails of round paws out. A lion. Pyramus's glance followed the

trail left by the feline, his heart bumping against his ribs like a

trapped animal. A cry died on his wizened lips.

A veil. The white veil of chastity that Thisbe was forced to cast over

her beautiful face whenever she left the manor that had become her

prison. Pyramus darted towards it, his eyes widened, his cheeks

bloodless, his bare feet uncaring of the little sharp rocks that sank

into them, screaming soundlessly.

His numbed fingers closed around the thin veil, which fell back to the

ground like a stream of water that he could never grasp.