Rated G
Disclaimer: Pararmount owns everything.
Summary: A Coda drabble
Lightning. Skin luminous against the dark gash, blood almost black.
He carries her; she is light, though her limbs are heavy and awkward. He remembers those slender arms extended, tremulous, as though made from feather and bone. Just one night ago.
Last night she had seemed weightless, balanced on one arched foot, suspended. Her white dress shimmering, spun from mist. Every gesture aching with sorrow, every movement flawless as glass.
He places her down, speaks her name, but she's frozen, unhearing. He calls out to her, but she is lost, out of reach. Her heartbeat fluttering, fading.
The dying swan.
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© Violet, May 2005. Please email me to post/distribute elsewhere.