Forged

If I licked my lips I could taste the words that had just spilled out. It would taste of lightning and ebony. A thick sentiment had drug itself outward before my teeth could catch it. Now too far away to pull back, I lifted my gaze to her dormant face.

Body contorted around mine, draped in sky blue sheets, she looks comfortable in her cotton cocoon. Auburn hair danced in curling waves over the blue pillow casing, the strands looping in and around themselves like docile snakes. Grey blue eyes slept tucked into long eyelashes. If she had heard my projectile word vomit and woke from the glossy sedation of sleep I would melt. Recant and recoil everything I had ever intended. The hot sodder that had become the lump in my throat grew. Every ounce of me longed to nudge my lips against hers.

I settled for securing around her solid frame. Soaking in the small movements of her breath carrying her chest to rise and fall. The pads of my fingers found themselves tracing familiar paths along her spine. Bumping slightly over scars and blemishes. Each with a story I either knew or had been by her side for.

World stopped turning when we’d sleep tangled up in the same bed. Too often when we were young I would sneak in through her window. Carefully traversing stone and mortar to rap on that small glass pane. Waiting patiently for those fly away eyes and crooked toothed smile. She would stroke my hair as I clambered into our little nest. We never thought much of wrapping around each other for strength. Her father’s liquor stained shouts would melt through the walls like a haphazard lullaby. At least that’s what it felt like compared to the gnaw of rats on a tin roof back at my dwelling. Still her body would go ridgid on nights he cast shadows through the doorway. Childhood was an honorable mention in our lives.

Probably for the best. Those forged in fire tend to stand upright in the flames.

When those flames caught they were hungry. Wild fires had started to ravage neighboring cities but none ever came close enough to concern us. The smoke was suffocating though. Heavy plumes rolling like waves over mountain ranges. Swallowing land and sky. No one noticed when they started dipping down to caress city streets. It all just seemed like rogue weather patterns catching disaster in its maw.

When the Smog started to eat up streets I was sneaking past the rusted metal window sill every night. Desperate to escape the air deprived pavement pillows I’d called home. On the third night her father had failed to return, I vowed to stay.

Our first night seeing one of the Stackies, sirens seeped through the ever thickening Smog. We pressed our faces to the second story window hoping to piece together any part of what was happening. Everything past the end of the street was plastered black, only the occasional flash of light breaking through. The edge of the Smog churned out a figure. Familiar in stature. One I had often stared down through a cracked door that spilled light up the bedsheets. She became cement next to me. Fingers habitually intertwining in mine.

We watched the uncoordinated figure slowly shamble closer. Our terror grew and pressed outward until the entire room seemed consumed by it. Jagged edges of his frame soon revealed themselves to be jutting black and green fixtures. Roots seemed to spring from where the skin on his arms, torso, and face was ripped open. Putrid yellow purged from the open flesh as he shifted his weight down the sidewalk. Porus pock marks bore too deep and too close along his skin. A vapor seemed to rise from a couple of the holes causing the flesh around them to appear viscously slick. Shudders rocked his body as he approached the stoop. Creaking the remains of his head upward, we looked down on him, frozen.

We could see now that the black and green fixtures were plants. Bristling as they emitted small black dots which bubbled and spewed down his body. A long moment of nothing passed as black chunks of those viscous dots slowly slid out of his upturned mouth. Eyes unmoving. That is until his left eye started to bulge. It shook as if something were pushing from behind before pressure finally won out. Clear yellow liquid rushed down his cheek smattered with black dots.

That’s when she screamed. His head twisted too far back to look at us, jaw left behind in the motion. Torn from my paralysis, I threw my body into hers collapsing us to the ground.

In the moment of a breath we barreled down the stairs, skipping the last few. My body slammed harshly against the heavy wood door as she fumbled to secure the lock. He was already there heaving his fractured form against the other side. My feet knocked out from under me as if caught in a riptide. Solid wood slammed inward catching me in the face. Everything shattered into triplicate. In the chaos she had managed an umbrella from its stand. Three umbrellas? I shook my head as thick red started to invade my vision.

Gaining my footing I watched as she thrust her entire body weight behind the umbrella sinking its end into his gut. The skin tore like a waxy autumn leaf spilling forward a sickly sweet substance. She pushed with a cry, sending him reeling back.

It was just enough time to slam myself back against the door so she could lock it.

There was a sickening crunch, snap as the umbrella broke. Or at least we assumed it was the umbrella. Continuing to assault the door, his mass sent vibrations through the frame. I screamed for her to help me move the bookcase from the other room to barricade the door.

Once it was secure we slumped against it. Ignoring the violent thuds like we used to ignore his intoxicated lullabies. Our chests heaved as we desperately gulped air to smother the adrenaline.

Tenderly taking my head between her palms she inspected the damage. I winced at her touch. Concern shot like lightning through her eyes. There was something more buried there.

Looking back, that was the first time her eyes had caught fire. Running the umbrella through him. She’d always had it there, burning, but she had learned through circumstance to swallow the smoke. Now that the world was in everlasting flames, she was in her element.

My hand wandered up to the scar running from my right temple to my eyebrow. Little bumps still raised on either side of the initial cut from her sewing me up with dental floss.

We had survived years together in this new world. Standing upright in the flames.

Letting my hand wander off my face, it crept up the pillows, onto the end table at our heads. My fingers navigated over a couple of knives, a can of tuna, a face mask, before slipping into a small leather satchel. Cold metal met my trembling fingers. Scooping it up I slunk my arm out from under her. She nuzzled closer in groggy protest.

Gingerly opening the clasp I set the smooth metal pendant against her chest. Careful to avoid her tangle of hair. Once it was fastened I turned the pendant over and again in my hand. Smooth metal backing clasped together with a tarnished gold heart bubbled out. The intricate design mimicked lace entwining a single red rose. On my last scouting venture it had caught my eye in a shop window. The carefully crafted metal reminded me of those eyes in which I’d buried my heart. Trapped in its belly was the only picture of us that existed. From long before the Smog and Stackies. Small whispers of who we are now smiling wide at each other as if the camera wasn’t even watching.

“Say it again.” Her croaked whisper pulled my lips into a smile.

“You heard that?” I whispered back breathlessly.

She half opened her eyes. Letting slivers of those fly away eyes shine out. “Please. Say it again.”

I swallowed a shaking breath, hand resting on the pendant at her chest. “Be my wife.”

Her eyes opened fully to fall on me. There was a light that seemed to pour from her very being. A flame that I never wanted to live without. “Only if you’ll be mine.”

We locked together. Holding between us everything. Two halves of a heart forged together.