The Blue Light

The blue light poured from his screen as he typed his confession.  The guilt was already fully consuming him.  It illuminated everything in the room they shared.  Her pillow next to his, the picture of them on the wall, and his fingers typing furiously on the keyboard below.

The blue light was reflected back at him in one of his cat’s eyes, which startled him for just a moment.  He thought it was her.  He thought she was already home.  He turned his head back to the screen and continued typing.  He needed it to be finished by the time she arrived.

The blue light from the moon illuminated the field they first made love in, on the blanket she now had wrapped around her shoulders. As they walked along, he asked her why they just couldn’t go back to the days where they would drive off into this field and make love for hours. She tried to explain the burdens of life, work and family, but he was too distraught and guilty to understand. They kept walking.

“Do you remember this tree?” he asked her, pointing to the gnarly old oak with their initials carved in the trunk?

“Yes, but that doesn’t change anything,” she replied.

“I told you I was sorry, what more can I do?” he pleaded.

“I…I don’t know if there is anything you can do,” she stammered, “Bringing me out here isn’t going to change what has happened.”

She was right, nothing could change what he had done.  He knew his world was crumbling around him.  He knew that he could have tried harder to close the distance that had grown between them over so many years.  He knew that bringing her to this spot would not make up for what he had done.  He knew it was over.

He told her to lay the blanket down.  She reluctantly did, and he lay down on it.  He told her to join him, just one last time.  He told her to put her head on his chest, like she used to.  She did.  At that moment, tears began to stream down her face.  She looked up at him with her doe eyes, and his mind immediately drifted back to when they were just starting out and she would look up at him with her head on his chest crying; as he comforted her from all of the trials that face young lovers.  He fought back the urge to cry himself.

They lay there for about an hour, him holding her, her looking up at him.

His phone notification sounded.  His scheduled post had gone out to his social media accounts.

“I’m sorry,” he said a final time as he pulled the trigger of the gun he had been holding on her since he forced her to take a walk with him in the blue light of the moon on the field.

He lifted her bloody head off of his chest, took off his clothes and wrapped them and her up in the blanket.  He carried the bundle and dropped it into the grave he had dug on the other side of the tree, and shoveled the dirt over his love.  He grabbed the backpack full of clothes hanging from the tree limb, put them on, grabbed his new identification, and headed out into the blue light.

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Author: Josh Wrenn

Cancer survivor, wanna-be artist, musician, author, and all around good guy.

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