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Yin & Yang
SUDDENLY nothing happened-but it happened suddenly. The wind stopped blowing, the white tulips stopped waving. She sensed his presence long before she could see him, her long, wavy black hair settling over her delicate frame. He raised one firm hand in greeting, and she waved her pale, dainty fingers in return. When he reached her they embraced, lips gently touching, his palm brushing her white cheek.
“Samil,” she breathed, skin tingling under his touch.
Her loose white dress was pressed against him, rustling softly. The pair looked a yin and yang, he black from head to toe save his white skin, she black from head to toe except for her white dress. Reluctantly they broke the kiss, turning and gazing over the unusual landscape. The field was filled with white tulips, and the sky was blue, apart from a few drifting clouds. The amazing scenery reached as far as the eye could see.
“Beautiful,” he murmured into her thick hair. “Just like you.”
She blushed as he wrapped his strong arms around her waist, holding her like a china doll. As she bit her lip he looked into her liquid brown eyes, gently stroking her back. She looked down, partly afraid to meet his absorbent gaze, partly to admire the flowers. Hearing an out-of-place click she glanced up, eyes widening in horror. Samil stood in front of her with a pocketknife, holding the handle firmly. She let out a small whimper and he smiled tenderly, stepping back as if to get a good look at her.
“I’m really sorry, Niona.”
He leaned forward, caressing the soft skin on her arm. She jerked away, breath shallow. As he laughed she started to shake, clasping her hands behind her to hide her renewed fear. He took a solemn step forward, catching her arm in a caring yet firm grip.
“No, Samil,” she pleaded, taking a step back and tugging on her arm, but to no avail. His breath was hot against her ear as she quaked in his grasp.
“I didn’t want to do this, but I have to. It pains me, but I must.”
And with that he pulled back the knife, bending at the last moment to cleanly cut the stem of a tulip. Gaping, she accepted the flower from his outstretched palm, her heart going a mile a minute.
“I-I thought-“He laughed again, dispelling all her fears, the blade held loosely in his hand. She snatched it easily out of his grasp, running a slender finger over the flat side of the blade.
“I know what you were thinking. That I’m as beautiful as this flower.” She snorted, all pretenses gone. “Me, like this stupid flower?!” Crushing the delicate petals in one hand she took menacing step forward, eyes narrowed.
“Now, Samil,” she put on a simpering smile, “I, unlike you, am really not sorry. Not really.” He took a frightened step back, then another, and she mimicked him, each step larger than the last. “Isolation. From everyone and everything I’ve ever loved. Everyone I’ve ever known, in fact! Everyone except you,” she spat, her once pretty features twisted into a sneer.
One more big step and she drove the pocketknife deep into his chest, the blade buried up to the silver-decorated hilt. Blood, a dark red, bubbled from his lips before he fell backwards onto a carpet of plants and soft earth. His black-clad body convulsed once, but by that time Niona was long gone, black hair trailing as she ran. As she fled, odd and unusual questions entered her mind. Why do I feel no remorse? Was that going too far? Do I have enough normalcy to call him help? She smiled as clouds covered the sun and it began to drizzle, water sliding down her white skin. Far away, in the field of flowers, the rain streaked the white tulips with red. A red so crimson it looked like blood. *