The clock chimes had yet to strike thrice

Some thought the forest must be burning

For only flames carried on midnight breeze

Could paint the sky such a vivid colour.

The colour of blood, fresh, deep red.

By the second, more gathered to stare.

At some point, we lost our ability to speak.

Perhaps our virtuous fear had us silent

Or perhaps it was the eyes.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

They bore into us from above.

Great beacons of blinding black

Casting an ethereal spotlight on us.

For all we knew, the whole universe was watching

And many others too, there was no doubt

For no other eyes could pull ours away.

Perhaps all was frozen, for time seemed to stop.

Yet we felt years younger, scared of monsters

But she was no monster.

She was elegant, more beautiful than blooming spring.

We were flooded in light from her wide smile

The church spires were dwarfed by her teeth

Sharper than any philosopher who would doubt her beauty.

The vivid sky flickered as her ghostly wings beat

And even the devil would cower before her black talons.

But all we could see were her eyes.

All we wanted to see were her eyes

And who was on her back.

He said some things, but we knew before.

He was our saviour, and she was our blessing.

For a second, we seemed to forget that he had no face.

He was a blur, like our eyes were shaking beneath his gaze.

Every nightmare that ever plagued our minds was him.

Yet he was amazing. He was beautiful.

The sky began to swim, her smile began to widen.

His blurry outline beckoned us into his arms.

And we followed him into the end.