William and Charlotte stroll leisurely through the valley, taking many breaks and simply admiring the variety of flowers, small creatures, and the gorgeous rainbows above them which never seem to be in short supply. They left for the viewing room so quickly that she didn’t get a good look around. She has never seen such a beautiful place and wants to take all of it in before she has to leave. Her guide follows behind her, allowing her to absorb everything, quietly watching and relaxing as she stops to investigate every captivating flower cluster or butterfly as it passes.
The activity calms the woman down and she reluctantly admits they should probably go back to his tree.
“We don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to go, you know,” William says. “There is a gorgeous temple a little ways up I can show you.”
“A temple? Won’t someone be there?”
“I doubt it. Many people grow content with their own worlds and do not come to the valley often.” He sounds sad as he says it.
“Well, we might as well go,” she says with a smile, thinking perhaps the skeleton is lonely. She hasn’t seen any other skeletons or people in the valley, after all.
William moves to take the lead before he turns and cants his head at the woman with him. He offers his bony hand and she screws up her face instinctively in return before she rethinks and reaches out for him. It isn’t as if they are strangers, they have spent the last hundred years or so together, she thinks. She isn’t afraid or worried about this skeleton anymore. So she takes his hand and allows him to lead her to this ruined temple.
The duo climb out of the valley with ease. There is no need for fatigue or exertion in this place. As she holds his skeletal hand and walks up the slope, she remembers that William is not simply a skeleton. He was once a person, she thinks. Surely he must have had a family, a lover, friends he cared about, so why is he helping her?
“William,” she says as they crest the hill and start for what looks like a grove of trees boasting pink flowers and minimal leaves. “Don’t you have people you want to see? Loved ones, friends, a pet, anyone?”
The skull turns and Charlotte realizes he’s looking over his shoulder at her. “No,” he answers pleasantly. “Do you?”
“I, um.” Color warms Charlotte’s face at the quiet realization that she could have been visiting relatives, near and far, or seen if one of her dogs was around. Instead she has spent all of her time with her skeleton guide and the disembodied voice of Vuru. She lets out an indignant huff as she thinks it was preferable to stay with her guide than to get her hopes up on seeing anyone she might have known who has passed, yet that isn’t quite the case. She has enjoyed her time with William, grown accustomed to the skeleton, and does not fear a single thing about him. Instead she saw his sincerity, his quiet happiness, and chose to not stop their adventures of the world and beyond when they could have ended at any time. Even now, they are searching for a temple just beyond the valley because it will mean spending more time together.
“I like spending my time with you,” she says reluctantly, almost unwilling to admit her fondness for the animated skeleton.
“What a coincidence,” he replies in that cheerful tone, “I am also enjoying our time together.”
They walk the path between the trees until the grove thins out into nothing. A small sandy trail leads up to the remnants of a marble temple, its broken pillars standing at various heights due to the curses of age and time. Vines grow lazily over the marble, half reclaiming the stone, half enhancing the beauty of its demise. The structure sits upon a cliff overlooking some of the valley, built too close to the edge to be sensible, yet far enough back that one can miss it entirely from below.
“It’s beautiful,” Charlotte says as she starts to stroll through the ancient ruins of a place which never existed, her hand slowly slipping from his bones. “Why is it here?”
“I believe there were people who liked to gather here at one point and built it,” he says in a soft tone. “As their interests traveled elsewhere, so did they. It’s all but forgotten now, except by one or two who recall it, and those who stumble over it accidentally.”
She sits between two pillars at the base of the temple, letting her feet dangle as she looks out over the valley. Rainbows form at the higher altitude, clouds traipse lazily by, and the calm she felt when she first arrived returns as a smile forms, unbeknownst to her.
“Have you ever danced in the temple, William,” she asks with a sudden grin, feeling almost impish.
“What? No, of course not. Why would I?”
“Then, care to dance?” She draws herself out of her seated position and almost bounces towards him with that innocently excited grin.
“I’m not dressed for it,” he responds in an embarrassed, self-conscious way, turning his skull away from the happy woman.
“Neither am I,” she beams.
“We can change that, if you’d like.” He produces his leather-bound book once more and thumbs through the wrinkled pages. A single finger bone trails down a list before he shows her what he’s looking at. She peers curiously at the dress before she laughs.
“I, I can’t wear that!”
“Why not? I think it will look quite fetching on you, and it fits thematically.”
Charlotte stares at the rich peacock blue dress, how it exposes the arms, the Greek or Roman inspiration of design, and the hems all edged with gold embroidery. The way the layers are done seem to present a hidden belt and top layer of material over the main skirt. She runs her fingers gently over the page. “It will look dreadful on me,” she says confidently.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“You think? Perhaps you should look in the mirror,” he gently encourages her.
With a startled frown and a glance at her feet, expecting to see her shorts and bare legs, she instead sees the golden embroidery on the rich blue-green fabric. She turns and spies a mirror tucked into a corner, positive it had not been there until that moment, and slowly she approaches it. Staring back at her is a woman with brunette hair curled and piled atop her head, wearing a dress fit for an ancient princess. She spins slowly and marvels at how the material flows out around her sandal-clad feet, not realizing she’s smiling until she looks at her face once more. Glancing at William, she tilts her head curiously at him.
“What is it,” he asks nervously, already having an idea of what she will say.
“You should dress nicer for a dance,” she says.
“I like my robe,” he mutters defiantly.
“Alright. How about a robe that isn’t falling apart, where I can see your ribs showing through?”
“Ah, I suppose I could do that,” he admits, finding the page he’s looking for. Charlotte watches as he touches the garb drawn into the book. As he does, his robe starts to knit itself back to one full piece. A cowl forms with pointed ends, ending at the bottom of his wide rib cage. A simple braided belt catches on his pelvic bone near the hip and he sighs as he looks down at himself. “Too fancy,” he mutters.
“It looks really nice,” she says with surprise.
“Does it really?” He straightens up as much as he can, clearing his throat before he offers his companion a skeletal hand. “Care to dance, my dear?”
With a dazzling smile, she takes his hand and places her unoccupied fingers upon his shoulder, feeling his free hand slide just above her hip. As if the temple is alive and recognizes people are dancing within it, music comes from an unseen piano and violin to accompany the pair as they spin about the abandoned structure, laughing softly and simply enjoying the feel of moving with the rhythm.
As their dancing continues, Charlotte starts to feel dizzy. She slows down the dance as she tries to steady herself. She squeezes William’s hand and takes a half step closer to him, resting her forehead upon the section of robe which covers his sternum. Sensing the shift in her mood, he guides their joined hands to his shoulder so that she may lean on him, while he embraces her gently and simply rocks leisurely back and forth in place.
“Will I be able to see you after I die?”
“If you choose to, however I may have a new guest to watch over,” he admits. “Most people do not return to the valley after they truly die.”
“I’ve had so much fun with you,” she whispers, almost to herself.
“As have I,” he murmurs as he tucks his jaw against her hair. “More than I thought I ever would.”
“I, I could just stay here,” she says with a tentative hopefulness, peering up at him. “I could stay here with you, right? And never go back?”
She can almost feel his sad smile as he looks down at her, regardless of the fact the skull cannot change its expression. He raises a hand and cups her cheek, brushing his bony thumb just under her eye. “You know that isn’t how this works. You’re going back, Charlotte.”
“When?” Panic laces her voice as she clings to William’s robe. She knows the answer though, her unsteadiness being a silent warning of what is to come.
“Right now, I’m afraid,” he says. His grip is firmly around her waist and he holds her close, about to say something else, but he is cut off by her sudden movement.
Charlotte reaches up and grabs the cowl’s material, almost desperate to convey her feelings she hasn't had time to properl. She draws the skeleton close and kisses his teeth. It is a rough, awkward thing, for lips to meet bone, especially when her teeth crack against his from the attempted display of affection. William is startled at first, yet slowly he relaxes and tries to return the embrace. His fingers slip to the nape of her neck, curling gently at her hair, and he holds her close to his form, the thick robe offering some softness in place of his bare bones. Her lips part briefly and she flits her tongue over his teeth, and he responds by nipping at the muscle before he draws away.
“I’m sorry,” he hastily apologizes, uncertain if he should have reciprocated the attention. “I, I shouldn’t, um. You have to go, now.”
“I’ll come see you again,” Charlotte promises, gripping onto him as if that will somehow keep her from waking up.
William leans down and brushes the bone of his jaw over her ear, whispering in that deep baritone, “I hope so, my dear.”
. . . . .
A steady electronic beep rouses Charlotte out of her sleep. She feels exhausted, fatigued, drained of all energy, and she hurts all over. Her muscles scream and there is distinct pain trailing along her left leg and hip. There’s a monitor next to her with her pulse, body temperature, and blood pressure displayed in real time. She looks down at her legs and sees plain white sheets. Shifting in the hospital bed, she hears the plastic wrapping on the mattress move beneath her.
A brown haired girl sits in a chair next to her, playing on her phone. When she hears the movement from the bed, she looks up and lets out a soft cry of alarm when she sees her sister staring at her. “Charlotte!”
In a weak, raspy voice, she murmurs, “Grace?”
“Yes! Yes it’s me. Hold on, let me get you some water.”
Grace soon calls their parents and has them come back to the hospital; all they could do was worry at home. Over the next hour Grace tells Charlotte about what happened to her. She had been hit by a car that lost control two weeks prior, and after her surgery, she fell into a coma. No one was certain whether she would make it or not, but her parents didn’t want to make the call due to her being a healthy twenty-four year old. It had not been long enough for them to lose hope and let her go.
There are many tears, hugs, proclamations of adoration and love throughout the day. Charlotte smiles the whole time, even though it makes her face hurt after a while. The doctor visits multiple times to take a look at the patient and declares that evening that she should be well enough to go home in a few days, after they do some final tests for any paralysis or other unseen problems.
Charlotte’s parents drive them home when she is finally discharged. Grace leans against her sister’s shoulder and holds her hand in the back of the car. She had been so worried she would lose her older sister and spent most of her time at the hospital, keeping watch while her parents had the arduous tasks of dealing with the insurance company, the doctors, and trying to decide how long they should wait for their daughter to wake up.
“So how was your sleep,” the brown haired girl asks in a sleepy, teasing voice, trying to not smile at what she thinks is a clever joke.
“It was...” Charlotte thinks for a long time, smiling as she recalls exploring unreal places with a disembodied voice and a strange man, dancing in a forgotten grove with pink trees and an old building, someone whispering that they hope to see her again, and the feel of a kiss too unique to be real. “It was nice.”
That night, after she has gotten settled into her bed, she stares up at the ceiling in the darkened room and murmurs to herself, “I want to go back to that place.” She cannot recall all of it, honestly she can’t recall most of it, but the feeling of happiness, of peacefulness, and the desire to see someone is strong.
Slowly her eyelids start to droop, her breathing grows heavy, and she gives up the fight of trying to stay awake any longer, thinking of a place she cannot exactly remember.
. . . . .
A skeleton garbed in a tattered black robe sits beneath a tree, reading an old, worn leather-bound book with stained yellow pages. He hears something and looks up, wondering who has arrived in the valley this time, but sees nothing. A familiar voice whispers happily next to his skull, full of mirth and excitement, hopefulness and happiness.
“Care for a dance, William?”