You can't build Love

by Gray Compass

Principio in Finem

You can't build Love

Sitting on the floor I gaze into the looking glass; there is she, looking back to me.

Ever so slowly I extend my arm, my hand almost touching the mirror's surface, she does the same. That thin reflective membrane setting the worlds apart. And there we stood, so close, yet so far.

I felt as if I was lost in a desert, a single glass of water right next to me, and still, being unable to reach it. Unable to quench my thirst.

Inside her deep violet eyes I see nothing; always so mysterious, indecipherable — unreachable.

"Fleur?" I ask. A soft breeze caress my hair, bringing with it a single leaf on the wind.

I look around, noticing I had never been in such a room before; a circular chamber empty except by the mirror, curiously placed at the center of it. From the wide opened windows comes a torrent of leaves. I cover my face and blink.

Opening my eyes again I find myself on a very different place; there are no walls surrounding me anymore, just old ruins worn by the time, bleached by the sun, and the once green and luxuriant leaves, are now dry and brownish, like a residue of a distant autumn.

Yet, the mirror remains there, dusty, but nonetheless... There.

She was there too.

"Fleur... What's happening?" I ask, seeing that her coat and mane are no longer vivid and cared, she's almost a specter now, monochromatic and vanishing.

"No! Fleur, I can h-help, let me get you out of here!" I lean over the mirror's frame, trying to find something, a lock, a handle, something, anything!

"Fleur... Please don't." She weakly smiled, and with the wind, faded away.

I threw myself towards her, but the cold glass won't ever allow me to reach my beloved one. "No!" I shout, punching the mirror with my bare fists. It tears apart; small shards of reflection shattering on the ground.

She was gone.

I stood up quickly, startled, almost jumping from the bed. The dream vanishing away. I felt my heart pounding erratically inside my chest, like a claustrophobic man locked in a cage. A cold sweat drenched my body, that sort of cold sweat that feels weird against your skin.

I sighed and leaned back on the pillows, peering through the blinds of a large window by my side; it rained. A pale sun rising slowly and lazily at the horizon. There is still haze covering the gardens, beautiful in their serenity.

Here comes another day.

---

Six in the morning, I lay awake over my warm mattress staring at the patterns of the ceiling. I could sleep no more after that nightmare. My room was now half lit by the few sunbeams who managed to escape from the grayish layer of clouds. The fireplace is darkened, it had been like that for days, no one cleaned the ashes, no one brought more firewood. There's still a hint of burnt wood in the air, the scent pleased me.

I stood up; couldn't stay there anymore. No mood for sleeping or eating, I'm not a morning person anyway. I'd rather have some fresh air around the gardens, still rained a little, but I don't mind.

I've always loved rain; the sound, the smell of wet soil, its cold touch on my skin. Rain therapy. I'd sit there on the grass, on my white morning robe, moist locks of hair fell over my face, fresh scents filled my nostrils. I breathed in, closed my eyes, exhaled — all my worries to the wind.

A faint beep comes from my wrist, my watch flashes, drawing my attention to something. I looked to its round screen and noticed the reason; "05/28/1997 - 05/28/2024 — Congratulations Albert! It's your 27th birthday."

Time flies away quickly. I think to myself.

After a long time allowing my body to be drenched by the rain, I stood up and walked to my favorite rock; the one stumbled along the road. The sun appeared shyly behind the clouds, the drizzle had ceased for a while, and I could spend some time there.

Resting on my back upon the stone, I noticed a feeling that for a long time I suppressed. Loneliness.

It wasn't the fatal sort of loneliness, but the mild one that erodes you through the years, just like a river that carves a canyon into the rock. It's hard to notice the process of erosion, but easy to see the results. And how deep are those canyons, only god knows.

I could have thought about many people to be right there with me, laying by my side, dripping from the same rain, but in the end, I knew that only one could make me happy. And it was her after all.

My little pony.

---

I was starting to freeze out there, my robe was heavy with water — I was sure I could fill an entire bucket if I happened to squeeze it — and the last thing I wanted, was a cold. I had my shares of colds when I was little. I returned to the castle, leaving a trail of water behind me. I felt really sorry for the housemaid who'd find that, but I just wanted to dive in my hot tub as fast as possible.

I was starting to get peckish, and thirsty for a good and warming coffee. After my relaxing bath I went to the kitchen; one of the downsides of living in a place like that is that a simple visit to the fridge becomes a travel to the fridge.

Halfway there, was a special room; my library. Normally I would spend hours in there, but not today. On that library we had an oddly large fireplace, from the times the room was used not as a library, but as a dinning room. But what bothered me wasn't the fireplace itself, but what stood above it: A statuette, made of pure white marble, mane and tail sculpted on a pale pinkish petalite stone, two rare violet diamonds for her eyes; It was a true masterpiece.

'The Unreachable Light' I named it. When the sun, or any kind of light source reached those cold diamond eyes, a wonderful fire seemed to ignite inside it, a magnificent shimmer, trapped behind the translucent stones.

For the first time in my life, I passed by the statuette without giving it a single glimpse — no — not a single one. For now it just brings me more pain.

---

Hot, divine coffee runs down my throat. I sigh, satisfied. The thunder roared in the skies again, outside the rain joined forces with the wind, those strong gusts shaking the glass panes, like an angry ghost afraid to get wet.

Resting my mug over the counter, I open the newspaper. It's a funny name for something that isn't even made of paper anymore, but rather, a projection inside my omni-screen. It unfolds like the real thing, and even feels like the old journals. But we know it's not really there.

Running my fingers on its surface, I select the international news section.

"Tensions rise on Eurasian Union" Say the headlines. A large picture of Vladimir Putin meeting a couple of bland-looking officials. And right next to it, a huge protest taking place over the streets of Moscow.

Well, nothing I did not expected, given the circumstances. I just shook my head and ignored it.

Through the pages I see nothing but uninteresting and blatantly stupid news; someone climbed a skyscraper, false bomb alert in an airport of New York, activists are camping in front of my company headquarters — I don't really mind them. It's not my fault what's been happening.

This was the 'future' they said years ago, I can't deny, there were plenty of advances. But life keeps going on as ever, the same problems, the same silly dreams 'Nasa wants to launch a manned mission to Mars in five years', yeah... I hear this since I was five.

When I was about to close the screen, the coffee mug halfway to my lips, my eyes darted to a small note almost unnoticeable.

"The Japanese physician and genetic engineer, Tadashi Nagai, received green light to start the first organs and limbs production company; after more than three decades of research, and over fifty million dollars spent, Nagai and his crew are now 'Fully capable of producing any organic parts needed, with only a single sample of stem cells' as himself states."

'If they can do this with fifty millions- what could they do with fifty billions?' I thought casually.

The mug shattered on the ground. Something in my mind just ignited, right there, on my kitchen stool. I glanced the hallway by my side; the library entrance at the end of it, and of course; the statuette, which now sparkled underneath the tenuous sun rays coming from the windows.

I got my omni-screen and left, shards of porcelain and coffee splattered on the floor. Not giving a damn about it, I had a single priority:

Contact a certain Japanese doctor.

Author's Note:

Comments

[spetsnaz pinkie pie]

Ready for more good sir.

[Agri_Yob]

3906280
It's a damn shame I'll never finish my Fleur x human story.

[Gray Compass]

3977027 For sure it is, your story was great...

[Agri_Yob]

3977207
You read it? You have my deepest sympathies.

[Gray Compass]

3977224 Yep, every single chapter of it. I read almost every story related to Fleur, but yours was really exceptional. I still think you should work on it

You're a great writer in my opinion.

[Gazpacho]

3977224 Why can't you finish it?

[Gazpacho]

Oh dear. Is he going to make a Fleur copy in real life? Not good...

[Gray Compass]

3978729 Wanna know an interesting fact? This story is just a prologue to something real big coming in the future...

[Gazpacho]

3978946 YESH! MOAR STORIES!