snape/lily; 1, 2, 3
1, 2, 3
..........|harry potter; snape/lily; pg; Three senses
SIGHT.
Broken tree branches lean over you as the cold wind stings you face, eyes watering, heart twisting and turning and bleeding.
Your vision blurs, and for one split second you're engulfed in water, floating, falling, arms flailing, head spinning. It's like gravity gave up, threw in the towel, emptied it's closet of all the skeletons you hid in there when you were young (if you ever were).
She was always young, you think. She never got to be old.
The first sense you get back is sight, and you get one quick glimpse of auburn hair before she swings too high and the glare of the sun blocks her out.
You never see her again.
SOUND.
You can hear the birds chirping, ca-cawing, honking. She's laughing, because she's always laughing, because she's having a good time, because you just tripped on a tree root and she saw you fall.
Your face flushes red but it's okay, it's alright, her laughing at you doesn't bother, irritate you, it's okay, because she's laughing, because you get to hear it.
Sound is the second sense that comes back to you, and you hear her giggle one time before the gun beside your head goes off, piercing the little ear drum you know lies in your head.
You never hear her again.
TOUCH.
The grass feels itchy, tingling between your toes, between your fingers, between her fingers because in that instant, with the sun in your eyes and in her hair, you can feel her pulse, her will, her.
You feel it when she sighs in contentment, yawns, stretches, under the big oak or maple or whatever kind of tree it is, by the lake, under the clouds. You think you like this, laying beside her on the itchy grass, alone. Just the two of you.
Touch is the third sense you get back, but then your skin tints pink and darn it, you forgot to put on sunblock this morning, and all of a sudden your nerves are too burned from the light that you can't feel her sigh, yawn, stretch.
You never feel her again, either.
..........|harry potter; snape/lily; pg; Three senses
SIGHT.
Broken tree branches lean over you as the cold wind stings you face, eyes watering, heart twisting and turning and bleeding.
Your vision blurs, and for one split second you're engulfed in water, floating, falling, arms flailing, head spinning. It's like gravity gave up, threw in the towel, emptied it's closet of all the skeletons you hid in there when you were young (if you ever were).
She was always young, you think. She never got to be old.
The first sense you get back is sight, and you get one quick glimpse of auburn hair before she swings too high and the glare of the sun blocks her out.
You never see her again.
SOUND.
You can hear the birds chirping, ca-cawing, honking. She's laughing, because she's always laughing, because she's having a good time, because you just tripped on a tree root and she saw you fall.
Your face flushes red but it's okay, it's alright, her laughing at you doesn't bother, irritate you, it's okay, because she's laughing, because you get to hear it.
Sound is the second sense that comes back to you, and you hear her giggle one time before the gun beside your head goes off, piercing the little ear drum you know lies in your head.
You never hear her again.
TOUCH.
The grass feels itchy, tingling between your toes, between your fingers, between her fingers because in that instant, with the sun in your eyes and in her hair, you can feel her pulse, her will, her.
You feel it when she sighs in contentment, yawns, stretches, under the big oak or maple or whatever kind of tree it is, by the lake, under the clouds. You think you like this, laying beside her on the itchy grass, alone. Just the two of you.
Touch is the third sense you get back, but then your skin tints pink and darn it, you forgot to put on sunblock this morning, and all of a sudden your nerves are too burned from the light that you can't feel her sigh, yawn, stretch.
You never feel her again, either.