Having a short life line doesn't mean that you'll have a short life. That was all he remembered her telling him about palm reading. When he awoke, in the field, surrounded on all sides by tall grass, covered by a sky of desolate grey, this was the first thought that crossed his mind. All sensation had ceased in his body. A kind of numbness from being out in the cold so long that one no longer feels the chill. An eerie sense that he'd been left out there washed over him. He didn't remember the last interaction he'd had. In fact he couldn't remember much of anything except her. Her dark hair, draping over her delicate shoulders, curling down her arms. The sunlight cascading in from the window behind her, creating a halo around her frame. The touch of her hand over his on the maple wood dining table when reading his palms, a combination of gentle and predatory. He felt a mix of emotions when he thought of her. Fear, guilt, and adoration. She was his only memory and yet he didn't quite trust this companion.

The grey clouds were growing dark and heavy. The longer he gazed up the more he felt the pull of reality, the ache of his body against the frozen ground bringing him back. He needed to get up. He needed to go....home. He felt an urgency for some sense of safety, a reset. But anxiety crept up on him as he realized he had no idea where it was that he wanted to return to. He started to lift himself upward but stopped as he felt his whole body seize in pain and was gripped by nausea. Each muscle in his body felt bruised and strained. Panic flooded through him. There was something deeply wrong with him. Beyond the physical pain and the confusion was an undercurrent that something sinister had just transpired. It led back to her. Was she the reason he was out here? Or was she just a displaced memory?

The intense pounding and pressure beginning in his head interfered with clear thoughts yet he couldn't help feeling like he needed to know what had happened. He tried turning his body, wincing in pain, as he searched his surroundings for clues. He saw no visible blood or cuts on his body but his vision was becoming distorted from a growing migraine. Perhaps whatever injury had occurred was internal.

He tried turning onto his side, ignoring the searing pain in his ribs, he began to crawl into the tall grass. If he could get enough momentum, maybe he could get to his feet. If he could walk or run maybe he could find some sort of building. Some refuge from the brutal wind and the approaching storm clouds.

The wet grass slashed against his face and he felt a flash of something. Nostalgia. Cold water beating down against his skin. Her emerging from a curtain of flowing water. A shower? A waterfall? She was suddenly close to him, the gentle tiptoe of her fingers against his skin. Her lips parting to reveal a line of perfectly white teeth. Her smile. He felt a cold shiver run through him.

He was in the grass again. Colder and wetter than before. Claustrophobic under the cover of grass, he strained with all effort to get to his feet. The pain rippled through his body but he stood and weakly began to limp forward. Open dirt road stretched out before him, in the far distance lay the desert sand dunes and bluffs. Perhaps behind them lay civilization. The sky was now a deep charcoal and at any moment the heavy downpour would begin. That's how it always was. Still and then suddenly everything at once.

He limped out onto the road, scanning for signs of life, trying to distract himself from his own form. He didn't want to know the extent of his injuries until he was in a place where he could do something about it. As he walked he tried to distract himself with some concrete thought.

Who was she? Why was he so afraid? There was something else there too. A tenderness. A softness towards her. An unnerving sense that the home he was searching to return to might somehow be intertwined with her.

The rain began, except instead of gentle droplets, sharp clumps of hail began to fall.

She had called them a kiss from the sky.

Prentious and poetic. A memory of her out in the storm. Hurriedly pulling clothes from the line. Carrying the basket, as the screen door snapped shut behind her. The pattering of hail on the skylight. The hinge of the wood stove door creaking as he opened it. The crackle of the fire. Lying side by side on the warm wooden floor, hands intertwined. Her face silhouetted by the glow.

Staggering against the now muddy road, drenched and pelted from the hailstorm, his eyes blurry, a dark structure appeared in the distance. He felt dazed and ready for collapse but if he could just make it inside he could rest. He could rest with that memory of her. Perhaps she wasn't danger. Perhaps she was safety. Perhaps he was just confused and disoriented.

Slipping against the mud, he began to lose his balance but righted himself. He could make it with his last bit of energy.

The structure was a shack of some kind. Maybe an old abandoned rest stop. He felt a kinship with its sunken and decrepit frame. As he grew close he saw that the door was covered over by some loose boards. He hesitated for a moment. Perhaps there was a reason he shouldn't enter. But the overwhelming pain he'd been trying desperately to ignore overruled any hesitation. Drenched and exhausted, he ripped at the loose boarding and it easily gave way. With effort he pushed open the door.

Inside was cavernous. Hollow and dark. The lack of sound and light felt almost colder and more inhospitable than the outside storm. A Memory of her in the dark. A power outage. They had strewn blankets over the maple wood dining table and chairs to make a fort, lit candles and crawled underneath. It was like being a child again. The glow of the candles against her face. Just like the mist of the shower made her seem almost magical.

He would return to her after his rest. His memory would recover and he would be able to find his way home. It would all be a bad dream. Perhaps he was actually dreaming and he would wake up by that warm fire. She would be there reading his palms.

Despite the pain, knowing he was returning to her, he was content to rest now but needed to make sure he was safe. He felt around for some sort of light. He doubted any electricity remained but it didn't hurt to try. Along the side of the wall he felt a switch and flipped it.

Florescent light beemed onto the stained ashen walls and a heavy buzz began. To his right he saw a large pickaxe.

Pain rippled through him again. Those delicate shoulders clenched between his hands. Her eyes large and luminous pleading with him. Something wild and inhuman taking over him. Her head slammed against the edge of the maple wood dining table. A cracking over and over against an unyielding surface, then brittle and shattered in his hands. Dark hair drenched in an even darker liquid. The once soft, gentle skin covered in pulpy disfigured flesh and tissue. Fire crackling in the background. A pale hand, limp against the wooden floor.

A short life line.

He threw up onto the floor of the shack. Horrified and unable to fully comprehend the memory. He felt dizzy and dissociated from his body, heartbroken and revolted at the same time. His mouth was dry and he felt the urge to throw up again. Across the room was a sink. He limped over to it and sipped the cold murky water from the spout. He began to sob into the shallow basin. How could he have done this? Why did he do this? He must have missed something. He had to have. But even if he did. Even if she had done something to horrible to him, what could excuse this?

Their life was coming back to him in pieces. He hadn't been perfect and neither had she. But there was love despite the difficulty of simply existing. She had made it easier. He couldn't remember a single thing she had done to trigger such a horrific end. He felt haunted by her.

He lifted his head up to the dirty mirror above the sink and brushed away some of the dirt to inspect himself but when he looked up he was stunned by what he saw. Long dark hair draping over delicate shoulders, a line of white teeth and a palm with a short life line.

~ This story is open to feedback! I just forgot to choose that option when submitting it but feedback is welcome!