Tell My Love the Secret
Jul. 20th, 2009 03:31 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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Title: Tell My Love the Secret
Author:
shegollum
Rating: G
Warnings: *Extreme Angst and Character Death*
Prompt(s): #9: tell my love the secret (from a poem by Sara Teasdale)
Disclaimer: Completely ficticious
Author's Note: Please heed the warning above.
He's hovered for days, tall, fair and full of strength my body no longer has. This house we've overtaken - this home turned hospital where I'll die - is full of cries, the rasp of saw against bone and the stink of dying and dead. I've fallen in this battle, shot in the shoulder, the wound ragged. Infection will come despite their measures; fevers will set in seeing as how far into my chest the ball made its mark. I'm on my way to being another Confederate dead and he is a weathered blonde angel, stalwart, calm and caring. He gently doctors my wounds - all our wounds - and he watches while I sleep, knowing that Sleep has begun its slow dance with Death. I heard his whisper once ... he told me his name and of his house upon the hill ... his face near mine and his hand holding my own. He asked my name and I cried inside and begged to speak but no words broke forth. Instead I recalled the smell of cotton and fair, clean sweat and knew again that feeling of love, pure and bright. Death will come and Love will have lost. When I'm gone tell my Love the secret.
Author:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Rating: G
Warnings: *Extreme Angst and Character Death*
Prompt(s): #9: tell my love the secret (from a poem by Sara Teasdale)
Disclaimer: Completely ficticious
Author's Note: Please heed the warning above.
He's hovered for days, tall, fair and full of strength my body no longer has. This house we've overtaken - this home turned hospital where I'll die - is full of cries, the rasp of saw against bone and the stink of dying and dead. I've fallen in this battle, shot in the shoulder, the wound ragged. Infection will come despite their measures; fevers will set in seeing as how far into my chest the ball made its mark. I'm on my way to being another Confederate dead and he is a weathered blonde angel, stalwart, calm and caring. He gently doctors my wounds - all our wounds - and he watches while I sleep, knowing that Sleep has begun its slow dance with Death. I heard his whisper once ... he told me his name and of his house upon the hill ... his face near mine and his hand holding my own. He asked my name and I cried inside and begged to speak but no words broke forth. Instead I recalled the smell of cotton and fair, clean sweat and knew again that feeling of love, pure and bright. Death will come and Love will have lost. When I'm gone tell my Love the secret.