The Last Appeal

In a day or two that passed like a breath, Laura sat on the lone bench, a quiet watcher of the dawn's first light. The world was still dark and hidden, a black riddle waiting for the sun. And she wrote to Ann, her words flowing on the paper in a strange and lively dance of ink.

And the letter told of her longing, a deep wish that sounded in every word and every mark of her pen. It was a mute cry, a call over the distance that kept them apart.

But under this longing was a story of sorrow. She wrote of Chris, his life drained, his soul chained to a body that was only a shade of his former self and perhaps cut down to a pitiful state, a harsh proof of the malady that ate him away.

And in her words was a dark foretelling - the ghost of loss that hung over them. It was a silent dread, a chance that Chris would be gone and leave only a trace in their heart.

Unbeknownst to her, Ann had already been the recipient of another missive, one penned by Chris himself. This was no ordinary letter; it was a testament to his existence, a confession of his deepest secrets.

It spoke of his battle with illness, a fight he was losing. It confessed his love for Amelia, a love that was as profound as it was unspoken. And it expressed his final wish - to see Amelia one last time.

This letter, written in the face of mortality, was a poignant echo of his dying breath. It was a letter that held within its lines the essence of Chris's life and love.

It told of his struggle with malady, a combat he was forfeiting. It avowed his love for Amelia, a love that was as deep as it was silent. And it uttered his ultimate desire - to behold Amelia one final time.

This letter, written in the face of doom, was a touching resonance of his expiring breath. It was a letter that enclosed within its lines the quintessence of Chris's life and love.

"Time, in its relentless march, had etched a few more days into the annals of eternity. It was during this inexorable progression that Ann found herself confronted with another letter.

The words it contained bore the weight of Chris's trials, and they struck her with a force that made her heart flutter in her chest.

And perhaps realization dawned on her then, as clear as the morning sun breaking through a night of stormy darkness. The price of her deception was now apparent to her, and it was a cost she found too steep to bear.

A longing seized her then, a desperate yearning to rewind the hands of time and rewrite history. but visions,  steeds not for her to ride.  - and she found herself bereft of such equine luxuries. Her gaze lingered on the letter one last time, drinking in the words that had so profoundly shaken her world.

The night sank into darkness and Chris lay on his bed, watching a moth outside. It fluttered around the harsh lamp, drawn by a false love that burned and blinded it. It wasted its life in a vain dance, never knowing the lamp's cold indifference. Its wing drooped, ready to fall and die. 

But as he kept his watch with a weak grin on his face, Laura came to him, her face a beam glowing maybe to tell of Ann's coming.

  Now he dragged his wasted body out and took a deep breath before he began to stumble off the room.

He staggered into their room in the fading light, a ghost of a man with a pale face. He dragged himself to the nearest chair and collapsed. A fit of coughing shook him, then he cleared his throat and spoke in a faint voice:

"Mother," he whispered, clutching her hand. "This may be the last time you hear my voice, for I am close to the brim of doom.

"But there is one thing that torments me before I depart: the wish to see the face of the one I love, even if she doesn't know I exist."

She is my soul, my passion, my woe. She fills my mind, my heart, my pain. And though I have no hope of winning her love or even her pity,

I beg you, Mother, to take me to her. Let me have the honor of seeing her just once more."

His words died away as he fell silent and the room grew still. Everyone looked at him; they saw the fire in his eyes that burned him like madness.

Garissa recoiled from his words as if they were a slap. What did he mean by that? She searched Laura and Ann's faces for some clues, but they gave her none. They shared the terrible secret that he had hinted at.

Ann, more than anyone, seemed guilty. She turned away from Garissa's gaze, as if ashamed of her role in the scheme. She pretended to be interested in the fire, but Garissa saw through her lie.

No one said anything. Garissa waited for someone to say something, to tell her what was happening. But no one did. The only thing she heard was the clock ticking, counting the time  perhaps until something bad happened.

The night was dying when Ann looked at Chris. Then she looked at Garissa and Kimmel and perhaps she made up her mind to save him and said,

"Maybe I know her."

Ann's words hung in the air, a beacon of hope in the gloom.

"I... I might be able to help," she added, her voice barely above a whisper.

She looked at Chris, her eyes filled with determination. "I'll do my best to fulfill your wish, Chris." She then turned to Garissa and Kimmel,

"We need to prepare for a journey."

The room was silent, save for the ticking of the clock and the soft rustle of hope stirring in their hearts.