a continuation of 'Red and White Flashing'

Waking with a scream, soaking in the sweat only terror can create, Azerax's outsteached hands involuntarily grip the sheets. 'Unfamiliar', the only thought to form in his head.

'You are in Philly' the voice says.

Azerax forces his grip to relax and looks to the night table to his right, the small white carnation floating in a glass is talking to him.

'Oh' he replies as his body surrenders to the bed once more, nothing but darkness awaits him this time.

No dreams, no sounds, an unusual gift lately, a few hours pass and morning comes. Azerax opens his eyes and for an one instance of a second there is nothing wrong, his brain is not awake enough to remember. Only for an instance.

Piercing pain electrifies Azerax's teeth, his throat explodes with rage as the sorrow returns to destroy him once again.

'I left her there' whispers Azerax, accusing himself.

'Yes you did' says the carnation. 'You must find who did this.'

Head in hands Azerax sits up and struggles to remember which moment this is. No hunter green chair, no rain, no red and white flashing.

'This is a new moment?' asks Azerax

'Yes' says the voice sitting beside him, the hunter green chair suddenly under him again.

'Yes' says the carnation, 'Leave that moment, you belong in this one'

with closed eyes Azerax stands up focusing on the cold hardwood floor against his bare feet. This moment, right now. This is where I am. Walking to the bedroom window Azerax stares out into Philly, each breathe deliberate, contrived, forced.

'I answered that question already, I left her there'.

My reason for breathing, chestnut brown hair, my reason for living, in a puddle.

'You found me in a puddle' reminds the carnation

'She's wearing that carnation'

'Not anymore'

Defeated, Azerax turns his back on the world outside and walks into the living room, realising that the sun was setting. Stopping to turn the barn-wood kitchen island upright Azerax feels broken glass bite into his bare feet. A small step backwards, blood on the floor.

Rain, icy rain dripping from his felt brimmed hat, looking down on his reason for breathing laying in a puddle.

'I can't leave her there. My reason for living, I can't leave her there', the icy rain soaks through Azerax's jacket, his shoulders wet.

'Tonight you must' replies the officer.

'You are in the wrong moment' replies the carnation.

'Wait!' screams Azerax, throwing the flower to the ground while wondering if he had carried it from the bedroom.

A shadow, a slight shadow hugging the brick wall and steel rusted railings in the alley, the back exit of the show, sprinting away....something had happend. A puddle, a scream, a carnation falling. Flashing lights, red and white. Rain, wet shoulders. The shadow trips, looks backwards.

'Red' says the carnation tearing Azerax from that moment.

'I almost saw his face', Azerax chokes, his anguish speaking, so close to seeing the face.

'Red'

'Red?' back to this moment Azerax looks down at the carnation, tears streaming down its face.

'Why are you crying?'

'I want to be red' replies the carnation as Azerax scoops it up with two hands.

'How?'

'She will help you', the white carnation was smiling again.

'Who..' Azerax felt the embroidered LBS under his left thumb, sitting in a hunter green chair he was watching the show, someone sitting beside him asking questions.

'Pardon?'

'Your shoes, Azerax, they are not ruined.' says the woman sitting beside them.

Staring at her for a moment, her face, for the first time, registering, but it was not the face he had left there. This was a moment in between, and this was the woman who had welcomed him to Philly.

'Please accept my apologies, I have troubles with moments.' Azerax says as he turns from her and inspects his shoes.

'I thought you seemed distracted' she says.

'Lost.' he says, the last words as the moment changes

'She will help you' reminds the white carnation

Once again the full moon floods the condo with light, once again the curtains shimmer in the summer breeze as Azerax sits in a hunter green chair, the carnation resting delicately on his lap.

'Is that better?' asks Azerax, watching the blood from his hand bathe the now half red carnation.

'Yes, thank you'

Azerax smiles, once again for an instance something happy was occuring.

'But this is the wrong red'

And the instance was over. 'Which?'

'The one that did this' says the carnation, laying in a puddle, cold rain pouring from a felt brimmed hat. Laying there, laying in a puddle with red and white flashing, his reason for breathing, her chestnut hair, all laying in a puddle, soaking in her own blood.

Soaking in the sweat only terror can create, Azerax's outsteached hands involuntarily grip the sheets. 'Unfamiliar', the only thought to form in his head.

'No' Azerax thinks

Looking to his right, to the soaked carnation floating in a glass of blood, 'I will find him for you. I will start right now. I will make you red forever.'

Arsenal listens to the continuation of a touching tale.. Speechless.. And eager to hear part three he waits and applauds..

wow :)

Exactly John - words other then that almost escape me as with the first part, this man has the abilities to draw your attention, keep it - stir up emotions and make you want to know more with his writings.  You have done it to me again Azeraxtwo.  Salut

Those are good writings, Keep them coming