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If anyone survives the world's ending, I only want them to hear the truth. I know, if there is any history after this is over, she will not be remembered fondly. I cannot blame them. They didn't know her as I did.



The moment we entered the world, we were engaged, tied to one another body and soul. We grew up together on the castle grounds, exploring, laughing, getting into trouble, just as all children do. My Sara had an all-consuming love of science, and of discovering the inner machinery of the world. She would take me through the castle courtyard, and show me the delicate spider-webs covered with dew, and the lacey wings she had plucked from a great fat bumblebee. Finches would build nests in the trees, and my Sara would carefully break open their eggs to examine the stages of the chicks' development. Many people would be pained to destroy innocent life for something as apparently trivial as knowledge for its own sake, but not my Sara. She looked beyond a single, pitiful life in search of the greater whole. She wanted to find the cog that turned the whole world.

I myself was filled with admiration of her passion, and sought to help her any way I could, though I was nowhere near her genius for conjecture and deduction. I would hand her fine silver instruments during her dissections of fishes, birds, and stray felines. When she stayed up all night to record the movement of the moon and the stars, I would curl up with her on top of the castle's tallest tower, to keep her warm.

History may claim that I stayed faithfully by her side only because of a twisted sense of duty, or perhaps that she had ensorcelled me. So I shall make it perfectly clear—I did what I did only because I loved her. She was my Sara, and for her I truly would give the world.

Even blurred by my devotion to her, I can say with conviction that my Sara was indeed as beautiful as sycophantic courtiers have claimed. She was small and slender, but carried an inner light that made her seem to tower above her peers. Her chestnut hair fell with long, smooth waves down to the small of her back, little curls framing her delicate, heart-shaped face. She had all the features of those fair maidens sung about in ballads—full lips; a thin, pointed nose; high, sun-kissed cheeks; clear blue eyes with thick, dark lashes. When she walked she barely skimmed the ground, looking always as if she was dancing to some song only she knew.

She did not giggle and gossip as the other ladies did, or concern herself with fashions and balls and other petty activities she was expected to enjoy. She rarely laughed or smiled, except when she was absorbed with her work. At those times, her whole face seemed to be aglow. I decided that her smile was the single most beautiful thing in the world, and I vowed that she would wear one as often as possible.

And so our childhood passed in a whirl of joy and discovery. My Sara's parents and the lords and ladies of the castle remarked little on her uncommon interest, and even gifted her with tomes on the latest scientific observations.

But then, they were adults with other, bigger concerns than an adolescent girl. They never saw what she was capable of. Not until it was too late.

I saw it. Perhaps, even, I knew it from the very beginning. Certainly the first indication of her true potential is one of my earliest memories.

It was spring, and we were outside observing the return of the finches and sparrows from their winter homes. She watched them skim through the sky in great black clouds, her eyes alight.

Clutching my hand tightly, she observed in her soft child's voice, "I wish to be a bird."

"Yes," I agreed, "I'd love to fly, and see the whole world from the air."

"Oh, I don't know if I would care for flying. But birds, they inhabit every corner of the earth. They are free to go wherever they please, because they own it all." She smiled and leaned her little head against my shoulder, whispering, as if to herself, "Someday I will be a bird."



In the summer of our twentieth year, my Sara was coronated. We were formally wed on the following day.

One of her first actions as Queen was to order the construction of a vast, glass-domed building for her studies. It was completed in the following year, and my Sara spent nearly all her waking hours among her vials of bubbling liquids and exotic animals screeching from their cages. She left the ruling of the country in the experienced hands of her counselors and her aging parents. Few protested. Everyone who met her knew she would make a poor leader. Not compassionate enough, they said. She cares only for her research. I knew they were right. Not even I could compare to the clicking gears of the world's turning.

Years passed without incident. My Sara grew more and more absorbed in her work. I was the only living soul she told of it, as I was the only person allowed in her sanctuary of knowledge. I must admit that, despite of all my years aiding her, most of what she explained to me in soft, excited tones was beyond my grasp.

"Observe, my Will. What is the difference between these specimens?" she asked me one day on our twenty-third year. With a sweep of her fine-boned hand, she indicated two rabbits, one lying in the stiff pose of death, another weaving back and forth behind the bars of a nearby cage.

I frowned, but knew better than to ask if she were trying to trick me. "One is alive, one is dead," I said simply.

She clapped her hands together in delight. "Exactly! But can you discern any other difference? Any at all?"

Carefully, I examined one side of the dead rabbit, then the other. There were no wounds, no broken bones.

"Other than the coloration of the fur, no."

"One was gassed, the other given clean air. The gassed one has died, and though we now give it clean air, it has not returned to life."

"Well, of course not. Nothing can come back to life." I raised an eyebrow, wondering if she would refute my statement.

She waved her hand dismissingly. "Of course not. But what then is the difference between these two? What has the rabbit lost that it cannot regain, though we have returned it to its original condition? Is it some mystical element—a life, a soul, as the priests claim? Or is it something tangible, something that can be collected, measured, and examined?" She whirled to face me, her blue eyes blazing. "Don't you see? This—this difference is the key to life itself! To the workings of the world! With this comes the envy of scholars the world over—the final truth!" Her voice had risen to a shout by the time she had come to a stop, her chest heaving. Her face seemed lit from within with the exultation of discovery, of the chase. She looked beautiful. And more than a bit mad.

A year later, the nosebleeds began.

I remember the first one as if the shock and terror of it had burned its own place in my brain. The others have since blurred into a single stream of overwhelming helplessness.

We were in the side hall, eating a quiet breakfast. My Sara was discussing with the head gardener the results of cross-pollination—then a gush of blood streamed from both nostrils. She grabbed a napkin and tilted her head back, all the while assuring us that she was perfectly fine. We sat back, only a little concerned. That is, until five minutes passed, then ten, and red-stained napkins lay in piles around her plate. My Sara was rushed to the castle doctor, who could only stand by and watch, nervously wringing his hands, as the minutes ticked by and still the blood came, unrelenting.

An hour passed before it finally stopped. I know. I was counting every second of it.

My Sara dropped her hand to her side, too weak from loss of blood to even release the bloodied rag from her grasp.

"Oh my," she murmured tiredly, "It seems I've used up all the rags in the castle. Only just in time, then." My Sara closed her eyes, and slept.

When she woke the following morning, we all begged her to set her work aside and rest for a few days longer. She brushed all our pleas aside, saying, "I must go on. I'm so close, I can feel it."

The nosebleeds came again, more and more frequently, but fortunately, none were as long-lived as the first. They came at all hours of the day for five to ten minutes at a time. When they were over, my Sara would hand her dirtied rag to the nearest servant and get on with her work. She seemed little concerned by them, though the whole castle was set on edge.

It became common practice for every servant to carry a few rags with them at all times.

As the months dragged on, rumors began to fly that my Sara's strange condition was not the only thing remiss in and beyond the castle walls.

Whispers. Of children catching a simple cold and never recovering. Of every mother in the last six months giving birth to stillborn children. Of apparently perfectly healthy grandparents falling asleep and never waking up again.

There were smaller, less noticeable things. We felt tired. We ate little. The streets were quieter, all the doors and shutters closed. No one had any initiative to do anything. The smallest task was an inconvenience, a tiring waste of time.

I felt these changes within myself as well, but was a little puzzled to discover that I was not as affected as the others. My Sara, meanwhile, was the only one who seemed completely unchanged. Except for the nosebleeds.

Hysteria should have swept the streets at the sight of the steadily growing pile of dead from a mysterious illness, but, the truth was, no one had the energy to panic. It was all anyone could do but simply live. The people did manage to call a council, but few attended. They sent alchemists to examine the drinking water and stores of grain for possible contaminants. None whatsoever were detected.

Before they had even begun their search, I knew the alchemists would fail. The poison, such as it was, did not lie steeped in the bottom of wells, or crouch among the golden piles of grain. The poison hung in my Sara's glass sanctuary. And my Sara was its maker.

It was three days after Sara's first, terrible nosebleed that I found out the truth. My Sara dragged me into sanctuary, telling me over and over again, "I've found it, my Will. I've finally found it!" We stepped into the vast inner chamber, its glass ceiling making it seem as if the room rose forever into the heavens. My Sara took me to a small metal table near the center of the room. On it lay several containers of various shapes and sizes. The only similarity between them was that they were all made of a smooth white material.

My Sara picked one up with delicate care and held it up for me to examine more closely. "What do you observe, my Will?" she asked with a triumphant note in her voice.

"The vial is carved from bone. It is long and thin—the femur of a small mammal, probably." I frowned slightly and leaned in closer. "A colorless light shines from within, through the bone. It pulses, almost like…"

"A heartbeat." Her smile grew wider. "Yes, my Will, I have found it. Through the addition, production, and distillation of various chemicals, I have successfully extracted the key component that our little rabbit friend from long ago was missing. A life. A soul. In this case, that of a cat."

For a moment I was too stunned to speak. I had never imagined that my Sara would be successful—that she would be able to bottle life itself! My heart swelled with admiration, but all I managed to say after my brief silence was, "The nosebleeds. This is its cause?"

She shrugged, her smile fading a bit. "A side-effect of the distillation process, I would guess. It does involve some rather noxious chemicals." She turned her face from mine, gazing at the pulsing vial she held lovingly in her hand. "I need not tell you that I will continue my research regardless of the risks to my health. I have made one of the most ground-breaking discoveries since the motion of the planets was determined! What of my own insignificant life before the face of the heart of the world itself! Soon I will be able to hold human life in my hands, to be examined, measured, weighed, compared to other life!" She spun towards me, holding her prize aloft in exultation. "And is it not the most beautiful thing you have ever seen, my Will? Does its light not speak to your very soul?"

I realized the terrifying truth of her words. I did indeed feel a tiny tug towards the vial and the ones lying on the metal table, as if my soul wanted to fly from my body and join them. A shiver coursed through me with a premonition of what was to come. But this was what my Sara desired most in the world, and so I would give it to her. Even if my Sara asked for my own life to be bottled and weighed, I would willingly give it, in exchange for her happiness.

Of course, the first human life collected was not my own. They were prisoners scheduled to be executed for murder. This way their lives would not go entirely to waste, she assured me. Their souls were later stored inside their own skulls. My Sara explained that they would deteriorate far less quickly when they were stored in containers made of bone. "They are attracted to it, as if they still retain some bodily attachment," she told me.

When the dungeon was cleaned of prisoners slated for execution, the rumors of mysterious deaths began to whisper within the castle walls. My Sara was fascinated by this new development, and asked me to bring to her whatever I heard.

"Very interesting," she murmured when I told her of the sharp increase in stillbirths. "Unexpected, but there certainly is a logic to it. Souls, especially human souls, naturally desire to be close to one another. With such a large collection of raw, exposed souls in one area, it makes sense that some—those who cling less strongly to their lives, like the very young or very old—would be drawn towards them. Yes, yes, this is very fascinating. I wonder if this could aid in the collection process…" my Sara was sketching as she spoke. Scrawled on the chemical-stained parchment was something that looked like a peeled orange, or a ball. Or a cage.

The dead continued to pile at our doorstep. I helped my Sara collect and clean their bones, then began constructing it—a vast vessel for human souls made from human ribs, femurs, skulls. When it was completed, it was large enough in circumference that three grown men could not encircle it with their arms outstretched. The orb hung from the glass dome, looking like a macabre second sun. It even glowed with its own chilling, pulsing light.

The "collection process", as my Sara called it, was accelerated. Now those souls that had fled their sickly owners leeched by themselves into the cage of bone. Every day it glowed brighter and brighter, and the strength of its pull grew stronger and stronger.

"It has become a self-propelling machine!" she declared with glee. "Its efficiency is astounding!" I glanced down to her face, really examining it for the first time in months. Her cheeks were hollow and bony, her face pale. Even her lips had no blood. The only red on her face was the permanent stain above her upper lip, from all the nosebleeds. And yet, her blue eyes shone with an ecstasy unmatched thus far in her short life. I squeezed her thin, frail hand with my own and asked her gently, "How many do you want, my Sara?"

"I want them all. Oh, my Will, they are so beautiful, I cannot stand it." She never took her eyes off the cage shining above us like a heavenly body. "I want them all," she whispered again.

"Then you will have them," I whispered back.

I do not know how close we came to her goal. It is true, though, that within only a month nearly all the lives of the capital city were contained within my Sara's precious bone orb. I felt the pull ever more strongly now. The smallest of tasks felt enormously difficult. More than once I would awake from deep slumber to find myself standing beneath the cage, my arms stretched toward it in some silent, beckoning plea. But still my soul would not join it.

When I no longer had the strength to rise from the bed that my Sara had put in her sanctuary, my Sara would come to sit by my side. "We are so close, my Will," she would whisper in my ear. "Soon, we will be the only ones left. We will have the whole world to ourselves, to go and explore as we please."

My Sara had never desired for power, but I could see it tugging at her now, just as the luminous cage of bone pulled at me, insistently, enticingly, impossible to ignore forever.

"We will become birds," I said, too softly for her to hear.

Perhaps we could have succeeded. Perhaps, if we worked quickly enough, we could have captured the entire world before anyone had time to react, as it had been with the capital city. But it seems clear to me now that it was inevitable that someone, somewhere would be strong enough to resist. Someone who clung as fiercely to his life as we did ours.

There were three of them. Two men and one woman in a ragged group, riding bony, half-starved horses. Young, all of them, with pale skin and eyes. Foreigners from a far-away place that had been less affected than the people nearby.

My Sara watched them come, and told me about the in the few scant hours I managed to stay awake. "This is no innocent group of travelers," she concluded. "They come armed with knives and bows. It will not take them long to find us, the only living inhabitants in the city." She stood up, tense and determined. "We will be prepared when they come."

Against my feeble protests, she set up a bed of cushions beneath the sycamore tree in our castle courtyard. With a strength I didn't know she possessed, my Sara carried my weak body there and lay me gently down onto the soft bed.

"It may get dangerous in there," she told me by way of explanation, gently wiping away the tears from my cheek with her small, bony hand. "I will come back for you when this is over, my Will. I promise." She kissed me one final time on the lips, then walked toward the glass dome that was just visible above the castle walls, her back straight and proud.

All my life I had not known if my Sara had any room in her heart for me beside her love of knowledge, and of the inner mysteries of the world. But in her eyes during our final meeting, I saw not the light that shone when she was absorbed in one of her delicate experiments, but the blinding glow of love.

I closed my eyes and smiled, knowing that I had lasted longer than all the rest only because my soul was not my own. My Sara had not been able to take it from me, for it had been hers form the start. And with the knowledge of her love giving new strength to my frail body, I resolved that it would be hers forever more.

I do not know precisely what happened within my Sara's domed building, but I saw the preparations she had made for the foreigners' arrival. Chemicals were distilled and titrated, and poured into vials with their lids only half closed. Some were acids that ate bone. Others were highly volatile when they met something as simple as air or water. She filled dozens of kegs with a black powder that would erupt into flames at the tiniest spark.

I could only imagine what happened from what I heard and saw from where I lay in the shade of the sycamore.

Shouts in a foreign tongue. Breaking glass. Screams. A crash.  A single, shrill cry. A flash of colorless light.

They had found her, and her deadly chemicals, but had succeeded in breaking the cage of bone and releasing the souls. As the light dispersed, I felt my strength begin to return, and struggled to stand so I could help my Sara. Just as I rose to my knees, the glass dome exploded in a great belching eruption of flame and melted shards of glass.

The kegs of powder.

I do not know who lit them, or whether it had merely been an accident. I shall never know, as all who might have told me the truth died instantly amidst that terrible inferno.

I collapsed back onto the cushions and wept for my Sara, and the dream that I had been unable to help her fulfill. Perhaps in my grief-driven delirium I imagined it, but I raised my head and saw through my tears a tiny pulsing light fly from the ruined building. It looked like a bird, its colorless wings carrying it out into the vast world. I resolved then to keep on living, for my Sara.

After I had recovered my strength, I collected my Sara's bones and buried her in the courtyard, where she and I had lived the happiest years of our short lives together. I sat down within the blackened walls of her sanctuary to record the truth you read here now, if in fact there is anyone left to read it. When I am finished, I will store these pages safely away and go off myself to find the last vestiges of human life. Perhaps I will find no one. Perhaps there are others like those clear-eyed foreigners still living on in a far corner of the earth.

If I do find these people, I will give no excuses for what I and my Sara have done. She wanted only to find the cog that turned the world, and found it, and I wanted only to give her the world, and gave it. For my Sara, my dear, beautiful Sara, I would give nothing less.
I feel like it's been a while since I uploaded something long and substantial, so here we are.

This story is old and I've read it about a hundred times. I know every flaw; it's relentlessly sad, and the language can be awkward and the descriptions tired and stale to my eyes. It's long, and takes more than a few minutes to sit down and read all the way through.

But.

Personally, this is one of the best stories I've ever written. There's something about it, something that hits me in the gut even after the hundred-and-first time. Something still makes me sneak little odes to Will and his Sara, every once in a while, in other things I write. So please, if you have the time and inclination, read this if you don't read anything else in my gallery.

I hope you discover that it's worth it. :heart:


[EDIT] Thanks so much for the DLD! You guys are wonderful. :tighthug:
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Daily Deviation

Given 2013-03-03
My Sara by ~scarletbird "brings new meaning to the idea of giving someone the world" (suggester's words). ( Suggested by LadyofGaerdon and Featured by neurotype )
:icongummyrabbit:
gummyrabbit Featured By Owner Apr 5, 2013  Student Writer
This is gorgeous. You show a remarkable understanding of the way humans act, what they live for. A very meaningful and subtle piece, good job
Reply
:iconcordaicor:
cordaicor Featured By Owner Mar 22, 2013
Absolutely awesome!!! I love the full story!!! Just had to faved it :P Cheers!
Reply
:iconmoonsloth:
moonsloth Featured By Owner Mar 15, 2013  Student Writer
perfect. just amazing. It is such a beautiful story and it makes so much sense.
Reply
:iconunknownsushi:
Unknownsushi Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Student General Artist
stunning:heart: you have me in tears
Reply
:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Student Writer
Thanks! I'm sorry I made you cry though! :noes:
Reply
:iconunknownsushi:
Unknownsushi Featured By Owner Mar 6, 2013  Student General Artist
no dear dont be sorry, i really enjoyed it. be joyful that you have the talent to evoke such feelings and word things in such amazing way. i cant wait to see what else you do~<3
Reply
:iconrodtheworm:
rodtheworm Featured By Owner Mar 4, 2013
Wow, that was really impressive! Great concept!
Reply
:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Student Writer
Thanks.
Reply
:iconjbdestiny:
jbdestiny Featured By Owner Mar 4, 2013
a beautiful story of a terrible and morbid love. Thank you for sharing this. and congrats on the DD
Reply
:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Student Writer
Thank you!
Reply
:iconzacharyp99:
zacharyp99 Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2013  Hobbyist Photographer
Lovely story.
Reply
:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Student Writer
Thank you.
Reply
:iconzacharyp99:
zacharyp99 Featured By Owner Mar 6, 2013  Hobbyist Photographer
You're welcome!
Reply
:iconanimerocks234:
AnimeRocks234 Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2013  Student Traditional Artist
that was beautiful
Reply
:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Student Writer
Thanks.
Reply
:icontgiba:
TGIBA Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Most definitely worth the read.
Bravo! :heart:

Stunning, incredibly emotional work. I adore it. And even the sadness it conveys.
Because without the dark, there is no light.
Reply
:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Student Writer
Thank you. :heart:
Reply
:icontgiba:
TGIBA Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you! :D
Reply
:iconphoenixscribe:
PhoenixScribe Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
The only two words I found that described this piece were these: beautiful and haunting.
Reply
:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Student Writer
Thank you!
Reply
:iconpkmntrainerfixc:
PKMNTrainerFixc Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2013
This.



THIS.


MY FEELS.
Reply
:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Student Writer
I apologize for your feels! :noes:
Reply
:iconcairngorm77:
Cairngorm77 Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2013
wow.You held me in this story amidst so many distractions here at my home. Beautiful, sickening, dreadful, amazing. Well done. Also the first I have read to the end.
Reply
:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Student Writer
Thank you! That's wonderful to hear. :heart:
Reply
:iconc-johnson462:
C-Johnson462 Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2013  Professional Traditional Artist
I love Sarah.
Reply
:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Student Writer
:giggle: Don't let Will hear you say that...
Reply
:iconc-johnson462:
C-Johnson462 Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Professional Traditional Artist
Let him hear it... I'm not afraid.
Reply
:iconempresshelenia:
EmpressHelenia Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2013
This is the first literary DD I've ever read all the way through. It grabbed me instantly and didn't let go.
Deceptively simple, but with a bone-chilling undertone (no pun intended)... Definitely worth a Daily Deviation!
Reply
:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Student Writer
Thanks!
Reply
:iconsierra-charlie:
Sierra-Charlie Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2013
I don't usually read the literature deviations, because i often find then long. However reading this, I just got immersed in your story and I am so pleased that I decided to read it. Beautiful work and I'll go check the rest of your work.
Reply
:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Student Writer
Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it. :aww:
Reply
:iconsagittarianism:
Sagittarianism Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
I have nothing to say but: I LOVE YOU, MAN!!! :iconbrohugplz: (I call everybody, 'man')
This is an amazing story! It's something I'd expect to read in an anthology of modern fantasy by several renowned writers. I think Catherynne M. Valente would love this; it's her kind of story.
Let me bow to your awesome awesomeness! :worship:
I can only hope to be as good as you are; my writing has also changed over the years, but I'm nowhere near as good as this. :) You humble me and my once-arrogant view of myself as a writer; you deserve praise, my friend! :tighthug:

Also, congratulations on the well-deserved DD! I'm glad they picked it! :clap:

:peace:
Reply
:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Student Writer
I... am not a man, but I will accept your love. :giggle: I have a TON to learn, but thanks for the kind words.
Reply
:iconsagittarianism:
Sagittarianism Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
That's why I said "I call everybody 'man'." I just say it to everybody, gal or guy. :D
And you're welcome! :) And no worries; we all have tons to learn all our lives, so our writing can only get better from here on. :)

:peace:
Reply
:icondisquietreverie:
disquietreverie Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
congrats on the DD. I really enjoyed it. Fast paced but descriptive at the same time.
Reply
:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Student Writer
Thanks!
Reply
:iconcalthyechild:
calthyechild Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2013  Professional Digital Artist
Heh, this was great, a nice inversion of a classic fantasy story indeed. It was a bit bone-chilling, gut-wrenching to read. Easily I could see this becoming something grander.

It's a nice bit of launch work. I'd like to think you've grown all the more as a writer, and yet I smile a bit at the idea of this creeping back in. Reminds me of a few things I wrote.

I'm glad it got a DD. Thanks for writing it.
Reply
:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Student Writer
Some stories just stick with us. :nod: I still find myself writing tidbits about these two, years later.

I'm glad you liked it. :aww:
Reply
:iconrosebfischer:
rosebfischer Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2013  Professional Digital Artist
This is a really cool concept. My main criticism would be some of the awkward phrasing, but you've already mentioned that in your own description. I think it's a very brave piece altogether.
Reply
:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Student Writer
Thanks! This is 5-6 years old, so yeah-this one's showing its age. I'm glad you enjoyed it nonetheless. :heart:
Reply
:iconrosebfischer:
rosebfischer Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Professional Digital Artist
You're welcome.
Reply
:iconthe-imagined:
the-imagined Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Wow. This took my breath away (and what else). The DD is totally, seriously deserved. Well done!
Reply
:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Student Writer
Thank you!
Reply
:iconreptilian-angel:
Reptilian-Angel Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2013
What a beautiful Shades of Grey; it's so sad and beautiful that it's downright heartbreaking. In a good way of course. This story is told fantastically and you've described the emotions of Sara and Will perfectly. It's the perfect tragic romantic hero story!!!
Reply
:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Student Writer
Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it. :aww:
Reply
:iconreptilian-angel:
Reptilian-Angel Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013
All too naturally. XD
Reply
:iconciriandbuzz:
Ciriandbuzz Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
A truly amazing piece. A heartwarming stoy with a bonechilling edge.
Reply
:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Student Writer
Thanks!
Reply
:iconbrighterthanever65:
brighterthanever65 Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Wow. I'm amazed. I absolutely love this. It's so deep and enthralling...Fantastic writing.
Reply
:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Student Writer
Thanks! :heart:
Reply
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