The Visit

The Visit

Title: The Visit

Author: Kyna

Summary: This is a SPOILER for Potions Magic, so don't read it unless you want a MAJOR hint as to the twist in the plot. I might include it within the story itself, however, right now, it stands alone.

~***~

"Catharine," Emma Flint questioned gently. "Are you coming?"

Catharine hung her head down, her long and unusual caramel colored hair framed her face and hid her tears from her sister. Softly, ever so quietly, "In a bit." She stared at the tombstone, the simple inscription upon it: Rest in peace. You live forever in our memories. And an angel was etched directly below the message, with a small star resting upon her outstretched palm.

She said and did nothing until she heard her sister's footsteps begin to fade. Then silent tears fell to the grass covering the grave. And one barely audible name, "Sarah." She leaned forward and laid the small rose she had been clutching below the angel. The girl sank to the ground, and began to murmur soft words of confession.

"I'll miss you, always. But, you… you got off easy. Everything they wanted for you, they have transferred to me. They don't understand - I'm not you. I can't do it, can't do what they expected of you. Yet, I can't do what you did either, get out of it all, leave Emma to suffer my fate."

And even quieter, "I hate you, Sarah. You're perfect in their eyes, never changing with death, never to be anything but their pure angel. I can't compete with you; I'm not perfect. And somehow, I feel that if it was I in your grave and you, alive, you would overcome any image they might have of me as unchanging innocence… I never understood it, you were always obedient, never a trouble, always a pleasure," a pause, as Catharine's thoughts became more painful.

"They sometimes forget you're dead. They call me Sarah…" a choked sob interrupted her hushed confession. "It's almost as if I'd died and you were still alive. I hate you so much; it's killing me. And for some reason, I love you, oh Merlin, you are - were - my twin sister. How could you do this to them? To me?" Catharine's voice rose to a shriller tone, "You weren't thinking, were you? You only ever thought of yourself. I hate you. I hate you."

As, she sat on her sister's grave, she looked around, avoided a glance at the tombstone in front of which she sat, fearing, maybe even hoping a vengeful spirit would emerge and take out its offense upon her. But nothing happened, and Catharine got swiftly to her feet, and began to walk from the small, inconspicuous grave. An almost silent "I'm sorry" emerged from her lips, and died upon the still air.

Driving from the burial ground, she could still make out a small red rose, perfect and timeless, its thorns removed with careful fingers, and a charm placed upon the flower, preserving it forever, in the midst of the many looming grey stones.

~***~

Author Note: Thank you Alex for the lovely comment! I totally agree - I write stories MUCH better than poetry - but you never know, practice might make perfect.

Feedback, as always, is appreciated.

Email me!


	The Visit Title: The Visit Author: Kyna Summary: This is a SPOILER for Potions Magic, so don't read it unless you want a MAJOR hint as to the twist in the plot. I might include it within the story itself, however, right now, it stands alone. ~**~ "Catharine," Emma Flint questioned gently. "Are you coming?" Catharine hung her head down, her long and unusual caramel colored hair framed her face and hid her tears from her sister. Softly, ever so quietly, "In a bit." She stared at the tombstone, the simple inscription upon it: Rest in peace. You live forever in our memories.* And an angel was etched directly below the message, with a small star resting upon her outstretched palm. She said and did nothing until she heard her sister's footsteps begin to fade. Then silent tears fell to the grass covering the grave. And one barely audible name, "Sarah." She leaned forward and laid the small rose she had been clutching below the angel. The girl sank to the ground, and began to murmur soft words of confession. "I'll miss you, always. But, you… you got off easy. Everything they wanted for you, they have transferred to me. They don't understand - I'm not you. I can't do it, can't do what they expected of you. Yet, I can't do what you did either, get out of it all, leave Emma to suffer my fate." And even quieter, "I hate you, Sarah. You're perfect in their eyes, never changing with death, never to be anything but their pure angel. I can't compete with you; I'm not perfect. And somehow, I feel that if it was I in your grave and you, alive, you would overcome any image they might have of me as unchanging innocence… I never understood it, you were always obedient, never a trouble, always a pleasure," a pause, as Catharine's thoughts became more painful. "They sometimes forget you're dead. They call me Sarah…" a choked sob interrupted her hushed confession. "It's almost as if I'd died and you were still alive. I hate you so much; it's killing me. And for some reason, I love you, oh Merlin, you are - were - my twin sister. How could you do this to them? To me?" Catharine's voice rose to a shriller tone, "You weren't thinking, were you? You only ever thought of yourself. I hate you. I hate you." As, she sat on her sister's grave, she looked around, avoided a glance at the tombstone in front of which she sat, fearing, maybe even hoping a vengeful spirit would emerge and take out its offense upon her. But nothing happened, and Catharine got swiftly to her feet, and began to walk from the small, inconspicuous grave. An almost silent "I'm sorry" emerged from her lips, and died upon the still air. Driving from the burial ground, she could still make out a small red rose, perfect and timeless, its thorns removed with careful fingers, and a charm placed upon the flower, preserving it forever, in the midst of the many looming grey stones. ~**~ Author Note: Thank you Alex for the lovely comment! I totally agree - I write stories MUCH better than poetry - but you never know, practice might make perfect.* Feedback, as always, is appreciated. Email me!