Songless splash

Clink, clink.

It cannot resound.

Steel is light, steel is thin, steel clanks.

Had there be sun, it would also shine. There is no sun.

There is rain, though. Murmuring. Quietly - no. Loudly - neither. Because the clank can be heard, but their hearts cannot.

So steel clinks. Blade to blade, they hug each other, wet, shake themselves off the drops and are still wet.

Clothes - steeped, not in moist, not in blood. In sweat. The sweat runs, pushing out also blood and water from the threads. And there is only sweat. While the rain is washing only bare skin.

Their eyes - pressed. They do not see. They do not look at each other. They just keep swinging steel - steel, ground to kill.

And in this dance, in this clinging, in this whisper of the rain, she, her arms stretched out, her veins strained, she, having lost her radiance for a second, slides fatally, balefully, down a thread of light having cracked the sky and descended to earth.

Blood. The blood first springs out live, pushes roughly away the raindrops, flashes with the blades, under the sun, then falls down.

Falls down...

"It hurts," she said, having finally opened her eyes, thrown the steel aside, turned her face to the sky. The thread of light, the one to blame for the section on her breast, is fondling her.

"Had it not hurt, it would have not been worth it."

"Does it always hurt?" Thrill, the clink has stopped. There is no more murmur - the rain has also stopped. But the steel keeps glowing. The blood on his keeps glowing too.

"No, it won't hurt anymore."





And they called the place Songless Splash.