Post by StoriesThatNeverWere on Mar 5, 2007 15:06:14 GMT -5
The subdued brush of October wind wavered unleafed tree limbs in a slow rocking pattern. The sky could not be described as either gray or white, as every time the sun tried to beam cheer upon the small city in New York, it seemed to cower away, as heartsick as the ants below. The occasional neighbor would be outside his yard, a rake in hand, stroking endlessly at the fresh piles of decayed leaves. Every car that passed down Chile Lane dawdled as though its drivers were unsure of where they were headed. Birds did not tweedle and scurry about the skies in preparation for winter. Instead they perched on telephone poles, becoming a statue of a once-life for eternity.
Set in a home in this dismal town was a woman of exquisite beauty. Born in a time where appearance was key, she always thrived in her looks. Deep seawater eyes positioned on both sides of her petite nose, rose highlights shading her thin cheeks, C-shaped ears hidden behind full, horse-silk, dark hair, and sunset pink lips unnecessary for lip gloss. The young woman of 33 wore a simple green sweatshirt, with grungy pants, and white thin slippers on her clean feet. She was leaned against the back of a brown chair. A special rocker that belonged to her husband. It was a 5th anniversary present she bought for him 6 years before. It smelled of his robust odor, a tainted smell that had taken months to overcome.
Her thoughts that day were once again on him. She loved her husband. So much, she had adored him for twelve years. They met at school. During a morning similar to this one, she had stood in the college parking lot, shivering to generate warmth; she had locked her keys in the car. She’d considered calling a taxi or riding with a friend. But like a hero in a fairy tale, the dashing brown-haired prince rode in on his mustang, which actually was a ’97 Ford Mustang, and using his oh-so-clever car opening skills, he succeeded in not only giving her transportation, but receiving the rights to a date.
Time grew along with them, as their romance flower budded with a true love rare to the young. A year later, they married in the same parking lot they met. After college, the newlyweds bought their house, a humble English home in New York. While living together, they angered each other constantly, as siblings might do. But every time afterward, he would take her in his arms, and dance to the silence as they made their own music. She would place her head in the crook of his neck, and sway in a one-motion with him. She loved him the most at these times. These joyous nights of holding each other in a bond that could not be broken by anything. Anything, except time.
These moments were so fresh that they provided breathing air for her. What she would do to have that again. But it wasn’t to be so. They had not danced against the weariness of life for almost a year now. The beauty looked down at her branched-out hand, glancing at the precious prize on the fourth limb. The ring absorbed all the light it could to boast its clear shine and size after so many years. It prided itself in its achievements, as though it had been the glue that held this marriage together. And maybe it had been. But if forever had been its destination, it had reached a dead end.
Slowly, the woman pulled the band from her finger. R efusing to be rejected so easily, the seal attached itself to the skin of her knuckle. However with some further pulling, it released. At the base of her finger, the indentation of the past eleven years reminded her that it was simply not over. But she wanted it to be so. Like stripping a band-aid from a wound, she wished more then anything for this to be quick and painless. Yet as she watched the blue sedan pull into the driveway, the heartbreak immediately started to infect her heart. It seeped into her blood stream and in no time reached her eyes, pouring out in a liquid form.
The clickety-hum of the engine ceased, and a leg soon appeared from the open car door. Its brother rejoined him, then a waist, chest, and head finally appeared from within the vehicle. He was wearing the same suit from yesterday, a black striped outfit necessary for his job. He was still as handsome as ever, only with a few more wrinkles under his eyes and fuller muscles. He stood straight, pulling on his tie and bobbing his head to the sides, straightening his outfit. Satisfied, he headed for the door.
She stood from the chair, and slowly made her way into the kitchen. He had just stepped inside when she reached the opposite doorway. Seeing her, his eyes brightened into a way that always warmed her body with the heat of fire. He placed his suitcase down, and began a story about having to work late. It had become his usual excuse, and he used it carefully. But unnecessarily it was today. The brunette stepped forward, reaching him, and looked into his smoked pupils. He stopped and lowered his eyebrows in confusion.
With her left hand, she took his wrist and raised it to her stomach. She then placed her wedding ring in his palm, dropping in slowly, while briefly skimming his fingers. When he looked down, his expression could not be read perfectly. Like a perfume of shock, hurt, confusion, and disbelief had been sprayed cleanly from his forehead to his chin. His mouth vibrated, forming a question of false misunderstanding. But she wouldn’t have it. Instead, she shook her head, signifying that discussion was no option.
Slowly, the belle wrapped her arms over his shoulders, and brought them back around so the opposite hand made the opposite elbow. She closed her eyes, pressing her cheek to his chest. In turn he reached both hands behind to her back. He caressed her ribs, and surrendered to what had become of them. There, they danced to a silent song for the last time. An eternal second that, when ended, would permanently end their love.
EDIT: Thanks, Anna Christie.
Set in a home in this dismal town was a woman of exquisite beauty. Born in a time where appearance was key, she always thrived in her looks. Deep seawater eyes positioned on both sides of her petite nose, rose highlights shading her thin cheeks, C-shaped ears hidden behind full, horse-silk, dark hair, and sunset pink lips unnecessary for lip gloss. The young woman of 33 wore a simple green sweatshirt, with grungy pants, and white thin slippers on her clean feet. She was leaned against the back of a brown chair. A special rocker that belonged to her husband. It was a 5th anniversary present she bought for him 6 years before. It smelled of his robust odor, a tainted smell that had taken months to overcome.
Her thoughts that day were once again on him. She loved her husband. So much, she had adored him for twelve years. They met at school. During a morning similar to this one, she had stood in the college parking lot, shivering to generate warmth; she had locked her keys in the car. She’d considered calling a taxi or riding with a friend. But like a hero in a fairy tale, the dashing brown-haired prince rode in on his mustang, which actually was a ’97 Ford Mustang, and using his oh-so-clever car opening skills, he succeeded in not only giving her transportation, but receiving the rights to a date.
Time grew along with them, as their romance flower budded with a true love rare to the young. A year later, they married in the same parking lot they met. After college, the newlyweds bought their house, a humble English home in New York. While living together, they angered each other constantly, as siblings might do. But every time afterward, he would take her in his arms, and dance to the silence as they made their own music. She would place her head in the crook of his neck, and sway in a one-motion with him. She loved him the most at these times. These joyous nights of holding each other in a bond that could not be broken by anything. Anything, except time.
These moments were so fresh that they provided breathing air for her. What she would do to have that again. But it wasn’t to be so. They had not danced against the weariness of life for almost a year now. The beauty looked down at her branched-out hand, glancing at the precious prize on the fourth limb. The ring absorbed all the light it could to boast its clear shine and size after so many years. It prided itself in its achievements, as though it had been the glue that held this marriage together. And maybe it had been. But if forever had been its destination, it had reached a dead end.
Slowly, the woman pulled the band from her finger. R efusing to be rejected so easily, the seal attached itself to the skin of her knuckle. However with some further pulling, it released. At the base of her finger, the indentation of the past eleven years reminded her that it was simply not over. But she wanted it to be so. Like stripping a band-aid from a wound, she wished more then anything for this to be quick and painless. Yet as she watched the blue sedan pull into the driveway, the heartbreak immediately started to infect her heart. It seeped into her blood stream and in no time reached her eyes, pouring out in a liquid form.
The clickety-hum of the engine ceased, and a leg soon appeared from the open car door. Its brother rejoined him, then a waist, chest, and head finally appeared from within the vehicle. He was wearing the same suit from yesterday, a black striped outfit necessary for his job. He was still as handsome as ever, only with a few more wrinkles under his eyes and fuller muscles. He stood straight, pulling on his tie and bobbing his head to the sides, straightening his outfit. Satisfied, he headed for the door.
She stood from the chair, and slowly made her way into the kitchen. He had just stepped inside when she reached the opposite doorway. Seeing her, his eyes brightened into a way that always warmed her body with the heat of fire. He placed his suitcase down, and began a story about having to work late. It had become his usual excuse, and he used it carefully. But unnecessarily it was today. The brunette stepped forward, reaching him, and looked into his smoked pupils. He stopped and lowered his eyebrows in confusion.
With her left hand, she took his wrist and raised it to her stomach. She then placed her wedding ring in his palm, dropping in slowly, while briefly skimming his fingers. When he looked down, his expression could not be read perfectly. Like a perfume of shock, hurt, confusion, and disbelief had been sprayed cleanly from his forehead to his chin. His mouth vibrated, forming a question of false misunderstanding. But she wouldn’t have it. Instead, she shook her head, signifying that discussion was no option.
Slowly, the belle wrapped her arms over his shoulders, and brought them back around so the opposite hand made the opposite elbow. She closed her eyes, pressing her cheek to his chest. In turn he reached both hands behind to her back. He caressed her ribs, and surrendered to what had become of them. There, they danced to a silent song for the last time. An eternal second that, when ended, would permanently end their love.
EDIT: Thanks, Anna Christie.
Again, I'm very sorry. This is a lovely piece- I've given you karma for it. 