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Story 1Writings by Others
Children of the 80sA StoryKateChopin The Story of AnHour|
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| So far this story is incomplete, has no title and i don't know where the hell it's leading! but i like it :-) |
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| Huddled close to the stone, shivering in the early morning fog, I repeat softly inside my head, my mantra: There is love somewhere, someone out there loves me. With this thought I block out the gnawing pain in my gut, the bleeding blisters on my aching feet are forgotten. Nothing can hurt me- I am loved. Rosie Engle, I read from the stone shielding me from the wind. Her husband was Charles, she was 42. She is loved and deeply missed. I press closer to Rosie's stone, somehow hoping to draw heat from the cold marble slab. I wrap my arms around my knees and pull them close to my chest. My long skirt billows out around me. I shiver violently and begin chanting my mantra even more intently, because I'm beginning to feel the Cold deep within again. Fear creeps in when I hear footsteps crunching the crisp frosted grass close by. I bury my head in my knees, continuing the thought pattern, the only thing that has kept me going for so long. Someone out there loves me, and love is all I need to survive. The heavy footsteps draw steadily nearer, knowing exactly where I am, coming closer to Rosie's grave and my hiding place. Suddenly a large brooding form hovers above me and blocks out the little bit of sunlight peeking through the clouds. Unable to concentrate on my thoughts, my body begins to shake uncontrollably and the cold pierces me deeply. I feel a hand pry my two hands apart, from where they clench together, holding my legs close to me. The large gloved hand takes my left hand into itself, and another large hand takes my right and the form pulls me slowly to my feet. All the while my eyes are closed tightly, my teeth are chattering and my body still shakes from the bitter cold within. No matter what happens, I am loved. Someone loves me, I am loved. Suddenly I am wrapped in a tight embrace. The large form enfolds me in the cloak that he wears, pressed close to his warm secure body with his arms and cloak shielding me from the wind. My head is pressed against his chest, he is so much taller than me that my head rests where his heart beats, loudly, repeatedly, assuringly. His arms are pressing mine to my sides, pressing against my elbows. Unaware of what I am doing, I loosen the grip just enough to wrap my arms around his muscular body, and his arms slide up to wrap around my shoulders. Without my arms in the way, our embrace is much closer, and his body heat quickly transfers to my ice cold body and I am no longer cold at all. I hug his body close to mine, pressing his strong firm chest to my head, and listen intently to the steady pulse from within. After what seemed an eternity of being held and lost in the world those strong arms create for me, his arms drop and suddenly I am scooped up off my feet and into the air, his cloak still covering me. With one arm wrapped around my shoulders and upper back, and the other supporting me by my thighs and knees as though being rescued, I muse, he begins walking, careful to keep me covered and not to let in a draft. I am comforted by the fact that his steps do not waver or stumble despite the extra weight, and I fall asleep to the steady rhythm of his footsteps. I come from unconsciousness to a beautiful dream. I am laying on my back, stretched out on a luxurious plush sofa, and the only light I can see is that which is coming from the roaring fireplace not far away. I start to sit up, and immediately he gets up from the high backed chair across the room that I hadn't noticed before, and rushes to my side. He who rescued me from the bitter cold. I know nothing about him at all, not his name, nor how he came to find me just as I was about to give in. All this matters not; for the first time I see his face, I know everything is right with the world. He stares intently into my face with green eyes the color of amazon forests, showing deep concern for my well being. His pale white skin stretches over a strong jaw line and high cheekbones, eyebrows thick and forehead wrinkled with worry. His hair is of the darkest black, reaching down to his shoulder and curling ever so slightly where it touches there. His hair does not shine in the firelight, it simply absorbs it. |
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