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Rated: E · Short Story · Emotional · #1136980
Unedited, prompt for my novel. Expect to be confused.
A young woman flew down the white steps of her house and sped barefooted across the felt green grass towards the looming stables. Once inside, she saddled up her favorite horse, a horse of chocolate. She flung herself on its back and took off in a flash through the large wooden doors. The horse glided as if floating an inch above the ground as it wound its way through trees placed here and there.
Over the rolling green hills they went, speeding ever so quickly towards to beach. The young woman watched ahead as the deep blue sea came closer. She was riding fast enough that at a glance she looked like a white flowing speck atop a deep brown horse.
Now, on the beach, they continued to fly on the silk sand. The horse’s hooves were muffled by it. The young woman’s icy blue eyes stared fixedly forward squinting away the lukewarm breeze. The wind pressed against her, sending her long golden hair a flutter, and her white dress billowed like a flag behind her.
The smell of a fresh sea appealed to her nose, the perfect smell of a diseased storm: rainwater and seaweed. The ocean spray sent chills down her arms and neck. She closed her eyes for an instant, but opened them just as quickly when she felt another’s eyes on her. She looked ahead and notice a figure in the distance.
Although the horse kept speeding forward, the figure never came closer. Squinting still, through the mist and fog of the sea, she tried to make out what was watching her. Her heart plunged and she pulled heard on the reigns. The speeding horse came to an astonishing stop. Gasping for breath, she began to realize what that figure was. A faded outline of a boy stood far away, his face full of sorrow. His shaggy hair whiffed in the breeze. Unblinking silver eyes penetrated her heart. All he did was stand, unmoving save for the summer winds rustling his clothing, staring deep at her. A strain with the eye, and the young woman noticed he was transparent, though only in the slightest.
It’s him, she thought.
And immediate devastation over powered her as the memories of five years past exploded in her mind. The old feelings of grief returned so suddenly, it was overwhelming.
An anvil like weight dropped within the depths of her heart and threatened to crash straight through her if she made any sudden movement. Guilt also filled her to the brim. She sat feeling anger and sadness and guilt when the levy broke. Heavy tears dove down her rosy cheeks and the river of questions that she once knew so well came to her mind once more. It had been forever since these thoughts first tormented her. They came, however, not from her mind, but it seemed as though they were coming from another, and its voice scolded and accused her.
How could you? What did he do to deserve this? You marry another though you love him. Why did you do this? You did not grieve. You only found another boy and married him!
And then the counter thought from her mind. But how could he? I do love him, yet I married another because he died! I wasn’t to grieve because I knew we’d be together again!
And then the first voice: He still loves you. The day you married the other his heart, though already dead, shattered into a million pieces and each piece stabbed, pinched, and pierced him, and does so each time he sees you with the other. He watches you constantly.
The counter voice: Then have him stop watching me! It’ll end the pain! It is the fault of him!! Yes, I love him, but there’s nothing I can do about it!
Thrusting away the next accusing thought, she looked towards the sea, and then turned her gaze back toward the fading boy. He returned the gaze with a glare. Another tear leaked down her cheek.
‘I’m Sorry!” She said, and turned her horse around.
Now her eyes met those of a dark haired man, her husband, riding a glossy black stallion. Together, they galloped back to the house, leaving the boy to glare at them in pain and despair. The young woman turned her sad eyes back to look at the boy for one more moment.
But he was gone.
© Copyright 2006 Nellie Hardenbrook (raspberry at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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