Saturn as seen from Titan, painting by Chesley Bonestell

Saturn as seen from Titan, painting by Chesley Bonestell
Favorite astronomical painting

Thursday, December 16, 2010

I've pasted in my short Unspoken Love

My very short story Unspoken Love seems to have disappeared off my Allromanceebooks. It was in the newsletter section and I guess they don't retain anything that is over two years old. It appeared there on September 20, 2008. This is very short as per their guidelines. I first penned this at a writers conference in 2008 I believe. It won't take you long.

The brown, wooden sign with white letters read Antioch College. Rounded hedges and a circle of bricks stacked two high surrounded the sign. A myriad of flowers flaunting a kaleidoscope of colors, violet, yellow, red, orange, nestled within that stone circle, threatening to break out into the nearby green carpet of grass. A tree donated its protective shade.
A hundred yards away, a four-story brick building stood. It was there that my eyes first feasted upon her. From the doorway she came, her steps short and rapid, a purpose in those gentle strides. Even from this distance, I knew she was beautiful. Beauty. Is it painted lips, perfect wavy blonde hair, and a model’s figure? No. What of her beauty? The closer she approached, the more inadequate words became to describe that beauty. Her smile, a blushing innocence, burst forth in its gentleness as of the sun peaking around the edge of a cloud.
Her eyes glued to mine and she stopped. I did not scan her from head to toe nor did she me. My breath caught, a connection with her affecting all my senses, sight, taste, touch, hearing, smelling seemed sensitive like never before. Brilliant colors flood my eyes, the freshness of the flowers and hedges exciting my taste, the feel of the light wind caressing my skin, the rustling of each leaf distinct from every other leaf distinguished by my ears, the fragrance of each flower recognized in turn by my nose.
She moved with grace, her steps delicate, feminine as she came, stopped, and placed one of her hands on one of the rounded hedges. She gazed at the hedge a few seconds, then at me. My heart melted. I approached her, daring to stand within a few feet of her. I placed my hand on the hedge next to hers, the prickly stems threatening to break my focus on her. She smiled, cocked her head a little and then rested her free hand on mine. I sighed and laid my free hand on hers. So soft, her hand under mine, so warm, her hand on top of mine. The gouging stems became a dim memory.
I gave a head motion toward the flowers and we skirted the circle of bricks, stopping first at purple blossoms, kneeling. She moved her full skirt up slightly, her bare knees resting in the grass. She touched a flower, and I touched the top of her hand. I touched another flower and she touched the top of my hand. The aromatic essence, the fragile petals, the intense violet color channeled through each of our hands, arms, heart and back into our other hands, arms and heart. The touch, smell, sight mixed from heart to heart. Each group of flowers around the brick perimeter kept building, pouring into my heart and I could feel it into her heart too.
I stood up and grasped her hand, helping her to lift from her bended knees. She clasped her hands on mine, facing me. Our hands lifted slightly, then our eyes met, hers piercing to my core. I could see her knowledge of my heart and I watched her take a deep breath, tilting her head up, her face flushing, her lips parting, her eyes moving from one spot to another on my face. I didn’t know what lovely part on her face, or hair to enjoy. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t get enough of the emotional feast for it consumed me. I started to speak, but she raised her forefinger, placed it on my lips, and puckered her mouth, adding to her insistence that I remain silent. A most wonderful enlightenment, building to full force now, swamped me. I knew we belonged together, and would never part.


Anne Patrick said...

Beautiful piece, Larry! You do such a wonderful job with description.

Miss Mae said...

Really nice. I love this one. :)

Gail Pallotta said...

Hi Larry,
I like your story very much.

Celia Yeary said...

Very Poetic, Larry. You could, you now, make the story into poetry.With such beautiful descriptions that put us right in the scene, you have created a lovely story. Celia

Larry Hammersley said...

Hi Anne, Miss Mae, Gail and Celia: Thanks for coming by my blog. Your comments are most appreciated as always. I must confess the sign, tree, flowers and bricks were taken from a postcard I chose for the writing assignment in the seminar. It was a rapid writing assignment and when I got home I cleaned it up and sent it to Allromanceebooks for their free read. What a neat idea, Celia about poetry. I don't understand free verse and my rhyming poetry doesn't adhere to meter, etc. very well. I've written poetry to my wife, my late mother and I think to my daughter-in-law. Not sure of that one but perhaps I need to write her one this Christmas.

Rebecca J Vickery said...

HI Larry,
I'm late (as always seems to be the case lately), but I'm here. LOL

I loved your short piece and felt like I was experiencing the warmth of their love right along with your couple. This proves once again that "sweet" romance can be heady and emotion-filled if written well.

Laurean Brooks said...

Beautiful! So visual. I wish I could write description the way you do.

It's a form of poetry I lack. But I'm glad you have this gift. That way I can enjoy it.