I sigh deeply and reach for the handle to the door. All the while I try to quell the swelling passion in my bosom, for I want to appear worthy to my love. My stomach feels hollow within me, and I ache to fill the hollow void. There is only one who can soothe this ache, and my eyes gleam with anticipation. Yet still I am nervous. My hand rests on the door handle, hesitates, then pulls against it.
The white door swings open, and a whisper of cold air touches my cheek. I drop to my knees, for this position is the only fitting way to appear before my love. I gaze into the small confines of my beloved's abode, waiting for her beautiful presence to greet me.
But something is wrong. I feel it in my bones, and worry too deep for words spills into my innermost thoughts. The one I love does not instantly appear before me, and the emptiness of this realization threatens to overwhelm me. My search becomes frantic, for I must find my love--or have my heart torn in two. I throw aside the lesser things of my beloved's abode, caring very little if they are broken to pieces, for what are they but mere shadows of the beauty contained in the one I search for? I do not stop till every corner--every nook, crevice and cranny--of the place has been searched. I leave nothing unturned in my search for her, but it is all to no avail. Finally I must give in to my darkest nightmare: my beloved has been stolen away.
I return to my kneeling position and stare at nothing, caught somewhere between disbelief and sorrow. Then something inside me snaps. I begin to weep bitterly. Tears of anguish pour from my eyes, and deep sobs wrench my very soul. Chill blasts envelope me from the open abode before me, and it seems only fitting. I am sure that never before and never again will I feel so broken.
Finally my well of tears runs dry and all that's left for me is to stare numbly at the place where my beloved should have been. My mind wanders in blissful memories of her, and for just an instant the nightmare fades. I remember leaning near to my love when we first met and filling my nose with her enchanting perfume. For just an instant I again smell the sweet cinnamon and vanilla. The memory feels so real that my eyes fly open and my heart nearly stops. Could it be that my beloved is yet before me? But it is a cruel trick of my mind, for I again awake to the nightmare of my beloved's absence.
Anger wells within me, and I vow that I will not be satisfied till I bring justice to the one who took and despoiled my love. Deep down, though, I know that such is a hopeless quest. Something inside me whispers that the one I love has been consumed, and her killer will never reveal himself. Justice is beyond my power to give. The righteous anger in my heart will never be fulfilled.
Some will say that I will learn to love again; others will say that I will heal in time; but I know they are wrong. I bow my head in utter defeat and wonder if life is worth the living anymore.
"I will never love again," I whisper.
Hours pass like minutes, and finally I rise to my feet with hollow resolve. My hand quivers slightly, but I reach out and close the white door to the empty abode. The bang of the door closing rings the last tragic note to a love song that will never be finished.
I turn away and walk towards my room, ready to bury my grief in sleep, but my dad meets me in the hallway. He instantly knows something is wrong, for such is the nature of a loving father. He places a hand on my shoulder and looks deeply into my eyes.
"Kyle, what is wrong?"
My throat seems suddenly constricted, and tears well up in my eyes. I can only whisper the words, and they break my heart anew. "Someone has eaten the last piece of apple pie."
Hi, blog followers! Where in the world did I get the inspiration for this post? Well, two things, I guess. The first is that as I was looking through my files of stories, I realized just how many genres I had already tackled. Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Historical Fiction, Action-Adventure, my political views expounded through a story--you name it, I have written it. Except for the genre of Romance. I needed to fix this, obviously.
The second inspiration came as I was saying goodnight to my mom one night. My dad was at an elder's meeting, so of course the women of the household had out-voted my brothers and I as to what we were going to watch that night. A chick flick was slogging along on our projector screen, and after the main character suffered her devastating heartbreak over a break-up with her beloved, I had finally had enough. I decided that sleep was better than this typical romance.
My mom, though, couldn't help but tease me as I said goodnight. "Come on, Kyle, you're going to bed? Where's your sense of romance?"
Well, here it is.
Oh, and as you can see, I have found a new love.
|And we lived happily ever after, to the end of our days (etc. etc.)|