WARNING: Love story/ short story. I just had to write one, to see if I could or not
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A deer may glide over bushes and loam of a forest, curving and hopping and flying silently; gracefully through the lucid air. Butterflies glitter their wings in the light, as shafts of bright arrows stab the ground softly, gently, like a rock dropped onto the plush sheet of a bed. That's what I feel when I see her.
I saw her on the cart, first, the most beautiful star that could have fallen from the heavens to land radiantly by my side. Why was she there? It seemed too demeaning of a princess, of a queen, to ride this lowly laborer's cart. I tried to make small talk. She turned towards me, her hair landing around her shoulders perfectly like the meticulous placement of a rook by a master chessman. And I could say nothing but checkmate. At least, I hoped. Her voice was like a new morning, of the sun rising above the drab peaks of the snowy mountains. Everyone around her were the drab peaks. She was the rising sun. And right now, I hoped the sun wouldn't set.
As she talked, she saw me with her beautiful brown eyes, matching almost coincidentally with her brownish-red hair. How perfect. Her eyes; have you ever stared at a diamond in the sun, up close? I have. And I had hardly a penny to my name. This was like being in the treasury of the kingdom.
I made her laugh. I loved that laugh, such a sweet one that rang like a bell. And she smiled, a sunset smile, the smile that a deep woods pond does as a rainbow trout skims near it's surface, and the light of the moon makes it shine like a fantasy.
So much more to describe. I loved her from the start. But I had to leave, it was my stop, where I worked and toiled as I should in manual labor, but I would imagine it was for her. And when my friends asked who I liked during scant breaks while we gossiped, I told them, proudly.
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A deer may glide over bushes and loam of a forest, curving and hopping and flying silently; gracefully through the lucid air. Butterflies glitter their wings in the light, as shafts of bright arrows stab the ground softly, gently, like a rock dropped onto the plush sheet of a bed. That's what I feel when I see her.
I saw her on the cart, first, the most beautiful star that could have fallen from the heavens to land radiantly by my side. Why was she there? It seemed too demeaning of a princess, of a queen, to ride this lowly laborer's cart. I tried to make small talk. She turned towards me, her hair landing around her shoulders perfectly like the meticulous placement of a rook by a master chessman. And I could say nothing but checkmate. At least, I hoped. Her voice was like a new morning, of the sun rising above the drab peaks of the snowy mountains. Everyone around her were the drab peaks. She was the rising sun. And right now, I hoped the sun wouldn't set.
As she talked, she saw me with her beautiful brown eyes, matching almost coincidentally with her brownish-red hair. How perfect. Her eyes; have you ever stared at a diamond in the sun, up close? I have. And I had hardly a penny to my name. This was like being in the treasury of the kingdom.
I made her laugh. I loved that laugh, such a sweet one that rang like a bell. And she smiled, a sunset smile, the smile that a deep woods pond does as a rainbow trout skims near it's surface, and the light of the moon makes it shine like a fantasy.
So much more to describe. I loved her from the start. But I had to leave, it was my stop, where I worked and toiled as I should in manual labor, but I would imagine it was for her. And when my friends asked who I liked during scant breaks while we gossiped, I told them, proudly.
11-May-2011 04:11:51 - Last edited on 27-Aug-2011 14:07:39 by MrDuelist