I've written plenty of stories, each of their own accord, each holding a piece of myself etched between each character's stroke, slightly pressed more for boldness rather than design, but this one was different. This one was something unexpected, but someone once said, "the unexpected moments, are the ones we remember forever, the more spontaneous the better it sewn into our memories." So, when a young man handed me my book during a book signing, I caught my breath, but gazed over his appearance, how could he know this is my book and who is he and what did he want?
Sebastian:
- My name is Sebastian, I supposed you'd like to sign this for me, it's for a dear friend who passed the book on to me for a chance to have your name on it. I explained to my friend Azuneah that you may be too busy, but it seems just the opposite so if you wouldn't mind fancying me an autograph, I would be out of your hair's mam.
Tacenda (POV):
Once he said "mam," I was pulled from a distinct memory stuck in tunnels wrapping around the old bridge, but that mam hit me like a prickly needle one not comforting or taking away anything but numbing the issues at hand and coming to a resolution in my head.
- Call me "Tacenda," I am not as old as I seem to be held with that kind of respect yet, but I appreciate it. So, your friend Azuneah, a beautiful name she has wouldn't you say so?
Sebastian (POV) :
- Yeah, I guess you could say so, she's in college getting her nursing degree, but all she talks about are books and your book was the latest one she was reading but they have a nursing test coming up, so she couldn't make it this one, so I grabbed the book, but as I look around it seems I have grabbed the wrong book, I am so sorry for this.
YOU ARE READING
Bleeding Love
Non-FictionIt was a Friday night when I had spoken to her, brief but to the extent that I could sense that something was wrong when she looked me in my eye's and said "The dead won't be seen until they are ready to be seen", I .......knew it was different this...
