Cocos And More

02. In Our Backyard (Winning Entry)

14.02.2022

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#WattpadShortStory Challenge

Bite-sized Love — Buffet Day 12: Favorite Season — Write a love story that is related to your favorite season.

WINNING ENTRY:)

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It was raining out in the open. Nature was showing its colors when you spun me on my heels and grabbed me by my waist just in time to drop me gently towards the ground with your eyes locked on mine. And time was caught by the beating of our hearts, as they stopped just for a second, craving us to tear apart souls. I wish moments lasted longer than they did last night, as we danced dripping wet in the rain, my dress getting heavier as it soaked.

Hours passed, easy with our heartbeats in syne, the rustling of leaves against the wind and the sweet whistling as the water dropped to the grass, didn't let us down. The rhythm of the violin played in my ears as you stroked back my wet hair and I tightened my hands around your tough waist. The piano dropped her keys as you quoted Shakespeare over and over again: 'I love thee with a love that shall not die, till the sun grows cold, And the stars grow old.'

I still feel my heart light up to the reminiscence of your touch as I felt the chords of the piano raise to match the pace of the fastening mizzle. That night gave me a promise of forever in a numbered of days. I can play that memory on repeat like my favorite song over a thousand times, and yet not be tired of that weird feeling in my chest, light and ticklish, remaining as a reminder to my heart, that it has been beating on passion: thrashing only to the taste of your name on the tip of my tongue.

No, you're not gone, not wholly. There still are remnants of yourself the soil failed to consume. They were greater, heavier than the whole. Because scientists may not understand, we are born with less than we make ourselves. We are born with a biological heart. But there is a heart we make at the homes of our people.

We build it with time, here, over our relationships, and surroundings with love, and hate. Not blood and waste. So when we die, there is a part of us left behind, carried away into others, making it a part of theirs. You see, our heart built on memories and feelings, love and hate, first times and goodbyes, shall always stay where it was born and raised.

Where? In the hearts of our people.

So, you're not lost. You're alive, in me, and in the midst of rain drizzling in our backyard. 

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Word Count: 421
Brooklyn<3