At The Gazebo

Chapter 1: From The Window

It was a pleasant summer night, the air being not too warm and neither too chilly. The greens of the nature bloomed and the vibrant flowers danced sweetly, much like the occupants of the Lincoln mansion at the ball of that evening.

The atmosphere was just the perfect one for the lovesick lads and bonnie lasses to excuse themselves and spend some private time in the gardens, hidden away from the society's eyes. To whisper secrets, to giggle and laugh, to make promises or to just simply spend time in each other's dear company.

Many as such were there indeed: few were quite innocent of this vilesome world, few were fools enchanted by just the beauty of their partners, few were there who merely had their mind made up for selfish reasons and finally there were few indeed, having an evil mind with an equally evil history.

All such couples, no matter in which category they fell into, made a charming picture in the gardens of the great Lincoln mansion. The silks and diamonds that adored every aspect of their form and the grace in which they carried themselves about, only added to their lofty beauty.

But even amongst this chaos of pretty couples, only those couples stood out who were genuine in their feelings and innocent in their hearts. For, the adoration and love they had for each other was quite apparent in their eyes, as they looked at each other in the sweetest of manners. It was clear that only these couples did not care about the perception of others, therefore, making them naturally at ease.

As hundreds of such stories of lives-belonging to the many people present and playing their respective roles-went on, the story of our interest took its place right in the midst of them.

Gazing at them with wistful eyes from a window in the ballroom, stood a gentleman in his mid-forties. His face bore such handsome features and his form manifested such a manly strength, that even at this very not young age, many o' the belles happily lured around him, swinging their hips a tad more to perhaps catch his attention.

After all, what was he not? A man with far stretching lands and a great influence. A man whose stories of intellect and prudence were a regular swing in every corner of any gathering.

It was perhaps his audacity that allured many, for he had taken many risky paths that none of his peers had ever dreamt to have taken, to be where he proudly stood now.

Then came his jovial and lighthearted nature that made him stand out everywhere he went. He was known, amongst his friends and acquaintances as the extroverted light of the gatherings. Someone who banishes the darkness by their presence.

What many, nah, all of them did not know was of the man he bore behind those carefree masks of his. Of the struggles with which he had spent his days and nights to reach his current standing.

And what certainly no one knew of, was about something secured within the bars of his chest, that was bruised and aching...

~

A/N
I have no hopes for anybody to read this dear little story of mine, but have published it as a consolation to its bruised little heart. It was rather angry at having to merely collect dust in my docs shelf.

But by any chance you've come across this book and decided to read it, Hello! Have a wonderful read. And do tell me all about it ;)