The Promise

Was it love?

Love. A short term with a broad meaning. Love can be considered as the feeling of deep emotional attachment to another being. Or the strong affection shared between a pair; but one can easily misunderstand love with lust. But this is not the case in this story, for it is something stronger beyond compare.

In a small town located somewhere in southern London, lived a girl who was the child to a widow. Just like her mother she was tall and slender with the body of a fully matured maiden, she was adored by the the towns men and women around.

When she walked, the men near by would stare at her with lust and desire. She had white skin with a hue of pink on her radiant cheeks, she was beautiful, and so was her heart. Her hair the colour of a raven came down below her shoulders in long, lustrous waves, and to complement her divine features her eyes where the palest grey a man could dream of; almost transparent such as her mind.

She walked down the busy streets of the town with a basket of red glossy apples, she wasn't one to ask her mother for money; for she was aware of her mother's situation- Detached from her husband, Anabelle's mother worked day and night to earn for her daughters Anabelle and Grace -so she sold apples on the third avenue to make enough pocket money to buy her heart's disire; which in this case was a blue fabric, one she wishes to sew into a beautiful dress.

Making money is never easy, as you see the basket is still full with unsold apples. As she walks along the cobblestone pavement she blunders and falls to the floor, her apples scattered around her. She quickly goes to get them all before they roll onto the roads where they will be crushed by wheels or picked by unruly children.

"Do you need help miss?" A dashing young man with auburn hair says, she doesn't look up to see the the man who had offered to help her. He himself was astounded by her, he hadn't seen her face but the way she had walked before she fell caught his interest. He had been in the carriage with his father when his eyes saw, on the other side of the street, a woman with beautiful hair and the body of a seductress, carrying a basket of apples.

His main intentions were to buy the whole lot of apples, so he could get a glimpse of her face and maybe invite her over for dinner. She didn't say anything but with the nodding of her head, he bent down, to where the apples laid and picked the ones rolling towards the road.

Putting them in her basket, he took the liberty to introduce himself and maybe ask for her name in return. This was a small town indeed, in which everyone knew everyone, but why was it that he knew nothing of the fair maiden before him?

"Quite a handful you have here." He says, referring to the apples. She doesn't talk but stands up to dust her mint coloured dress, he stands too. His eyes trained on her, he has been known for his charms, being the mayors son he was also rich and powerful in the town.

"Do you not speak, or are you mute." He means it as a joke of course but she doesn't see it like that. She looks up at him, and he was stung. She was a beauty, her mere sight gave him a warm sensation; but we cannot say the same for Anabelle. Of course she was dazzled by him but his tasteless remark would not go unnoticed.

"Yes, but you are not one to be spoken to." She says, as she reaches down to pick up her basket of apples. Anabelle was a girl of energy and hope, with a little fire in her, she fought for what she believed in, making sure her opinions were recognised, but this sort of nature would get her in trouble some day; at least that's what her mother says.

"So she does speak." He laughs with a clap of his hands, unconsciously she stares at his face while he laughs. He has a straight small nose no bigger than her pinky, his lips plump and a dark shade of pink, his auburn hair was tousled ,thick and curly, nothing like the hair of a respected person.