Thoughts Left Behind

Muse (Historical/Romance-ish)

*Historical/Romance-ish*

"What are you looking at, Jeffrey?" She sighed, turning to the boy nearby. Her basket full of flowers that matched her floral crown in her arms, a mix of purples, yellows, and pinks.

There was smoke in the air from the bonfires littering the village and dust from all the traffic on the paths, highlighting her fiery Irish hair.

"Just hold still, please. For like, ten minutes." He begged, his sketchbook in front of his face, charcoal to the paper.

"Jeffrey," she groaned, "I have to help with the preparations for the celebration!" She argued but couldn't keep the small smile off her face.

The other girls walked past, easily ignoring the misfits of the village. All of them had remarkable flower crowns crafted to perfection and baskets with the best flowers in the meadow.

None of them stopped to pay the two of them any heed. The most recognition they received were disdainful looks and whispers.

They weren't very popular with the other children, only finding solace in each other's company.

"Just stop moving, Em." He ordered. She couldn't see his face behind his sketchbook aside from the few times he would peer over the top to inspect her or her surroundings.

She giggled and shifted her basket to a more comfortable position as he mumbled to himself about shadows. She took a strand of her red hair between her fingers, something she did for comfort.

Her basket was now set nicely on her hip.

As the minutes stretched on a curious look drifted onto her face and soon began to fidget, moving her basket to her stomach and rocking back and forth as she fiddled with her hair.

"Oh come on, Emily! Stop moving!"

"I know, Jeffrey!" She stopped moving, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment and guilt. She didn't want to ruin his picture with her constant movement. "I'm sorry! It's hard not to move. This basket is heavy and you're taking forever!" She exclaimed.

Laughter bubbled up her throat as his head popped over the top of his sketchbook once again to send her a glare.

She took in his scruffy brown hair and feminine features. He was so skinny too, not nearly strong enough for the work the adults put him up to. And with the festival coming around they had all the children pitching in, on top of their chores.

His big round glasses really set his appearance together, giving him a very youthful look.

Well, they were still fairly young, about twelve summers old, but Emily felt as though his youth would stay with him throughout the years.

"Alright, I'm done." He announced, snapping his book closed and tucking his charcoal under the cover.

"Ooh let me see, please?" She begged, a smile lighting her face.

"No, Em," he teased, "you don't get to see it."

She pouted immediately, he always let her see his artwork and to her, it was always beyond remarkable.

"Why not?" She asked, moving her basket to the other hip. By now all the other children had passed by, leaving the two of them by the forest at the edge of the village.

"Is it because I was moving too much?" Worry etched into her words as well as her face. Did he mess up? Was it her fault?

He smiled at her worry before responding.

"Because," he dragged on, "we need to help prepare, do we not?" He asked, throwing her words back at her.

Jeffrey laughed at the dirty expression she shot at him.

"But no, Emily. You will not get to see my work quite yet because it is too beautiful for me to share."

"Oh? Have you improved that much?" She wondered. He spent most of his spare time practicing in his sketchbooks so he could get better. Emily thought his art was marvelous but he was always bashing on himself. 'Always room for improvement' as he always said.

"No, it's not better than any other time I've drawn. It's not the artwork that's remarkable, Em, it was my muse." With that comment he took off into the village, looking for his father for more instructions, leaving a surprised Emily behind.

Her mouth was open in shock, a soft blush creeping on her cheeks as she processed his words. They warmed her heart.

A smile spread across her pink lips as she finally came to terms with what Jeffrey had said.

"Emily! Where are you? Did you run off again?" The exasperated tone of her mother searching once again for her drew her out of her daze.

"Coming, mother!" She called, joy evident in her voice. With a skip in her step she went off in the direction of her mother with her basket in hand.

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Hey I hope you enjoyed . . . yada yada yada . . . the same usual talk.

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What is your favourite story so far? Are there any I should continue?

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