I know I should be finishing off 'A Forgotten Beginning' but I got a little sidetracked. I found a website when I was bored that gives you something to put in the start, middle and end of your story so I gave it a go :) Opinions?
Start: A stain glassed window
Middle: A character discovers someone has been writing about them
End: A lion
She was standing there, just standing there when I first laid eyes on her. She was beautiful and dressed all in white. I thought she looked like an angel, looking up at the stained glass window.
A silent tear ran down her cheek. I wanted to run to her but I stayed hidden in the shadows. I regretted that decision.
At that moment a little golden haired boy came running down the hall of the church. He slowed in front of her and her hand passed across her face, like she was moving hair out of her face, before turning to him.
Her smile was thin, her voice soft.
"What is it Rob?"
He stared at her, his blur eyes searching her face intently.
He could sense something was wrong and reached forward to wrap his small arms around her waist. She cuddled him and kissed the top of his head.
They walked hand in hand away from me. The sun casting their shadows towards me.
The women in white and the golden haired boy.
I went home that night and stared at my writing book for a long time. My mind cluttered with ideas and my hand itching to spread ink acorss the blank page... but I didn't know if I could.
I had promised myself I wouldn't. Because it was something my brother used to do and since his death it didn't feel right. It was his dream and I couldn't take that from him when I had alreay taken so much.
I went back to church the next week. I half hoped she wouldn't be there, that maybe my mind had been playing tricks on me.
But she was there, again dressed in white. The golden haired boy at her side.
So that night I couldn't resist the urge. I picked up the pen and wrote, the book soon half filled with endless scribble.
When the sun rose the next morning my hand ached and I felt free. I had discarded part of myself by not writing but the pain of grief sat right beside the joy.
It was weeks before I had the courage to introduce myself. Her beauty was even more breathtaking close up. Her brown hair set in a long side ponytail and her blue eyes alert and friendly.
"Sorry I haven't had a chance to introduce myself. I'm John." I smiled holding out my hand.
"Elisa." She answered, her hand was soft and dainty. "Are you new around here?"
"Not to town but to church, yes."
"Why did you decide to come?"
Her eyes darted across my face. Her tone soothing. She was curious but didn't want to pry and the option to not answer her question was there.
"I have to believe in something."
It was a simple answer but the depth of the words were the truest I had spoken in a very long time. I think she understood because she smiled a sad smile and nodded.
We began talking every week. I learnt that her father had left when she was little and her mother had raised her single handedly. The golden haired boy was her little cousin. He reminded me of a golden retriever, intellegent, loving and always at his best friend's side. He had come to live with her and her mother when his mother, her aunty, had passed away. Her aunty's death was hard on her, they were close practically sisters. She wished to become a teacher.
I told her my story but never my writing. That I wanted to become an author, a poet but that I felt like I couldn't because it was my brothers dream. The words hung unspoken in my mind and filled me with guilt.
"You haven't told me." Elisa said suddenly.
Her hand was warm in mine and ever so slightly sticky from the icecream she had just finished.
"Told you what?"
"What happened to your brother?" She whispered the question.
I stiffened. We had an unspoken agreement between us to not mention the dead. She knew my brother had died and I knew her aunty had died but they were topics untouched. Only thought about in the dead of night when it was okay to cry. There but not there, like passing ghosts.
"I cant..." I finally choked out.
"Why?"
"What about your aunty?" I snapped.
She flinched, like I had slapped her and I felt her pain like an open wound.
"I'm sorry Elisa." I pulled her into the little alley that sat between the pet store and book shop.
I pushed her hair behind her hair and kissed the single tear sliding down her cheek.
I held her face gently and she stared at me with her big sad blue eyes.
"Why won't you tell me?"
I just shook my head.
"Is it to do with your writing?" She asked gently.
I froze, my mouth popping open in a gasp, "How?"
"It was sitting oon your desk and I... I couldn't help myself." She blushed.
I stepped away from her, my back hitting the brick wall but she just moved with me.
"I don't understand. Why didn't you tell me? Your writing is amazing."
"It was hs dream." I whispered looking at the floor.
"What?"
I couldn't lie to her and the words had been pressing on me for so long the words came spilling out with no actual decision of my own.
"He was 13, I was 15. Just a kid. I thought it'd be fun to go for an earlt swim. I convinced him to come, he always came with me. We jumped the train tracks and went down to the seashore. The horizon was getting light and he was getting scared. 'We shouls go back. Mum will be worried.' He said and of course I said he was stupid. Stupid? How could I say that? He lost his footing and the tide was receding. He got dragged out. It was so quick I didn't know. I was terrified. By the time I got there...My little brother. His hand still out streched. The last look I saw was full of hope. He truely believed I could save him. But... I let him down."
My legs had given out and I sat on the ground. The grief washing over me, wreacking havoc on my mind, heart and soul.
Lips pressed against mine and I opened my eyes. Elisa sat on my lap, her face wet with tears. Her eyes filled with sadness and love.
She hugged me. Wrapped me in her embrace, she knew words would not heal this wound and that all she could do was be with me.
"My angel." I spoke into her hair.
"Isn't that the name of one of your poems?"
"Not a title, a name. My angel. My pure, innocent angel. You."
I held her gaze and watched her put the pieces together. Her hand drifted to her heart, unconsiously, and her eyes filled with fresh tears.
"Me?" She gasped. I nodded and wiped under her eyes.
"All in white. Don't be sad."
"No, I'm... That's the most beautiful poem and... you say it's about me."
"About you, to you." I shrugged.
Her arms wrapped back around me and her lips were salty.
"My lion." She whispered.
"What?"
"My brave lion." She said with a kiss.
"You made that up." I mutter against her lips.
"With all my heart and soul." She breathes.
"I love you, Elisa."
"I love you too John."
