How do we know right from wrong?If there were no laws and humans lived the way they pleased, would we still know what's wrong?
Conscience.
How do we become so infatuated with someone that you risk your life for them? How can a such a feeling lead us to the slaughter?
I met him in an unusual way.
"Emma, dear, don't you think it's a bit cold out?" my mum had told me when she noticed me leaving the house, sketch book in hand.
My grey sweater sleeves reached my knuckles and was worn on the cuffs from my hands gripping the closely knit material.
"I'm fine, Mum. I shouldn't be long."
I left the house with a sigh of relief. Drawing was my escape. Of course, I really had nothing to escape from. I had a great at home life and four younger siblings that kept me laughing.
Sometimes I felt drowned out by the noise and the word 'love' tossed mindlessly throughout everyday conversation. I could disappear and no one would notice until I was needed to help with the kids. My life was an endless crazy mess and though there were six of us, I was alone in my own home.
I arrived at my normal spot in the park, under a giant oak tree. Pulling my knees up and resting my sketch book on my thighs, like an easel, I glanced up and noticed the grey clouds covering the sky. Not a bit of blue broke through the colorless mass.
Something caught my eye.
A young boy sat at one of the picnic tables, book in hand and eyes scanning back and forth over the torn and yellowing pages.
His fringe covered most of his face from where I was sitting and his scarf wrapped around his neck and tucked into his black jacket.
My pencil found it's way to the blank page and I began to draw the boy. Something about him was strange. Why would a boy be in the park reading a book when it was this cold out?
He glanced up from his book and his blue eyes met with mine. His face remained expressionless. What was he thinking?
He glanced down at my knees and it occurred to me that he couldn't see what I was doing. Confusion crossed his face and I smiled, waving slightly. He quickly went back to his book, his red cheeks becoming more apparent.
Should I talk to him? Or would we remain strangers and I would only remember him as the strange boy in the park?
He closed his book and stood up. I tried to finish my sketch quickly so I wouldn't forget what he looked like.
He walked away and I silently prayed he'd come back.
"What are you-?" I gasped and turned around quickly, noticing the boy looking over my shoulder.
I closed my book quickly. "I was just drawing."
"May I?" he reached his hand out, gesturing toward the book. I hesitantly handed him the thick, brown leather covered book. "These are amazing. You drew them?" he asked.
I nodded. He flipped to the last page and my heart skipped. His smile widened and he glanced up from over the book. "Y-you drew me? Is that why you kept staring at me so intently?"
"Oh! I'm sorry. Is that not okay? I understand. I should have asked first." I stood up quickly, noticing that I was quite short compared to his tall thin figure.
"No..it...it's perfect. I'm Luke." he extended his hand and I shook it.
Something about his smile made me smile.
"Emma."
A/N
So I started a prequel to show a bit of Luke and Emma's relationship!!!
This will also show Luke's POV when he meets Reina!
I hope you enjoy this short story!
Love love love
Tell me if you like the idea!!
YOU ARE READING
Emma (A Prequel/Short Story)
Short StoryYears before Luke met Reina, there was Emma. You know the story of Emma's death, but what made her so unforgettable to that strange boy that moved in next door? (A prequel story to Skinny Love and Luke's life before he met Reina)