Promises Unkept

Cost of Loving.

It was a week after the fairy had fallen away from the fable.

The legend now headed without a prodigy.

To say that things had reinstated back in order would be utter imprudence plainly, but nor had everything remained so dejected anymore.

Moved on the days of the year.

Things started to happen.

That’s how life maneuvered.

Like a river, which when obstructed, changes its course_ never impedes, never disseminates; it goes on, finds another way, recommences its torrent, turgid it may be at first but determined no less, if yet obstructed_ grounds a flood, drifts the hindrance away, flows on….never impedes, never stops.

Never disseminates.

Not ever.

Magpie, Beatriz and all like them who left in the middle were the banked up clay, the earthen embanking, equally significant, for a river is nothing without its shore. They sentinel the waterway, they form remembrances. Memories. Lessons.

They school the stream of life to its eventual destiny.

Eden, on this day, sat under an apple tree on the hilltop of Ashleyton, at a spot from where the manor was panoramically visible in all its grandness and glory as she gazed pensively into the sunlit horizon, watching the autumn slip in.

Pie was not far.

A dragonfly had mortally offended the little chubby pup by perching upon its tiny nose and now, Pie was craving with vengeance.

With its wriggling butt up in the air and tail stilled, with its front paws spread out in its front, eye glittering, Pie was about to launch another (unsuccessful) attack on the teasing winged colorful flies.

On the grass beside Eden’s lap lay the book, ‘Dark Horses’ which she had resumed reading for the sake of moral peace and had carried it up here in this hour of leisure.

The book was calming as she had observed after half an hour of thorough reading but then she placed it away fearing that she would fall asleep and waste the beautiful sunny day away.

Above on the branches, a few apple blossoms were visible, in regions where the nature mistook the ambivalence of autumn as the effervescence of spring.

An errant gust of wind brought dust and dry leaves all over her beige gown that Eden brushed off waywardly when she heard a noise behind her.

A noise of feet crushing dry leaves.

She looked over her shoulder and saw Lord Stephen standing by, hands in pockets, watching Pie play with his soft sea green eyes.

Beside his relaxed state, Eden noticed a too obvious lack of his bow-tie and a row of undone flesh from his pectorals that made him look so much more casual in his white shirt on this bright day. The waistcoat and coat were already missing.

He looked as if he was walking in the corridor of his home, which in a way, he really was.

“My lord.” She greeted subtly turning away from him with a sudden flush.

“It did hurt me to be left alone, Eden.” He remarked from behind, as his feet brought him closer to her. “I at least expected an invitation for this lively excursion but found none.”

She couldn’t help but smile at the teasing edges of his voice as she felt him settling beside her on the grass.

“Mrs. Hopkins said you were busy with some formalities and paperwork.” She replied staring at Pie who was now hopping around after a frog. “I didn’t desire to bother you.”