Portrait of a Swallow

Green Meadow

As he lays in bed at night, he ruminates over the day's events. The unexpected maiden, whose eyes shine like crescent moons, is seared in his mind. But what plays on an eternal loop in the ever-observant eyes of the quiet painter is the slight flinch in regards to his hand, the unforeseen recoil resulting from his attempted consolation.

He examines his hand in the moonlight, the rough texture of his palms, his long fingers, the tributaries of veins that outlined through the taut flesh. The streaming luminescence from the window highlights the delicate nature of his painter hand, but where there is light, there is simultaneously also darkness, the shadows of his form printed against the wall in a menacing manner.

Curling his hand into a fist, he chastises himself for being so forward, admonishing himself that he could make the innocent maiden feel exposed on her first day, but then counters the haunted look in her eye begged him for comfort. Still, he promises to himself and to her to provide her the security she needs. He sighs, exhausted from his own introspection, the ceaseless stream of consciousness that only fades when he paints, and hence he tries to find slumber, though when he closes his eyes, through the utter obscurity of the dark, all he sees is her....

***

Present

The field was misty, the morning dew clouding the lush green earth around him. It was quiet, save for the gentle shuffle of cattle around him, the dull ringing of the bell around their necks punctuating the silence around him. He was dressed in his dark overcoat, the hem barely grazing the earth below him, his boots muddied completely. Marching through the field, he tries to gather his bearings, he could tell he was near the home, but where exactly? It was only when he saw that tree, the one with the crooked branches, that he knew.

She was there, leaning against the wooden trunk, as she usually did in between chores, her hair loose from her usual bun. Her eyes were closed, basking in the warm glow of the sun, inhaling the crisp air of the field. It was as if his feet had a mind of its own, moving towards her, her gravity pulling him with a magnetic force so strong he wasn't even sure his feet touched the ground. He tried to be quiet, so as not to disturb her peaceful visage, to take the solitude and observe the way her features were perfect in stillness. All good things must come to an end, though, and with an unforeseen snap of a branch below him, her eyes shoot open. But of course, she knows who it is, her eyes already curling into a teasing glint before she says

"I see you've finally found me," her face finally turning to his, her doe eyes shining in laughter.

He had missed her laughter, the melody ringing in his ears when he was reminded of her, illuminating his tranquil life, painting it with colors that dulled compared to the arsenal he was accustomed to.

He approached her carefully, making certain he wouldn't startle her, but as he closed the distance between his, merely inches apart, he allowed himself to take in her beauty, from the soft slope of her nose, to the fullness of her lips. A small smile blooms on his face as he watches her, marveling as she watches her innocent features contort into pure bliss. He reaches forward and tucks a stray hair behind her ear, feeling the silky strands of her lustrous hair beneath his fingers, before brushing a thumb across her cheek bones. She relaxes slightly, her eyes curling into those beautiful crescent moons, the ones that set his soul aflame.

Slowly, though, her features begin to change, her eyebrows furrowing slightly, her lips set to a sorrowful pout, her eyes holding an infinite pool of sadness in which he would surely drown. She brings up a hand to his cheek, causing his eyes to flutter shut, leaning heavily into the comforting embrace of her soft palm and in a strained whisper, she says

"What took you so long?"

A large thud is heard before his eyes shoot open; his breathing shallow and rapid as he tries to regain awareness of his surroundings. He realizes he's in his bedroom, his heart racing at an unnatural rate, the perspiration soaking through his clothes. He tries to close his eyes once again, tries to bring himself back to that field, tries to memorize her features once more as he runs his fingers through her hair, but it's no use, his valiant attempts completely and utterly futile, for once again, she is gone.