The Three Poets.
- Odsłon 8
- Głosy 1
- Części 1
I wrote this story for a competition just last year. Unfortunately, it didn't receive much of a reply. So I thought "Why on Earth not post it, eh? I'm sure somebody out there might wanna read."
Well, what's it about? It's about a romance that has grown wings. About a love that may soar higher than most clouds can reach. About an intimacy that's softer than the ruffle of a feather or the faint clicking of beaks. About a couple who truly are, as happy as a lark. And about a heartbreak that plummeted faster than a rock might tumble through the sky.
And all in just over two thousand words! Short, sweet, and lighter than a feather. So, without further ado, I proudly present, the tale of The Three Poets. Enjoy!
~Alex
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"Taira. Taira, listen to me. You can't just took something that isn't yours, especially from nature. Especially not while an unknown girl is watching you." "...Why not?" "Taira, there's only one explanation for your sudden color blindness: you're cursed big time." - "Hey, you're not allowed here." A voice said. She did not reply. "Miss, this is a guy's dorm, what are you doing here," said another voice. - " He has got eyes the colour of honey. These eyes, they glare a lot. It shone a glorious brown and look like caramel coated with honey under the sun rays. When these eyes are directed at you, you just can't look away. In crowds, these eyes roll a lot. I don't think he likes crowds very much. " - " It has always been about your voice. One I cannot describe. It have just this nice undertone and slight shiver in it, that make me love hearing your voice. Over and over and over again. I will not get tired of your voice. That shiver in your voice is my symphony, calming me and claiming my attention. That voice that which churns my stomach just listening to your voice calling my name. " - "Why thank you, I can't help but notice this is some sort of compliment, albeit not nearly clear as any other compliment." She acknowledged. "Don't flatter yourself too much. That is merely a fact and a statement." He said, platonically. . . . . // A series of short stories that may or may not be associated with colours. // Unrelated short stories in every title.
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