Pete was half way up the steps with his motorbike helmet tucked under his arm. He glanced back and waited for Jen. Jen struggled with the chinstrap on her helmet and he moved back to her and unfastened it. Jen lifted the helmet off and self-consciously touched her hair. Pete leaned close and whispered in her ear, Jen blushed and Pete grinned.
The streets were bare, not even a fearless cat stalked the highway of fences and walls that stretched across town. Nobody peered through windows but instead hid behind a heavy curtain or beneath a duvet’s shroud.
The moon struggled to shine through the dense cloud and even candles fought to stay alight in the damp, cold gloom.
Night had fallen, days ago, her velvet indigo stretching her blanket across the world and the talk, the wonder, the fascination with the unusual was now gone replaced by quiet fear.
Night’s talons now pinned the earth in its place and she had no intentions of letting go…
She crouched uncomfortably on her knee, resting against the cot, its bars now imprinted on her cheek, one hand gently stroking soft baby hair and her finger tightly embraced within her baby’s tiny fist.
Her son’s thumb had found its way into his mouth and a quiet suckling broke the silence in the dark.
She held her breath and very, very delicately extricated her finger from his sleeping grasp, then slid her arms out through the bars as carefully as if they were laser beams, and slowly, very slowly rose to her feet.
Her creaking knees made her grimace and pause for a split second as the crunch echoed throughout the exhausted corridors of her mind, but she backed cautiously out of the room and pulled the bedroom door to.
She barely breathed as her ears listened for the tiniest of sounds, and as silence reigned she softly let out her breath and punched the air!
When he got down on one knee – in the balloon – I grinned, this was it, this beat anything he’d tried before, the mountains rose around us and I grasped my hands together in excitement.
“Will you…will you do me the honour…” he paused and I watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall in a huge gulp and this time I felt his pain, all the times I’d said no came streaming back and I felt genuine sorrow for the many times I’d hurt him in rejection.
I joined him on my knees and took his hands in mine, and the basket embraced us hiding all the grandeur.
I no longer needed the mountains, or the vista, or even the damned balloon, all I needed was him.
“Yes,” I didn’t need to hear the question this time, “Yes, yes, yes, I’ll marry you!” and this time his smile meant more to me than the highest mountain, more to me than anything.
Visual Dare #15: Above:
When I went down on one knee, I managed to squeeze out the words, “Will you…will you do me the honour…” I swallowed hard not sure whether another rejection was even bearable at this height. I stared into her eyes trying to will the proposal to leave my dry throat, but she sank to her knees and grabbed my hands, and suddenly I saw what I’d been searching for this whole time. The love in her eyes shone as she accepted and my reflection in her eyes was more beautiful than all the mountains reflecting in the lake below. “Yes.”
(100 Words)
He watched as she leaned nonchalantly against his blue, wooden box, a smile playing on her crimson lips as she listened, and he unwittingly ran his fingers through his dishevelled hair, “It’s just that I had it in my head that our meeting would be patriotic…the Ood prophecy was always in my mind when I thought of what, sorry, who you would be, and that white, military coat of yours,” he reached forward and tapped one of her smart, silver buttons, “will suffice, and you’re leaning against the bluest thing here…”
Her smile grew wider as she felt the Tardis, warm against her back.
“But red, we have nothing red, nothing to achieve the patriotic trio, red, white and blue!” he paused and sighed, “nothing red.”
Her grin broadened, “Ask me, Doctor…ask me my name.”
His shoulders rose questioningly as did his eyebrows and she placed a finger delicately on his lips, “I’m Scarlett.”
My heart pounds and the pit that was once my stomach is now a void filled with roiling dread and churning fear. My throat is as dry as gunpowder. Tremors find their way into my cold, clenched hands and fingernails carve crescents into the base of my palms. Irregular breaths and heart-beats compound my panic, and my legs threaten to give ignoring my desperate need to flee, and a seething black ball of tension swallows my mind, and the voices urge me to bolt, to run, to abscond before my entire being implodes…
My eyes dart, searching for escape, but every route is blocked and she approaches, that gaze of concern etched upon her features…and before she has a chance to ask, I reply with a smile worthy of the stage, “I’m fine.”
The word for Five Sentence Fiction this week is: Pirates and if anyone remembers my Faerypin entry: Waiting, (Please read for full story) they’ll know there’s a pirate story still to be told: This is the conclusion…
His ring gently clinked, an almost unnoticeable sound against the rich, heavy beat of music, as he rotated the glass and studied the incoming crop of sniggering girls, all short skirts and boozy noise and his lip rose in a lazy sneer as he shook his head about to turn away from the brash invasion, but the last girl squeezing apologetically through the door caught his eye.
She quickly followed the gaggle of limbs and peroxide almost as if she was an afterthought, and she carefully pulled up a chair, sitting slightly to one side unconsciously stretching her skirt down over her knees and staring intently at her cultivated nails.
He watched the drinks arrive and the girls gather to leer at the waiter, pinching his seasoned rump and disregarding his tired protest, but from his vantage point at the bar he noted her discomfort and allowed a smile.
He ignored the flirtations and plumped-up pouts, thrusting cleavage bursting out of bra-tops and bare thighs advertising their wares, these offerings were not for his harvest.
Her lips were full and unpainted, hair the natural shade of corn, her eyes bright and sober, and her breast firm and ripe beneath her shirt where only a tiny tease of pink lace revealed itself, blooming like a lost flower against her flesh and he knew…he knew she was the one.
The sky is the same colour as velvet, dark delphiniums, Mum keeps telling me it’s bedtime, but I’m spinning, round and round and round…and I’m never going to bed!
I’m dizzy, really dizzy, dizzy and fizzy, my limbs are tripping over each other and my head is rolling so much my eyes can’t keep up!
I stop and my hands fly out to balance, and I giggle and she’s there…I stare.
I’ve never seen one before; she stares back her eyes as wide as the rising moon behind us and surprise shining like glitter.
She can’t move, I can’t move, our eyes are locked and there’s nothing we can do until Mum calls again and the spell is undone, and I snap my wings together and flit off into the night, leaving the little human girl wondering who I was…
The Last Krystallos 