concept

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
MY FRIENDS!!!! I haven't been around and I apologize!! I've had a huge art exam and a psychology exam to stress about so haven't really had much time to write - this took me like three months in between stress and anxiety so be nice to me!

Submitted: March 08, 2017

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Submitted: March 08, 2017

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Concept: it is many years in the future. We live in a cabin in the mountains, far from the village below, and I spend my summer days painting the views of the forests and the lakes. You spend your days at the market selling the wooden animals you carved with the knife your father gave you. Every morning you wake at sunrise and wave to me from the doorway of our bedroom and you walk for three hours to get there. Sometimes, rarely, I go with you.

In the winter, my hair fades to a silvery blue and you find our kindle, feeding the deer and the badgers as you go. They follow you back home more often than not and I endlessly tease you about how you’re becoming Snow White. You nudge my shoulder and kiss my cheek and ask if that makes me your Prince Charming. I laugh and say that it does. The winter sun glints off of your irises and my fingers twitch with the need to immortalize the image. In the evenings, we sit together on the couch in a huddle before the fire and we read our favorite books to one another. You always pick Harry Potter and can recite each word without having to turn a page.

Every month, I go into the village and I take my very best paintings with me – I keep the ones of you in our bed a secret and you blush whenever you see them. I spend an extra hour in the market and I try to find the perfect gift for you. I come across a stall where an elderly woman is selling handcrafted jewelry and I find a beaded bracelet. It’s entirely yellow. Different shades and different shaped beads, but entirely perfect for you. I ask the woman if she’d wrap it up for me and she smiles and asks if it is a present for my ray of sunlight. I nod and hide a smile.

When I get back home, you are in the forest tending to an injured squirrel. I know better than to try and see if I can get you to eat so I head into the house and settle down with my worn paperback copy of Lord of the Flies and your gift. I can hear you singing gently to the animals as the sun goes down and I smile. This peace has never been so coveted. I know that when it’s late and the moon is shining high in the sky above the mountain tips and the owls are hooting in the surrounding forest, you will slip into bed with me and press your ice cold toes against my shins and I will startle awake. I’ll give you your gift then, in the dark with only the moonlight creeping in through the slats in the blinds and the rain glossing slowly down the big wall window. Our bodies illuminated in this one beam of light, the quiet solitude of our aching love and your brilliant smile. My fingers will count the spaces between your ribs and you’ll lie back with your hair fanning out on the pillow behind you, the shadows on the fine boning of your face.

 

These our bodies, possessed by light- 


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