The Manuscript

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Rejection leads to discovery

It was in the gentle glow of springtime that I discovered my one true love walking silently across the uneven sand.  Mysterious and alluring, she possessed a warmth behind her smile that could inspire my heart and stir my imagination.  Unlike anyone I had ever known, she had a way of bringing out the very best that was within me.  Whenever I looked at her it was as though I saw my deepest desires looking back, shining brightly in her eyes.  She saw me not as I was known to the rest of the world, a failing author, flawed and eminently unsuccessful, but as the brilliant young novelist whom I was struggling to become, and more than anything else I adored her for that.

 

Together we whiled away the summer of our youths in the comfort of each other’s arms, and as love grew bolder I longed to show her a world filled with ambition.  “If only others could see you as I do,” I explained during our long romantic walks, “they too would be touched by your kindness, healed by your compassion, inspired by your beauty.  If others could see you as I do, they would discover the goodness that is locked away within their own hearts, and the world would be a better place.”

 

As autumn breezes filled the air I knew that the day had arrived for me to introduce a welcome and ready world to the stunning radiance of my love.  With hopes high, and expectations firm, I cradled her tender hand gently in mine and excitedly walked her to her first doorstep.  “Good afternoon,” I said firmly, enthusiastically.  “I would very much like to present to you the love for which I have been searching my entire life.  I am confident that once you meet her, you too will discover all the wonders of the universe that lie before you.  I’m sure that she will move and inspire you, as she has moved and inspired me.”

 

With the dispassionate look of minor annoyance came the polite, autonomic response. “I’m sorry,” said the target of our search, “but we are terribly busy, and although I’m sure that your love is wonderful and charming, she just isn’t right for us at this time.”

 

Unfazed, I took my true love by the hand, walked her to the next doorstep and repeated my introduction.  “Good afternoon, I would very much like to present to you the love for which I have been searching my entire life.”

 

Again came the standard response, always polite, but always the same. “I’m sorry, but we are terribly busy...”

 

In time, two doorsteps became ten, and ten doorsteps became twenty, and as months passed and precious dreams slowly turned to vague recollections of a time long ago, I began to realize that, try as I might, the world could never see her as I did.  I slowly began to understand that the world could not love her.

 

…Now, as the merciless grip of winter encroaches, and darkness settles over the lost horizon of my ambitions, I must turn to my one true love and explain why the world I once offered as my greatest gift has turned her away.  I must look into the innocence of her trusting eyes and make her understand why she has been relegated to an eternity in that nameless expanse of wasted effort and youthful foolishness, never to be appreciated, never to be loved.

 

But before I can speak, my love reaches out her hand, touches me softly on the cheek, and smiles.  “Don’t be sad.” she says softly, sensing the distant sorrow tearing at the foundations of my heart.  “I care not for Earthly pursuits.  Even if I never again feel the loving warmth of a dreamer’s eyes bestowing in me a life unending, it will all have been worthwhile.  …Don’t you understand?” she asks tenderly.  “But it's so simple.  Oh, my precious love, it is enough to have been loved by you.”


Submitted: April 10, 2019

© Copyright 2022 Glen Donald. All rights reserved.

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