Love: A Universal Short Story

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short rendition of love, and what it means in the complexity of the universe. The stars tell all.

Submitted: May 17, 2010

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Submitted: May 17, 2010

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Love

A Short Story

A beautiful sunset filtered through the sky, a mixture of blue and red that seemed to be a message from the universe itself, one that couldn’t be understood through meaning, but one that could only be surmised by ones distant eyes and breathless heart. It was an enchanting piece of poetry that had been hung in the sky, a complex mosaic of art that rendered a helpless gaze.

It was perfection.

As the sunset faded the stars began to unveil themselves, almost like they were the maestros of the magical artwork now coming to receive their applause. They peeked through the dark mist that covered the sky like fireflies of the night, sprinkling an age old light onto the young, restless world. Some were bigger than others, some were planets, some man-made, some not from the world at all. It was a sight that was benevolent only because it ousted itself from the perception of the ground, from the angle of the earth, propelling its awe and mystique into a whole another dimension of both knowledge and truth.

It was inspiring.

A shooting star streaked across the sky, its material falling into the protective shield of earth, its body breaking into a thousand different particles and casting a spiralling glow onto the world below. It was the sunset’s falling maestro, perhaps his final act of godsend, a worthy and appropriate beautiful deed. As the night progressed, and more fell from their eternal place, a general consensus would spread below – the beauty of the maker is just as great as the maker’s beauty.

It was truthful.

Finally the moon began to awake and rise into its rightful spot. It suddenly became the king of the night, its juxtaposing beauty no match for maestros and their creations, no match for the suicidal dives of the creators themselves. It became the arrogant and pompous beauty that shines forevermore the brightest, always knowing its light will inspire, will invigorate. And it was fitting in the most intelligent regard. Its beauty came from the world of the day, from the bright rays of the incredible sun, and so its beauty was more of a borrowed beauty, and its superior nature really a hypocrite one, one that was false and true all the same. This borrowed elegance made it even more beautiful, a shared deity of the gods.

It was mesmerizing.

The night began to fade away into morning and the true king returned. The sun began to raise, its presence the welcoming of a new day and the promise that a new night – with all its maestros, poetry and beauty – would return. And as the sun rose, as its rays broke through the dark mist, as it enveloped the land with a thousands spectrum's of lights, as it did all this it stayed true to one simple fact - that all this was beautiful because it was able to be seen as beautiful. Its viewers the one thing that made its purpose complete, the balance that kept the bay of the beauty, and the beauty at bay. And so it was fitting, as that new light cracked onto the faces of two individuals, that the real beauty wasn’t any of these things. The real beauty, after the sunset, stars, moon, and sunrise, was the one that was always right in front.

The man turned to the girl next to him. His eyes were tired, and heavy, dark circles finally illuminated by the sunlight; his body sore and stiff, his face quiet and calm.

“You know,” he began in a slow whisper, not daring to break a silent beauty that had surrounded them. “After the night we have seen, after the countless beauties we have witnessed, there is still only one true thing I find beautiful.”

A smile crept onto the girls face. She knew what was to come, and it broke her heart – or maybe mended it – to think that she was greater then the wonders of the universe.

She, in the smallest whisper she could muster, said: “And what is that?”

As the sun rose above the horizon it amplified in strength, lighting up the girls face like it knew what the truth was all along.

The man smiled. “The most beautiful thing in the entire world is you,” he said in a breathless voice.

The day would carry on, the sun would continue to rise and set, its sunset still a wonder of the world, the stars that followed still those guardians of the night, and the moon still the arrogant friend of shared beauty. But it was in those few seconds that the truth finally revealed itself – that the real incredible thing about the universe was not all of its tangibles, but its intangibles. It was of two people in a moment of serenity understanding a thought that should be heard around the world.

It was love.


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