Beneath the Moon

A story I once wrote, for someone I have loved.

He slowly crept from the room in the front of the house.  He walked as slowly and lightly as possible, yet the floor boards still creaked agonizingly loud into the darkness.  With each footstep his heart pounded harder.  He couldn’t believe what he was about to do.
He passed the darkest room of the house.  He heard them snoring in there.  He hoped that they continued on that way.   He had paused right before the doorway, just as one of them in the room stopped snoring.  His palms grew sweaty as he heard them grunt and move.  He did not know if they had seen him, if they were awakening, or just turned over as a new dream took over their mind.  He wouldn’t move an inch.
Something brushed past his leg.  He nearly yelped.  Then, he saw it was just the cat.  He sighed in relief.  That noise echoed thunderously.  He held his breath.
Slowly, the person in the bedroom began to snore again.  He continued walking through the house.  He made it to the tile floor of the kitchen.  He moved briskly through.  He stopped by the back door.  He lifted his hoody from its hook.  He slid his arms into it and then attended to the door.
He slid the chain from its place-making sure to set it gently against the door frame, and slowly turned the other two locks.  The door made a terrible noise as he slid it slowly open.  Wood scraped against wood and the result was deafening.  He winced and continued on.  He unlatched the screen door and soon found himself on the porch.
A small shaft of moonlight illuminated the darkness.  He fumbled about attempting to slip into the shoes of his.  After much effort, he finally got them tied.  And quickly he slipped from the porch, down the stairs, and into post midnight. 
The moon cast eerie shadows on much of the world, but other things it illuminated in beauty.  The clouds around the moon glowed as filled with an electric passion that the heavens could not contain.
He passed through the garage door, shutting it quietly behind.  He groped about the scattered items to the back door.  He found an old, fairly sturdy bicycle lying against the wall.  The door slowly slid open, as he wheeled the bike out.  He climbed atop the seat and swiftly slid the garage door down.
He placed his feet on the pedals and set out.  He headed out his driveway.  He knew he could get in so much trouble for being out at this hour.  He stuck to side streets, darker places where he would see less people.  He pedaled as fast as he could, still unaware of the moment, still not believing that he was actually going to do this.  The road slid by as he wound his way through the abandoned streets. 
A jet rocketed overhead.  He glanced up for a moment; any clouds in the sky had disappeared.  Pinpoints of light were sprinkled all across the brilliant abyss so many leagues away.
He turned down a familiar street.  This street had so many memories.  He couldn’t even hardly remember where he was.  He was led by memories and futures, not by any sense of direction.  He sped on.  The houses blurred past him, until he saw a familiar mailbox.  He slowed and turned down the driveway.  He abandoned his bike on the pavement and looked up at the window he had searched for.  He examined the ground before him, and realized something.
His big idea had been to throw pebbles at the window, in that romantic 50’s movie kind of way, but there were no pebbles to speak of.  He stood there for several moments gazing up at the window.  Then, he got an idea.  Much less romantic.  But perhaps more effective. 
He walked up to the tree whose leaves shadowed the driveway.  He snapped off a small twig from the tree and broke it up into several smaller pieces.  He began to toss them at the upstairs window that held his quarry.  The first few throws missed, but the latter few hit their marks.  They pinged off the glass of the window.  He prayed it was loud enough for her to hear.
She startled awake.  The room spun around her for a moment.  Then, eventually she remembered what had happened.  She had fallen asleep.  His literature book was still open to the page she had collapsed in.  Then, she realized what had awakened her, as another twig pelted her window.  She set the book on the bed beside her, and pushed herself upward.  Softly, she stepped to the window to investigate. 
Then, she saw where the onslaught of twigs had come from.  She saw him down there.  She could not believe it.  He really did it.  They’d talked about it.  What if?  Never did she think that he’s actually do it one day.  And now it appeared he had.  She crept from the room, past the snoring in her own home.
He thought he saw her in the window for a second.  A faint outline of her face seemed to appear, but then just as quickly it faded.  He must have imagined it.  He sighed.  It wasn’t that great of an idea.  He tossed the twigs on the ground, and painfully turned around.  As he lifted his bike, he thought he heard something.  A whisper on the wind.  It breathed his name.  He turned instinctively.   And there she was, shining in the door way.
The sight of her alone made him tingle all over.
He walked to her and bent his head down to hers.  She whispered the intensity of her love for him.  He responded matching the fire in her heart.  They barely even had to speak.  They knew. 
She pulled her bike from the garage.  And they both biked through the quiet city.  They passed his driveway once more.  His house was still silent.  They both stopped when they reached the path.  They lay their bikes down, and picked their way down the trail through the black and gray trees.
Eventually, the path opened up.  Their feet moved from dirt to sand.  The sand was bathed in white from the moonlight.  Waves crashed upon the sand-black against white-as the wind tossed them against one another.
They walked hand in hand, leaving footprints behind, each step mirroring the other.  The two figures kissed-silhouettes against the horizon.  After several moments, their lips parted.  He lay back in the sand.  She laid down next to him.  He quickly drew her in, until her head rested on his chest.
They stared up at the stars as they listened to the water collapse at their feet.  With each wave that fell, he and she grew closer.  Their bodies melded.  Their hearts joined.  Neither hardly needed to move. 
They spoke a few words into the churning air, entering their ears and swiftly journeying to their souls.
Slowly, the stars faded into darkness as eyelids became heavy.  She pressed her head into his chest, and he wrapped his arm around her.  The fingers from his other hand ran though her hair.  Her breath came slightly quicker, and she drew her hand upon his chest, grazing her nails across it.
They stayed like that for a time that not even the heavens know.  Finally, sleep crept upon them both.  They both lay there.  Beneath the moon.  Dark and light.  Calloused and soft.  Mighty and frail.  But all the while, free, and in love.

Reviews

[lindsay]

I like the story over all. The ending was very beautiful and lovely.

[x]

There is alot in this story. A ton in fact. There is great expression of imagination and considerable effort has been made to give the reader some poetry of scene along with the story, which is appreciated. However...it has a choppy effect when read. The sentences are short and abrupt which takes away from the clear and obvious effort involved. I can see the writer has tried very hard and I don't want to take away from that but considering the effort put into applying detail then I say, expand it out and luxuriate in that effort. The sentences needed more massaging to soften them. It was factual in its presentation even though it was an apparent love scene. Lastly, there was an over use of 'he'. But well done.