November Part 1

A fantasy inspired short story consisting of several parts. Got the idea from my poem Broken Bride. Not quite sure how it's going to end. Exciting, huh?

 

The door to the balcony was wide open which would explain why she shivered with cold. Cool breezes and moonlight crept in through the opening that gaped like a hole to the starpatterned sky outside.

As she lay in bed, that was all she could see. Not the beach below which consisted of pure white sand and a few peach coloured seashells. Nor could she see the black sea although she could hear it. The waves rolling in making beautiful patterns in the pearly sand.

As if the beauty of it all mattered now. The sheer curtains that hung by the balcony door floated in and out of the room, caressing the walls, looking as if they had a secret to tell. Not that she would ever be interested in hearing it, not now.

There was a blanket laying at the foot of the large bed. No one would ever mind if she draped her icy body in it, that she knew, but where would she find the strength to do so? She could not even avert her eyes from the vision of white satin fabric that hung across the back of the wooden chair beside her.

It shone in an almost bluish way as the full moon reflected back from it. As it was, you almost could not tell that it was a dress. But it was, and not just any dress. A wedding dress, her wedding dress. A magnificent one at that. Strapless to show of her pale, smooth shoulders. Beaded with hundreds of pearls across the chest and fitted to mark her slender waist. The skirt itself was of the most precious satin.

 It had been perfectly white the very same morning but now a disturbing, dark pattern had formed across the front of the dress.

 It would not take long for any human eye to recognize the substance, for it was a vision that meant death and hurt and was repellent to all since the dawn of time and viciousness. Blood. She was sad that it was not her own, that would have made things so much easier.

 As it was, she felt as if it was impossible that a day would ever follow this night. How could the sun ever shine or the music ever be played again? How could birds ever carry on feeding their little ones or build new nests? How could there ever be people left in this world that could smile now that all that mattered had been taken from it?

 All this I knew as I stood at the foot of the door with my eyes on the back of her head. Her chestnut brown hair fell down the side of the pillow as shiny and easy flowing as the fabric of the dress she had worn a couple of hours ago. When she drew a shivering breath I almost let out one myself, for her pain was mine as well in several ways.

 As I stepped inside the room to cover her with the blanket she would not touch a realisation came to me and my heart raised in speed as the feelings I for so long had suppressed calmly but with full force planted themselves in me. My aching body, my foolish heart and my doomed soul would always love her. 

 

“Rosalind…”

I ran over a meadow. There was something behind me running much faster than me. Gaining. Something wanting to hurt me. To sink its teeth into my flesh and drain the blood from my fragile body.

“Rose…”

I tripped and there was no way that I would ever have the time to get up before the beast would be over me.

“Wake up Rose, honey.”

The only thing I could do now was to turn around and face the creature that would be the death of me. But there was nothing behind me. The meadow was calm and silent. There was no sign of my follower just thousands and thousands of differently coloured flowers that swayed back en forth and the sun beaming down softly.

“Rose.”

Someone had said my name. Then there was a gentle laugh and it was right behind me so I turned around quickly. There stood the most glorious vision of a man that could ever be. More a boy than a man as he was about my own age, eighteen. He was lean, muscular and pale, especially with the contrast to his dark hair that almost hid his even darker eyes. He pushed it back with his hand and took a step towards me. His hands were suddenly placed at both sides of my face. When he bent down and put his cool lips just below my jaw line I let out a sigh. He then kissed my right cheek and both my eyelids before placing a gentle kiss on my none worthy lips. His long lashed eyes met my mundane blue.

“You have got to wake up now Rosalind” he said. “Your father is beyond himself with worry. The cake has not yet arrived and he says that you, my lady, is definitely not on schedule.” So I opened my eyes but the glorious vision did not disappear.

“Good morning beautiful” he said and placed another kiss on my mouth.

“Lysander, you are not supposed to see me today” I replied. He smiled and showed of a row of perfectly straight teeth.

“Says who?”

“Says me, says your mother, says everyone” I said and tried to push him out of the bed. A worthless struggle. Lysander might not have the look of it, but he was stronger than any boy I had ever known.

“Well that’s not good enough for me” he replied between his lips and my neck. It tickled. “Okey then” I giggled. “Says tradition, the argument you’ve been sticking to ever since we met”. That made him stop at once.

“Yeah, sure, you’re right” he said and kissed me one final time, apparently not minding my morning breath.

“Don’t go back to sleep now” he whispered before closing the door to the room his parents had set for me just for this day. I knew I would not, for this was the morning of my wedding day.      

Author's Note

I would very much like som comments on how to improve my writing. What is good and not so good? It would also be fun to hear you opinion on how I should proceed the story.

Reviews

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The first part of the italic is written in third person, but in the last tree paragraphs you suddenly turn to first person, which is sort of confusing. Who is narrating that part, the girl on the bed or a third person observer?

Otherwise, nice story. Looking forward to the next part. Good job with the paragraphs - they flow very nicely.

And nice names, although they sound quite old. Are you a fellow Shakespeare enthuriast perhaps? It brings the question; when in time is this story set? Now or way back, say the 19th century?

[Malin Hidy]

All names in this story, future ones to, are names Shakespeare has used in his writing. Thank you( haha p�klistrat det d�r!).