Has it literally been several days since my last post? Felt like freaking forever, as I contend with dramatic comrades, my not-so-tranquil family, and my own chaotic self-analyses(Analyses; is that plural of analysis? No?). I admit I haven’t been writing for a while, and was totally MIA: Missing in Action. Bad step to take. But now, the urge was just to deep so I hooked up with technology and let my fingers once again, travel the keys.
Today is a special day. My birthday. I am not telling my age, because a) I like to keep people guessing and b) it is very impolite to inquire a lady’s age, unless she is willing to say so. I am not willing to say my current age, so there. But don’t worry, peeps, I have more interesting things in mind.
In my work in progress, “A Tumultuous Journey” inches towards maturity, I am always taking ideas, putting them in, and deleting some, fixing some, and other things. It is very constant that I find myself straightening points, for, just like the painters and producers and all the rest of the artistic crowd, I must be perfectionist to get the story to fit in all those tiny holes.
Here, is an excerpt from the story. Just to provide a sneak peek about the characters and plot.
In case you haven’t read my explanation of the story( Page four in the site), I’ll have to say but to catch up. To condense what I have written in the letter, this is A Tumultuous Journey: Once upon a time, there were two countries: Franchaise and Marltrifline, who have been fighting for several years. In an agrarian town in Franchaise, a boy of fifteen years, named Richard, was forced to evacuate when the Marltrines (Marltrifline peoples) come and take over the place. Several hundred miles away in Franchaise, a girl of fifteen years named Beatrice was torn off her hometown as the Marltrines draw near; a hometown rich with painful memories.
By fate, they meet in an elegant, yet intriguing city of Clementine, where they meet- and fall in love. Then, they separate to their adoptive families, and both experience the repercussions of the war in many aspects. When they meet again more than a year later, the effect is a crucible that will test their courage, hope, and love.
This story is a double narrative, the chapters switching back and forth between perspectives of Richard and Beatrice, as we see through their eyes an unforgettable romance.
Now that this is done, here is the excerpt, enjoy:
Chapter Eight: Harvest of Hope-or Despair(Beatrice’s perspective)
… I suddenly awaken in the middle of the night. The moon is very bright and full tonight, as are the stars. The moonlight flowed into the room in rivers, yet the room is still quite dark. I sit up, and realize that the bed is strewn with colorful flower petals. Near my pillow lay a note. I recognize Richard’s handwriting as I read, “Meet me in the ballroom.” I leave my bed, and softly tread across the cold floor. I pick up my ivory silk bathrobe as I go, and I put it on over my sleeveless nightgown. My hair hung loose, flowing down my back, with small honeysuckles woven into the locks. I rush downstairs as soundless as a ghost, and cross through the maze-like hallways, and open into the large ballroom. To my disappointment, the ballroom is empty. “Rick?” My voice replicates as it vaporizes into the marble walls.
I turn around to leave the room, when I feel something warm grasp my hand. “Beatrice.” Rick’s whisper is filled with bliss that wafted to my ears into my heart. “I knew you would come.” I turn to meet his bright green eyes, as his fingers fold with mine. We kissed, a fleeting, but wondrous moment of passion.
Rick is what he looked like when I boarded the train: a plain ivory button down, and simple brown trousers, but like me, he is barefoot. He walks me from the doors, and to the center of the ballroom. “It was a long time since I last saw you, Rick. A very long time without you.” Nostalgia struck me as I said those words. I could not tear myself away from him. Every second that passes now is precious gold.
Soft violin music and woodwinds begin to tune out a waltz, and we start swaying like long grasses in a breeze. We are silent for a while as we danced as the music flowed from invisible sources in the dark corners of the ballroom and surrounded us in a moonlight trance. We begin to dance, and we didn’t feel like solid earthly figures, but light and lissom birds that waltz in the wind as we waltzed in the cold marble floor.
We suddenly stop, and the music came to a halt. Rick let go of my hands, bowed his head, and turned away. “Beatrice, I don’t want to hurt you. There are many things about Clementine…” He sighed heavily. “I nearly died! I think it’s better that we don’t meet like this anymore. This is the last one.” His eyes turn to me, and I felt his fear pierce my gut, and his despair brought up tears.
I run to him.”No, Rick. I will not leave you. We only met again this night. You cannot leave me like this. I, too, share some bruises. Believe me, you don’t have to feel this pain.” I lock my eyes with his, hoping he’ll find my store of strength there. “Please.”
His arms embrace me, and I feel his tears run down my back. “Hope is a dangerous thing to experiment with. It grows, and dies. And when it dies…” His voice cracked at the last word, and I sense anger steaming through my veins, and I push him away.
“Hope shall not perish tonight!” My voice came out strong, and I didn’t care if the others heard. “I spent many nights waiting for your voice and face. Even your own mother longs to see you again. Have faith, will you? You are not alone.” I suddenly feel drained from this speech, and I am on my knees as my legs went numb, and my head spins from dizziness.
He kneels beside me, and places his lips against mine as I lose consciousness.
“BEATRICE, WAKE UP!!” A demand arouses me from a deep sleep, and confusion arose. What has gone on? Lilian’s shrill voice rings again,”It is ten o’ clock and you are still asleep!” I sit up, and see a fuming Lilian.
Confusion grows as I look frantically around the bed.”Where are the flower petals?” I slurred, still groggy from the dregs of sleep still in my eyes.
Lilian raises an eyebrow in puzzlement.”Flower petals? What are you talking about, are you alright?” Then, I knew. I lay back to the bed, as I realize that the night I danced with Rick in the moonlight was only a dream.
And that is about it, folks. An excerpt from the story. Hopefully you like it. If you have any ideas for my story, feel free to say so when you comment. Continue to enjoy literature.
Written in March 27, 2015