Sun was setting in the far oblivion.Her home, a furlong away was visible in the twilight as a beautiful patch of grey over the blazing red that was now the horizon. Heaving foot one ahead of the other, she slowly made herself walk towards it, the loneliness that she suffered wanting her to go back the stone track, through the meadow, towards the river bank.
It was here, in the hours after she had left her friend, a young bright lass of her age, that a traveller, seated on a hand-made saddle, placed on the darkest and the mightiest horse she had ever seen, stopped her. His face was hidden half beneath the scarf with the golden braided edge and the dark brown eyes had expressed, beyond his attempts to mask them, an exquisite liking and a warm feeling of unearthly fondness.
She could sense his eyes wandering from her hair, that was gently flying in the mild breeze coming from nowhere, to the features on her face, and further beyond. A sense of uneasiness set in initially, but soon gave way to a unique sensation she had never felt before. He got down from the beast, and started stroking its mane, his eyes fixed on the beauty in front of him. His boots showed signs of rough times, and the leather holsters on either side of his belt held guns with ivory butt.
It was unusual for a stranger to ride into their town, in the valley beside the snow-capped mountain. They were the cast-away from the kingdom of the cruel king, and defying his rule was their mistake. The mountain provided them protection from the king's guards, and from the beasts that prowled in the jungles beyond. The tracks leading to the village had given way to vegetation, the reminiscence of a prosperous trade route. Any person coming from other side of the mountain was hanged in the town centre, for, if he is left alive , their settlement could be ambushed by the cruel king.
He talked to her in a language that was not her own. His voice , she imagined, were of the gods her mother always spake of. Unmistakeably she could comprehend the essence of his words as though they were connected by a link from the past, perhaps from a previous birth. He lifted the gunny pouch hanging from his waist,requesting for the elixir of life- water. She gently took it in her hand. Their fingers touched for a brief moment and a pulsating surge sent shivers through her nerves. She drew back immediately, her soft snow-white cheeks now wearing the vibrancy of a rose bud.
Her breath quickened as she curvetted towards the rivulet.
The chirping of the blue-tail reminded her of the romantic ballad her grandma used to recite.
Anxiety mounting, she quickly filled the pouch with water, and ran back to the place where she left him. Her heart beat faster than ever as she imagined his face beneath the scarf, daring herself to speak once she got back.
He was lying under the large oak tree. The horse he had straddled was no where to be seen. She set herself next to him, resisting her temptation to touch his hands that now rested on his chest. His breath was heavy, and words were choking his throat. She gently placed her hands on his back, rendering him support enough to sit. Her emotions flooded beyond bounds as her arm drenched in his blood. The gaping wound on his back was draining him of all the vitality he was left with, drawing him closer to the darker world beyond life. Their eyes locked for a brief moment. His hand gently rose, caressing her face, before falling down, lifeless...
Dedication: to a very special friend, Merlin, who inspired me to write this...
It was here, in the hours after she had left her friend, a young bright lass of her age, that a traveller, seated on a hand-made saddle, placed on the darkest and the mightiest horse she had ever seen, stopped her. His face was hidden half beneath the scarf with the golden braided edge and the dark brown eyes had expressed, beyond his attempts to mask them, an exquisite liking and a warm feeling of unearthly fondness.
She could sense his eyes wandering from her hair, that was gently flying in the mild breeze coming from nowhere, to the features on her face, and further beyond. A sense of uneasiness set in initially, but soon gave way to a unique sensation she had never felt before. He got down from the beast, and started stroking its mane, his eyes fixed on the beauty in front of him. His boots showed signs of rough times, and the leather holsters on either side of his belt held guns with ivory butt.
It was unusual for a stranger to ride into their town, in the valley beside the snow-capped mountain. They were the cast-away from the kingdom of the cruel king, and defying his rule was their mistake. The mountain provided them protection from the king's guards, and from the beasts that prowled in the jungles beyond. The tracks leading to the village had given way to vegetation, the reminiscence of a prosperous trade route. Any person coming from other side of the mountain was hanged in the town centre, for, if he is left alive , their settlement could be ambushed by the cruel king.
He talked to her in a language that was not her own. His voice , she imagined, were of the gods her mother always spake of. Unmistakeably she could comprehend the essence of his words as though they were connected by a link from the past, perhaps from a previous birth. He lifted the gunny pouch hanging from his waist,requesting for the elixir of life- water. She gently took it in her hand. Their fingers touched for a brief moment and a pulsating surge sent shivers through her nerves. She drew back immediately, her soft snow-white cheeks now wearing the vibrancy of a rose bud.
Her breath quickened as she curvetted towards the rivulet.
The chirping of the blue-tail reminded her of the romantic ballad her grandma used to recite.Anxiety mounting, she quickly filled the pouch with water, and ran back to the place where she left him. Her heart beat faster than ever as she imagined his face beneath the scarf, daring herself to speak once she got back.
He was lying under the large oak tree. The horse he had straddled was no where to be seen. She set herself next to him, resisting her temptation to touch his hands that now rested on his chest. His breath was heavy, and words were choking his throat. She gently placed her hands on his back, rendering him support enough to sit. Her emotions flooded beyond bounds as her arm drenched in his blood. The gaping wound on his back was draining him of all the vitality he was left with, drawing him closer to the darker world beyond life. Their eyes locked for a brief moment. His hand gently rose, caressing her face, before falling down, lifeless...
Dedication: to a very special friend, Merlin, who inspired me to write this...
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10 comments:
Intellectual piece of art!!!! great work. Excellent language. Felt like reading a full length novel. It's something lovey-dovey . But you shouldn't 've made such a tragic end to the story(though it makes the story more emotional). Such a beautiful maid, all alone in a cruel world, it's so sad.
nice work there man... i can really fell the amount of pages turned in the 'oxford'. but as bristow said, u made it really tragic.. :D
n try to do a lil explanation for the 'merlin connection'..
Dear pals,
As far as the story is concerned the tragic ending is more appropriate than anything else. Moreover, when i sat down to write this, the scenes emerged in front of my eyes and i just had the job of caricaturing them in words. I did not preplan the climax, it just came in to my mind as if someone was reciting it. I am not bluffing but thats what actually happened. Thanks for your appreciation.
ya... while I wuz reading it, I wuz think how this story wud end, but a quite an apt ending... nice vocabulary, good expressions.. good work...
keep it up
Good piece.completely different one.the second picture added more life to the story.nice pictures.i would like to know the answer to nivils ? .k.i still dont know.merlin
wow
now you have one more choice to become a poet
Good work.. Very good vocabulary.
Sooo tragic an ending devidas :(
Great work... didnt know u were such a great writer...
I got some doubts in this one... The below given lines
"It was here, in the hours after she had left her friend, a young bright lass of her age, that a traveller, seated on a hand-made saddle, placed on the darkest and the mightiest horse she had ever seen, stopped her."
somehow made me feel that there should be a "based on true story"..... cause there is some unwanted detail given... dont know whether its a lack in my understanding capacity....
and the other question what many has already asked b4.. so am not repeating it...
anyway great Work... have well described the surrounding giving a tolkien effect...
excellent way of expressing a short story....transporting oneself to one long lost n forgotten era...
Nothing else could justify the story more than the perfect ending...
well written and keep following ths pattern at times...i loved i absolutely...
It is good. Still I would have certain 'but's to mention.
Romance can be made more immersing.
When kept simple everyone would enjoy ..not only those who have an inclination to literature.
I liked the way you described his eyes filled with emotion.
The end was good..but i would have liked more explanation on that.
Keep up the good work :)
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