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Story Idea: Chapter 12, part 1 |
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A young woman was kneeling beside him. Her eyes were a pair of beautiful, bright sapphires. Her lips, even though cracked, were rosy and soft. Her skin was as pale as a moon beam. Her cheeks were well built and rosy. She had a large forehead but it was covered behind her brown and copper coloured hair. Her arms and legs were very muscular, her shape was an hourglass. Even though dirt, grime, bruises, and cuts covered her, Peter thought she was more beautiful than any other girl he had ever met.
“You feeling better,” she asked.
“Umm…I…I don’t know,” he whispered quietly.
“Well that’s not good, if you don’t know how am I supposed to.”
She looked at him. He felt her eyes burying into his. It was if she was looking into his soul. He shivered. He had never seen eyes like hers, sharp but yet so gentle.
“So…would you like something to eat,” she asked.
“Umm…y-yes p-p-please,” Peter stuttered.
“Why are you stuttering?”
“…”
“Are you afraid of me?”
“…n-n-no, at least I don’t think s-s-so.”
“Then why are you stuttering?”
She looked at him with question in her eyes. Her head was also cocked a bit to the right. Light poured in the room from a small window. Most of it fell on the girl, highlighting her. Peter lay on the floor of the room and just looked at her. She so beautiful, I’ve never felt this way before, why? Even when I was with Cindy, I…this feeling, thought Peter, trying to make sense of the moment.
“Anyways I’ll get back to before. Are you hungry?”
“I-I’ve already answered yes,” he said quietly.
“Oh?! Oops, sorry I forgot. I have some soup cooking in a few minutes.”
“O-o-ok, thank-you, for everything.”
“What?!”
“Umm, I said thank-you, I’m sorry if I’v-“
“No, no, don’t apologize. I’m just not used to someone being thankful to me.”
Oh, this must be the girl Master Edger was talking about. But he was a grateful man at one time. This poor girl.
“Oh by the way, you should go sit in the chair. My master loved it; he slept in it most of the time.”
Peter shook his head in agreement. He slowly stood up, making sure that he wasn’t going to fall back onto the floor. While leaning against the furniture, Peter walked over to the chair and sat. He watched the little bird as it tried to fly. He smiled a small smile. He felt at home in the tree-house. He closed his eyes but didn’t sleep. I still don’t understand why I stuttered when I talked to her. I wasn’t afraid. Well maybe at first but still, thought Peter. He continued to ponder why he stuttered, until the girl came up. Then all he could think about was her.
 Rosalinda Plaisance · Sun Sep 28, 2008 @ 06:44pm · 0 Comments |
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