View RSS Feed


"Amor a Primera Vista" (6/7)

Rate this Entry
Change of plan folks. There will now be 7 parts to the story. This was so difficult to write; I hope it doesn't disappoint you.

The light streamed through the gap of the curtains, and greeted me as I awakened. I proceeded into the bathroom, where I inspected the newly formed freckles on my tanned nose, before cleaning my teeth and washing. I selected my clothing, and coated my skin in lotion that smelled just like coconut. Carefully placing the blue flower slide into my hair (which would otherwise fall about my face), I examined myself once more, and left for breakfast.

Out on the terrace, the weather was even more glorious; my, it was going to be such a hot day.

I think I had cereal that morning... or was it French toast with jam. Come to think of it, I'm not entirely sure if I ate anything that morning. The truth is, I can't remember anything from that particular morning. Sure, I can recall the routine which I went about so robotically. But I didn't think much; I didn't feel a single thing.

After finishing my meal - or maybe I didn't, I rose from my chair and meandered around the other tables. I passed him by on the way to the pool. I knew he was there, but I didn't even glance.

I rolled out my towel, lay down, put on my heart-shaped glasses, and a single tear trickled down my cheek. It seemed that my body was functioning regularly, yet mentally, I was oblivious to everything - or perhaps it was just ignorance.

I perched on the edge of the pool; my feet dipped in the cool blue water, and the sun beating down on my back. Quite spontaneously, I slid into the pool; the temperature shocking me back to life. I swam the whole length of the pool. The majority of it was spent with my head submerged as I didn't care much for oxygen. I looked up, and through the rippling surface of the water was a distorted figure. I knew it was him - of course I knew.

Climbing up the hot metal steps, my see-through, wet skirt clung to my thighs. I brushed my hair to the side and looked at him. He was smiling at me. He smiled like nothing was wrong, Like he was safe in the knowledge that destiny had sealed us together, and never would we be parted.

Sat together, our little fingers touched; even that small contact set my heart on fire. We didn't converse much; we didn't really communicate at all. The presence of one another, just existing side by side was enough for us. Soon enough, he left to pack, and I returned to bed for a brief rest.

12.00pm was our meeting time. His coach would collect him at 1.30pm.

I'd slowly urged myself from my previously hazy state, back into sharp reality. Still, I remained certain that our parting would be simple, brief and perfunctory.

I was there on the dot. It would be the very last time I would walk through those glass doors with my heart racing in anticipation to see him.

Hand in hand, we walked into the secluded garden with the aviary. Mistakenly, we had assumed it would be empty at this time, but there were a number of hawk-like passers by, eyeing us up. We didn't care. It was our time - the last time.

Each tear that rolled down his cheek pierced my heart, yet I didn't bleed. I grew frustrated at myself for the inability to express the same emotion in such an impassioned manner.
"I love you ... I love you," he whispered to me, as he glided his finger across my collar bone.
Taking my hands, and joining them together, as if to pray, he kissed them tenderly; he said, "I promise you, I will see you again. I promise."
Our heads were inclined towards eachothers, and our eyes were shut; our breathing was slow as the time flew by so rapidly.

1.15pm. It was time to go and wait with his cases at the reception. His father called him, and I ushered him to make a move.
I took a step.
"No . No."
He was drowning in his own tears, and I felt powerless, completely powerless. Any words spoken would have been wasted at that moment in time. Instead, we held eachother, and we stood there for a little while longer.

I reached inside my pocket and obtained a small, silver hair slide with a tiny crystal dragon-fly on the end; I had kept it there as a spare. I placed it into his hand and told him, "This is for you... so you won't forget me."
He held it close to his chest and scrunched his weary eyes, before dropping it into his breast pocket.

We kissed. It wasn't even slow and delicate as you'd expect. It was rough and fiery, like two souls colliding resulting in explosions and fireworks of passion.

His father and brother bid me goodbye with kisses on the cheek and warm smiles. The coach arrived. I ran to him and hugged him. We said goodbye.

I didn't even wait to wave him off; as soon as he was out of sight, I wandered back into the hotel. I felt exactly how I predicted.
I passed the reception, I passed the toilets, I passed the computer area; I reached the bar. The bar where I had seen him for the very first time.
What have I done?

I should have ran as fast as I could - out of the building, onto the coach, to tell him that... I loved him.

I loved him with every inch of my being.

I loved him more than air.

But all I could do, was dash to my room, where I cried. I cried for a very long time.


  1. Dori's Avatar
    Wow. Just wow.
  2. downing's Avatar
    I'm tearing apart...i don't know why i hoped it would be even more fabulous...but life isn't fabulous all the time and your short story proves it. I think this is another reason for your text's splendor.
  3. optimisticnad's Avatar
    Ok, here goes - I once got bad feed back on one of my stories (first time ever) and it cut me up so I hope I don't make you feel like that.

    why is your story in the first person? I think because it is written in the first person you spend so much time telling us stuff whereas good literature 'shows', they use symbolism, metaphor and all the rest. My advice would be to try reworking this from a different angle. For example, third person narrative.

    I didn't think it was bad but it was nothing remarkable or special. If the above was in a bookshop and I read the fragment you have up there I wouldn't buy it. Because it's not original. It's all been done and said before.

    Keep at it and you'll know instinctively when you have something amazing. The two people above liked so maybe it's me, it's probably not my cup of tea.

    kind regards

  4. LadyW's Avatar
    Aaah, not cut up so much, just a little disheartened.

    But I really do appreciate the feedback, good or bad.

    It's in the first person... because it's a memory; it's not even all that clear inside the person's mind. It's painful to recall and so there are parts missing; it's even a little disjointed.

    Moreover, it's aimed at a specific kind of audience, and I definitely can see why it's not to everyone's taste.

    I am going to be working on it alot; it certainly has room for improvement.
  5. optimisticnad's Avatar
    I know what disheartening feels like believe me! But yes, keep working at it and you can always 'play' around with it as much as you want. That was just my honest feedback and I think honesty, even if it stings a little, is better than pretty lies. If you're serious about writing and improving then you have to ruthless my friend! Good luck.