MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “romance”

Marked hearts

©Roger Bultot

“Do you remember this part of our walk on our first date, when we timidly held hands? I was trembling with excitement. Your smile illuminated the entire cloister.

And then I turned and looked into your eyes. They were sparkling.

I still remember our first kiss. How can I ever forget?

You came into my life for a brief moment and left your mark on it forever”.

She held the old photo in hand and read his handwritten letter as she walked along the cloister.

It took him a decade to find her.

And now she had come to him.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

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Jasmin’s Prince

Her name was Jasmin. She was named after her mother’s favourite flower, one symbolising love, beauty and good luck. She had blue eyes and long black silky hair.

When she was young she was thrilled to discover that one of her favourite princesses bore the same name. She believed she was destined for greatness and always strived to achieve it.

But this had the disadvantage that, on this account, nothing (and often no one) was good enough.

So when she met her prince, she stifled him because the reality did not fit the perspective she had imagined. It was the problem of having too many expectations. They caused too great a heartache and too much disappointment when they were not met.

Unlike her gentle and kind character, she began to get angry too often. In her head, it wasn’t this difficult to be with someone, to communicate, to get along. She was enraged that things were not turning out the way she hoped.

And then his behaviour made it all worse. He began to pull away, talking to her less and not spending time together. She despised that he was lying to her. Even for the simplest of things under the pretext of “not wanting to upset her”. It made everything worse. Because she knew what the truth was and how he was lying about it. It made her feel as if he didn’t think she could handle the truth or that he did not trust her. She had always wondered, if people are doing things that they have to lie about, then why do them in the first place?

She was a person of discipline and order, and uncertainty did not fare well with her. So she began to walk away too, giving up trying to reconcile their romance. But in her heart she still hoped he would see clearly and claim her back. He always knew how to do that at first: it only took a flower, a kiss, a kind gesture, and she would melt in his arms. Princes have that ability: to charm you.

Enclosed in rose petals

©MCD

They are the ones that give colour to the flower itself. The ones you anxiously wait to grow, to bloom, to open up and reveal the others hidden inside. In a rose, it’s the petals that give it its essence.

The petals, just like the rose itself, are full of symbolisms. They represent the destination at the end of a long journey. They are what makes the climb up from the thorny stem worth the pain of it. They are what constitute the beauty of an otherwise ‘aggressive’ flower. For if you can’t grasp the thorns, you are not worthy of the flower. The petals are what accentuate the value.

Like William Carlos Williams wrote, “the rose is obsolete” for “it is at the edge of the petal that love waits”.

Flowers are symbols of love, of adoration, of caring. But they are soon doomed to wither, their petals opening up and eventually falling off. But even loose petals are symbols of love, of passion, of romance. They are the ones that hold the memories of the initial rose. Of the moment in which it was delivered. Of the emotions that overwhelmed the giver and the receiver, and of the instants that ensued.

It is not accidental that the best decoration potpourri usually include flower petals. Because they enclose everything the flower once was and everything it still remains. It reminds us that no matter how closed up we are, we can always bloom, let others past our thorns, and persist, maintaining our beauty unaffected by time.

Sculpted memories

js-brand-tree

©J.S. Brand

The things you remember are the things that are strange. The ones out of the ordinary, that are often nothing like expected.

When Mario told her he had a surprise-picnic planned, what immediately sprung to mind was something romantic, in a green field, with tall trees, flowers, silence and plenty of fresh air for them to breathe in and relax. They would also preferably be alone.

What happened though, was something Marisol could never forget. Mario took her to the neighbourhood park, where he prepared a mini-barbecue, under a sculpted tree.

He said this would surely create a lasting memory.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Set in stone

stone-house

©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

It was part of their family heritage ever since her relatives remembered. But she was around to see it refurbished. The stone walls were whitened and reinforced and the interior completely renovated.

As a child, she pretended it was her castle and she was longing for her prince to come riding along on a white stallion.

Over the years, she stopped being so demanding though. He didn’t have to have a horse. And he didn’t have to be royal.

When she saw him approach, she realised that all that mattered was him being a decent person. And to love her.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Erasing a memory

https://image.shutterstock.com/image-photo/moscow-russia-july-05-2016-260nw-1059717869.jpgSarah woke up one morning remembering nothing. She had completely erased him from her life, as if he had never existed for her. She had wished so hard to forget him that, one day, she eventually did.

She recalled nothing. None of the romantic dates, the surprises, the laughter, the trips, the flowers, all the things they did together somehow never existed in her memory. It was a slate wiped blank. And together with it, so had all the heartbreak, the quarrels, the violent outbursts, the tears, they had all vanished.

She felt serene.

After all, how could something you did not remember affect you, let alone hurt you?

She decided to go for a walk in the park. Oblivious to the fact that it was right at that park lake where they first met.

Now, even if she saw him, he would mean nothing to her. He would simply be a stranger among the many strangers living their own lives around us.

Plus, what – really – were the odds that she would bump into him? Of all the hundreds, thousands of people we walk past every day?

She stopped to gaze at the small, delicately sculpted fountain in the middle of the lake. For some reason she was always mesmerised by it.

You know it was created by an unfortunate father after his daughter drowned in this lake chasing a duck? He let her out of his sight for a moment and that’s when it happened. Sometimes that’s all it really takes. A moment”.

The voice sounded oddly familiar. But she couldn’t recall from where.

That was his conversation-starter that time too. But Sarah didn’t remember that.

Neither did Todd.

He was standing next to her in a khaki trousers and salmon-coloured shirt loosely hanging over it. His smile radiated the sunshine. He winked at her and her heart fluttered.

But something was holding her back. As if telling her “no”. It was an inexplicable restraint.

She smiled shyly and walked away, saying nothing. She hoped he wouldn’t follow her.

She was searching for a prince. And he wasn’t it.

 

The dried-up creek

k-rawson

©Karen Rawson

It was an autumn morning without a cloud in the sky. It had been days since they had raised their gaze to so much blue. Today they were celebrating. It didn’t really matter what; there is always something to rejoice each day. So they decided to do something different. Life is only worth it if you take risks and believe you can succeed.

After what seemed like endless turns, they reached a forgotten stairwell that led to the remnants of a creek. It was muddy and dull.

This used to be a park. It was where I first saw you”.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Mountain views

mt-lemmon-with-tree

©Jan Wayne Fields

He loved breath-taking views. He could get lost in them for hours. Just sitting there relaxed, letting his mind wander over the horizon. It was always as if he was flying. This must be sort of what it feels like.

And in such a “flight”, he met her. A person who would suffer if she sat still for too long. But at that very moment she needed the tranquillity. That sense of escape from everything and everyone. And at that mountain top she found it.

Together with the person who would lift her up as high as he possibly could.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

A song of fireworks

https://www.google.gr/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwizvPi4ubzaAhVMaxQKHdjwBo4QjRx6BAgAEAU&url=https%3A%2F%2Fpatch.com%2Fflorida%2Fbradenton%2Fbradenton-4th-july-fireworks-what-you-need-know&psig=AOvVaw3ixqnT-W0OrX-FZC8nmnm2&ust=1523887461934014He was waiting for the fireworks. For a week now, it was all he could think about. She was excited too, but she had many other things on her mind that were consuming her attention. She relished the fact that he was so thrilled. Sometimes all it takes is someone else’s smile to make you smile even wider.

That night there was a fair, accompanied with the grandiose of a market, stalls, candy, street food, a Ferris wheel, lights, dance, songs and, of course, at the end of the night, fireworks. That splendid display of low explosive pyrotechnic devices that always make people stare at the sky with awe and amazement.

Tonight he had something special planned though.

As soon as the fireworks ended, he had arranged with the local DJ for her favourite song to play. As soon as she heard it, she turned at once towards his direction, her eyes now wide and bright, glistening in the night. He stretched his hand to clasp hers and drew her into an opening. And there he led her into her favourite dance. She was amazed. He had learned all the moves she enjoyed and managed to surprise her in a way she never expected.

For her, the fireworks came later. And that was all that mattered.

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Song

Never a time waste

dales-symphony-2

©Dale Rogerson

The speech had just ended and Sarah thought it was the most boring two hours of her life. Jonas had the same view. “What a time waste!” he was heard saying in the reception area, glass of wine in hand. Sarah’s eyes met his glance and he approached her. “Politicians never have something new to say, don’t you think?” he suggested as he handed her a topped-up wine glass.

She smiled, blushing at his communicative spirit, the ease with which he started a conversation with someone unknown.

Yes,” she finally agreed. “But perhaps the evening will now be more interesting”.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

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