A story I wrote for school, and I wanted to know what you all think before I hand it in. The man is Sirius, and I'm not really sure about the woman, so let us just assume she is a muggle he fell in love with. please review i really want to know what you all make of it, and if it will be good enough for my teacher lol. it would be very helpful!! byeee
Another Night Sleepless
Ten years had passed, yet the man standing, staring into the frosty, snow polluted window had not changed in the slightest. His long dark hair had not been flecked with grey, as he had seen many of his friends do, and his face was still as smooth and as soft as it had ever been. The only difference in this wondrous mans appearance were his deep and very dark eyes. The light they once had shone so brightly with had faded over time, and like a fire, had been extinguished. The man was dressed in rather dated clothing, the sort of clothing not seen on the streets of the present day, but that may appear in charity shops or films once in a while.
The house, which the man was so keenly attached to sat in the middle of a long, straight road that turned at the corner and disappeared like a sea, waiting for the next voyager to venture forth to discover new worlds. There was a quaint little garden filled with sunflowers and roses and daffodils. It looked like a bag of dolly mixtures, brim full of bright and beautiful colours that simply floored the passers by. And the smell was so sweet and luxurious that it was hard for people not to stop and gaze in wonderment at the garden that was clearly the apple of some lucky house owner's eye. But this did not seem to detract the mans attention from the window. The beauty of the garden obviously not being as enticing as whatever, or whomever, was in the small red brick house.
Or maybe, it was because the garden was not looking its best today. All the roses had wilted and the sunflowers had dropped their petals, as if to mimic the falling snow around it. The soft raindrops that were beating down on the lush green grass were making it soggy and damp. It was safe to assume that the garden's dying beauty was the sole reason that the man did not look so longingly at it, as so many others did.
Or perhaps, it was something else.
If you where to go and stand beside the man, or indeed stand in the actual spot he was in, you would see what had this man so transfixed on the inside of the house. Yet, to anyone else, it would have meant nothing.
Inside, behind a large, decorated Christmas tree sat a family, watching the flashing television box and laughing heartily at the comical show that was being projected from its screen. There was a teenage boy, around the age of fifteen, who sat on a plush red sofa cradling a small girl with soft yellow pigtails and a round, kind face. The girl could not have been more than eight years old, yet anyone could see she was going to be a beauty. On another sofa that seemed attached to the far away wall slept a woman in the arms of her cackling husband. She slept peacefully across his chest, and her body bounced up and down with the movement of his laughter. It was she that the man could not tear his eyes from.
She had long, blonde hair, the mirror colour of the girl's in fact, which fell in elegant waves over her bare shoulders and face. She had china white skin that would have seemed unhealthy if it weren't for the natural blush that shaded her cheeks so dramatically. The woman was dressed, in a long silk gown that clung loosely to her slender frame. This artistically beautiful woman's eyes were hidden under her lids, but the man knew the colour. He knew it as well as his own, for those sparkling eyes had gazed at him with love for many years. They were a shade of deep hazel, very unusually set amidst her fair features. Yet the effect was not ugly, quite the contrary, it added a dark mystery to the lovely face, as though she had secrets untold for many years, that perhaps, someday, would escape.
The man watched as this ethereal beauty was roused from sleep by a particularly heavy laugh. She rubbed those dark eyes sleepily with one of her porcelain hands and whispered something softly against her jailors cheek. He released her reluctantly, pecking her beloved skin with his lips and smiling up at her. She exited the room and vanished, yet the man knew where she would be headed.
And then, something very strange happened. Had anyone seen it, they would have been amazed; appalled perhaps, or maybe they would think themselves mad. For this un-aged man that was so besotted with the woman, appeared to float, effortlessly though the sky. First he raised his hands as though pleading with an overhead power, then his feet left the ground and his entire body began to float upwards towards another window. He reached it, just as the woman entered the room and switched on the light. He perched himself on the sill of the window, crossed his legs and rested his face on his knuckles. He looked as though he was merely watching an interesting film, rather than witnessing a person's life right before his eyes.
The woman, who seemed quite unaware of the man watching her at the window, moved over to a large dresser, sat down in front of it and observed her face in the round mirror that had been placed on top. She tenderly stroked her cheek before raising a brush to her hair and mercilessly attacking it so the waves dislodged themselves from their stationary, elegant position and began to curl wildly and uncontrollably. The man smiled as he saw a fragment of the woman he had once known return.
Almost as though she had felt him smile, the woman stopped abruptly. Turning in her chair, she looked around the room suspiciously, before her eyes came to rest on the window. She stood up, and glided across the room. Her fingers fumbled on the latch of the window as she opened it clumsily.
After what seemed an eternity, she threw open the window and felt icy cold wind tear at her skin. She closed her eyes and allowed it to envelope her.
Beside her, the man watched as the wind carelessly turned her white skin red with coldness, and as the snow landed on her skin, acting as a paint, and making her seem even more pale. How he longed to touch the cold skin, to make it warm again.
The woman opened her eyes slowly and looked around.
"Alone," she said softly.
"Never," replied the man with equal sorrow. But she didn't hear him. She hadn't heard him for ten years.
The man raised one of his calloused and broken hands and moved it near her cheek, but just as he was about to reach out and touch her, she drew back into the safety of her warm room and shut the window. She rubbed her bare arms with her hands as though warming them up again, brushing the snow and raindrops off at the same time, and, with one last glance outside, she drew the curtains.
The man turned away from the window and let the back of his head fall against the red brick, a sad, fat tear rolling down his cheek, until it fell off the end of his chin to the ground below. To anyone passing by, it might have been just another raindrop.
It had been so easy for her to forget about him, but this man, this lonely and forgotten man was trapped, always remembering her. He couldn't let go.
The man came to himself again as the dimmed light behind the curtain went out. Raising himself slightly, the man gracefully sailed back down to the ground. His eyes staring down at the hand he had almost touched her with, he began to walk slowly to the end of the street. Once he had reached the corner, he stared back at the house, as though he thought it might disappear if he were to remove his gaze. Eventually, the man turned away, and rounded the corner of the street.
Until the next night.
now you must review... :)