Title: The Postcard
Pairing: Ennis/Jack
Rating: none
Disclaimer: I am not Annie Proulx and sadly I never will be her – so all recognition for the wonderful original characters Ennis and Jack belongs to her and her alone. I am only borrowing these two heros and I will give them back, I promise. Obviously I make no money from my story, I'm just passing the time.
Feedback: Yes, please!


The Postcard

The mountain had captured them in its spell, had taught them humility before a power whose battles were fought in the heart and whose wounds bear scars that never heal. Never forget.

They were desperate, each despairing for himself, each alone. Lost in a rush of feelings too great to understand. Feelings that overwhelmed them like a force of nature. Unexpectedly, unintentionally at first and then sweeping them away, leaving them to stagger and stumble before finding their own rhythm high on the mountain, the sky so near, the earth so far away.

They were so young, inexperienced and innocent. The greatest luck in the world brought them, unprepared, into each other's arms. In the seclusion of the deserted mountains they lived for a brief time in heavenly togetherness, found relief for their souls and a home for their hearts.

In the lonely, quiet nights they reconnoitered each other's bodies, gave each other sensual hours of love and intoxicated seconds of pure passion. They lost themselves in each other's presence, melted together into a single whole. Their hearts beat in harmony. Hour after hour, day after day, week after week.

Life seemed endless, the future drowned in the all-fulfilling present. They had ascended the summit of perfection. Their yearning had a name, their dreams took on a face. Like waves, the existence of the world outside their enclave passed them by, left them behind, took pity on them and gave them a transitory paradise on earth.

It was spring that blessed them, summer that consecrated them, and early autumn that sacrificed both men. Sacrificed them because of a snowstorm that never arrived. That drove them down off the mountain into a life that was no longer theirs, an existence full of privations, compromises, and lies.

They found themselves again in the world, so near the abyss, face to face with ever-present thoughts of loneliness and a painful yearning. Bound through lifelong commitments to people who longed for their affection, held captive in a love that could not be, that should not be, and that yet was.

And now, in the winter of his life, he looked back on what had been, what could have been, and what could still be. His existence had shrunk to memories of a lonely mountain range and a brief period of luck, shining like bright stars, showing him the way through the darkness of his heart. They warmed his soul, night after night.

And in his dreams he begged the other man for forgiveness. Forgiveness for the crucial moment of weakness and uncertainty in which he decided not to send the postcard.