Maybe, just maybe, we weren't meant for each other. Maybe in a parallel universe, then perhaps. But we both knew it was doomed from the start. Because that's what I do, I wreck things.
I'd underestimated the cold that night, I wrapped a shawl around myself but it failed to be a successful source of heat. I pulled my head downwards, with my chin pressed against my chest to stop the bitter wind from biting at it.
Night had fallen fast upon the hill and all about it swarmed grey clouds, hiding the stars. The ground became crisp, covered in a thin layer of ice that cracked beneath the heel of my pump.
Turning blue, my teeth began to chatter and I felt the cold in the air as I breathed. I pulled a strand of my hair between two fingers; it was like ice against my hand. Even the lids of my eyes suffered the effects of the cold, reducing my eyesight to a squint.
Thinking of him, I pulled myself together in preparation for the walk as I stumbled up the winding path, minding the way of tree roots and brambles that were ever entwining along the road. Each brick had spouts of different vegetation, unusual for the usually well-kept gardens. It had been many months since I'd visited and the cold crisp air felt like a million miles from where I'd been.
At night Bath felt warm and humid, the frost become one with the mist and great clouds of smog coated the rooftops. Puddles of rain that lingered in the cobbled roads were thrown up at the people huddled for warmth by passing carriages. Each day brought a hundred more agonies, with a hundred more children sleeping up against a building, and a hundred more of them dying. The stalls that once held grand collections from the dining tables of duchesses and dukes, held scraps that seemed unfit for the hounds that roamed the streets.
The house always looked different at night: shadows crept through the trees; the windows became stiff, trapping the darkness; the grand gate stood desolate- warning more so than welcoming. I pushed up against it with my one shaking hand. Creaking as it opened, the sharp screeching sent chills down my spine.
As I walked up the stretching path that lead to the door brambles attacked my ankles, tangling with the lace straps from my pump. Viciously, I pulled my legs away and ran for the door. I stood, my mind flashing back to him. To the love lost. My eyes fluttered shut, a soft, stream of tears making their way down my cheeks. "Never took you for a sap, Dawesy," A ghost of a voice filled my ears, a memory that I tried to lose. The house, which we once shared, looked worse for wear. Charlie insisted on a 'fixer-upper'. something to fill his days. But now, all I can see are the ghost of memories. The memoir to us.
Hello, all.
I'm not sure if the Our Girl fandom is still alive but since my last visit, I've had some pretty remarkable life changes. For one, I've finished my degree, and welcomed a little boy: Noah. Tireless nights from feeds at stupid o'clock and starting a job in September is major, so I've written this in attempt to grasp my muse again, so we shall see where this takes us. It isn't the best, by all means but I left the ending pretty open so you can insinuate it as you'd like. If you would like a part two, you can private message me and I'll try my hardest to get you another segment. Please review!
M.