Ok, this is my first attempt at His Dark Materials Fiction. Will be
continued if you guys like and review. I couldn't stand the ending, so I
wrote this to soothe my poor heart broken self. sniffs
Disclaimer: Screw disclaimers.
Summary: Lyra and Will still sit at the bench every midsummer's. But is it possible to open up a portal between the worlds by love alone? =============================================================
It had been five years, sixteen days, four hours and twenty minutes since she had seen Will.
Five years is a long time. Five years at St Sophia's is infinity.
She had grown up. She had dated boys, but none of them like Will.
Boys who were charming, gracious and sweet. They were the ones who the other girls wanted- the ones that showered her with presents, gifts and chocolates. So different from Will, that she couldn't even begin to make the comparison that her heart so wanted her to do...
Lyra had passed through her years. She kissed boys. She laughed with girls. She wrote bad poetry. She cried herself to sleep because so and so weren't speaking to her. She still lied shamelessly, and tucked away, kept her Oxford speech.
She still sat on that little stone bench every Midsummer's.
St Sophia's. She met other girls. She learnt how to dance. She learnt how to do her hair, and makeup. She learnt what to say to people. She learnt grace and elegance/ She still ran through the street of Oxford sometimes, and once or twice she still threw mud at the Brick Burners children.
She still sat on that little stone bench every Midsummer's.
Growing up. She graduated. She smiled. She laughed. She still felt as safe and as sound in Ma Costa's warm arms.
She still sat on that little stone bench every Midsummer's.
Memories. She had new memories now. She remembered her first kiss without Will- a fumbling, un emotional kiss in the dark. She remembered the bad poetry she wrote. She remembered days so rushed and hectic that she was so tired that she couldn't sleep. She still remembered the taste of that little red fruit.
She still sat on that little stone bench every Midsummer's.
Life. She had three lives now. She had the life before Will. She had the life after Will. She still loved the life she had WITH Will a trillion times more than she loved the other two.
She still sat on that little stone bench every Midsummer's.
And in all those five years, sixteen days, four hours and twenty two minutes, she still loved him more than anybody in the world has ever loved.
But does life really go on?
She made new friends. She learnt how to laugh again. She learnt how to smile again, without Will. But she still felt a child without the warmth of his arms. Had she moved on with her life, or had she simply created a new one?
Fantasies. She still dreamed that they would meet again. Will would (after a bad day) would save her from Dame Hannah. He would come to her world disguised and they would marry and have children. Will would come and she her, somehow, and kiss her.
She still sat on that little stone bench every Midsummer's.
Sometimes she was still a kid. Sometimes she still cried herself to sleep. Sometimes she still wrote bad poetry. Sometimes she still craved for Will's arms to be around hers. Sometimes, she still wanted to open up a new portal, and screw all those that got hurt...
But there was still one thing that kept her.
She still sat on that little stone bench every Midsummer's.
=============================================================
Disclaimer: Screw disclaimers.
Summary: Lyra and Will still sit at the bench every midsummer's. But is it possible to open up a portal between the worlds by love alone? =============================================================
It had been five years, sixteen days, four hours and twenty minutes since she had seen Will.
Five years is a long time. Five years at St Sophia's is infinity.
She had grown up. She had dated boys, but none of them like Will.
Boys who were charming, gracious and sweet. They were the ones who the other girls wanted- the ones that showered her with presents, gifts and chocolates. So different from Will, that she couldn't even begin to make the comparison that her heart so wanted her to do...
Lyra had passed through her years. She kissed boys. She laughed with girls. She wrote bad poetry. She cried herself to sleep because so and so weren't speaking to her. She still lied shamelessly, and tucked away, kept her Oxford speech.
She still sat on that little stone bench every Midsummer's.
St Sophia's. She met other girls. She learnt how to dance. She learnt how to do her hair, and makeup. She learnt what to say to people. She learnt grace and elegance/ She still ran through the street of Oxford sometimes, and once or twice she still threw mud at the Brick Burners children.
She still sat on that little stone bench every Midsummer's.
Growing up. She graduated. She smiled. She laughed. She still felt as safe and as sound in Ma Costa's warm arms.
She still sat on that little stone bench every Midsummer's.
Memories. She had new memories now. She remembered her first kiss without Will- a fumbling, un emotional kiss in the dark. She remembered the bad poetry she wrote. She remembered days so rushed and hectic that she was so tired that she couldn't sleep. She still remembered the taste of that little red fruit.
She still sat on that little stone bench every Midsummer's.
Life. She had three lives now. She had the life before Will. She had the life after Will. She still loved the life she had WITH Will a trillion times more than she loved the other two.
She still sat on that little stone bench every Midsummer's.
And in all those five years, sixteen days, four hours and twenty two minutes, she still loved him more than anybody in the world has ever loved.
But does life really go on?
She made new friends. She learnt how to laugh again. She learnt how to smile again, without Will. But she still felt a child without the warmth of his arms. Had she moved on with her life, or had she simply created a new one?
Fantasies. She still dreamed that they would meet again. Will would (after a bad day) would save her from Dame Hannah. He would come to her world disguised and they would marry and have children. Will would come and she her, somehow, and kiss her.
She still sat on that little stone bench every Midsummer's.
Sometimes she was still a kid. Sometimes she still cried herself to sleep. Sometimes she still wrote bad poetry. Sometimes she still craved for Will's arms to be around hers. Sometimes, she still wanted to open up a new portal, and screw all those that got hurt...
But there was still one thing that kept her.
She still sat on that little stone bench every Midsummer's.
=============================================================