A thought I had recently. Tell me if it should stay a one-shot, or become something more. Who do you think the characters are?
I don't own anything.
The girl sat upon the the plush chair, an old tome in her hands and a smile on her face. The pages were yellowed, the binding creased, and the cover worn smooth from repeated readings. She sighed, her eyes sparkling in the light of the fire, while the warmth settled over her like a blanket as she closed her book. She loved exploring all of the volumes that lined the shelves in the room, this being the third book she finished today. She moved to the carpet in front of the fire where she curled up and let her eyes wonder over the dark oak shelves, her mind taking her to another place, another time.
The night was young and the moon was high. Crickets chirped and leaves fluttered as they floated in the breeze. The sound of tinkling glass and laughter filtered through the open doors. On the balcony, alone, a young woman stood, watching as the night's festivities spilled out into the gardens below. The band started playing an old tune that she didn't recognize, but she swayed along none the less. As she watched, men and women came together, making pairs, and started a dance. Twirling and spinning and moving. To her, it was entrancing, hypnotic; a tale of love. Wistfully, she let her gaze drift over the lake as the dark waves softly rolled onto shore.
The song ended and a slow ballad picked up. The girl started twirling and twirling, throwing her head back to laugh. Her tinkling laughter floated down, causing a few heads to turn, trying to find the source of the sound. She continued her dance, the folds of her dress opening and spinning with her.
Suddenly, the space in front of her was filled, another body pressed against her, spinning with her, moving with her. They moved too fast for the music, but neither cared. All that was, was them. All that would be, was them. Her hand in his, his arm around her waist, their eyes locked together. The dancers in the gardens stopped, one pair at a time, to watch the the couple on the balcony complete a complex duet, that came from a feeling of oneness. The dance told a story, one of love and peace, but the true story couldn't have been more different. It had been hard work to get where they were, together, but they were content now.
As the song ended the couple slowed to a halt, gazing into eachother's eyes. Their crowd waited on baited breath, waiting for what the two would next. The man lowered his head, meeting the girl's ready lips. As the applause reached their ears, their eyes glinted together in silent understanding. As one, they turned and left the party behind, going through the open doors, and leaving the now silent garden below.
Had they known what would happen, would things have been different? Would she have made different decisions? Had he known, would he have decided the risks were too great? Would he have given up what he had? As the front door opened, and their gazes met, she knew. Neither of them would change a thing. They worked hard to get where they were, sacrifices were made by both, losses by both. As he picked her up from the floor, he knew that he would never give this life up. Not for anything he lost or anything he could gain. This was where they were meant to be: together.