I suppose I have abandoned writing for a while. I am the most inconsistent writer that ever lived. And I really do mean that. My personal life is a mess and the reason I haven't been writing as much is because I am never 'still' enough to write something decent. If I put pen to paper (or in this case, my fingers to the keyboard), I would spill all my selfish troubles and heartache instead of really writing something meaningful, or fun, or at least something worth reading. But here I am, trying to get my writing underway again and so I want to write about something which I love (I've always been in love with Narnia and no drama in life can ever change that). I hope whoever reads this would leave a review. I don't even know if anyone's reading this story, but I want to write it just the same. Leave me a comment, bad or good. Reviews are always appreciated! Happy holiday to all of you!
Mistletoe
'Hey, look. Mistletoe' he pointed upwards and she followed his gaze. Sure enough, there it was, hanging almost teasingly from the richly decorated ceiling. She could not help but think that it was such a classic line for men to deliver when attempting to kiss a girl under the mistletoe. No fanfare, no seducing—just a plain and simple statement of something which all of them can see with their own eyes. It was almost novel-like, Lucy would have scowled. Edmund would have sniggered and Peter...
'Is something wrong?'
His voice woke Susan from her reverie and she quickly tore her gaze away from the mistletoe, finally looking at the young man in front of her. George Crampton was a Navy officer: tall, blond and with a twinkle in his charming blue eyes. Susan still could not believe her sheer luck of finding him. How many young dashing British navy officers could one find in America? Really?
She studied his face again. His hair was cut short in the navy style but it was impossible not to notice its natural blond colour. There were a few adorable freckles on his nose and he was clean-shaven (Susan could never really find a man with a beard that attractive). He had the habit of smiling at the corner of his mouth, his lips twitching up in the most irresistible manner. It was this daring smile that had enchanted Susan in the first place, him giving her that smile from across the room at the British Consul party a couple of nights back. George was not smiling now. Instead, his eyes were narrowed in concern and he wore a confused expression on his face. However, the two of them were, Susan started to realize, exceptionally close. Both his hands were on her arms, the tip of their toes almost touching and his nose only a few inches away from hers.
'Susan...?'
'Oh, I'm so sorry' she flustered, giving him one of her embarrassed smiles (she had begun to realize it worked wonders on young men and had been practicing to perfect it) 'I was...drifting away for a bit'
George smiled back apologetically, for, despite his many flaws, he was that sort of fellow. However, the next question he asked simply threw Susan quite off-guard, 'Thinking of home?'
If she was unsettled, the young girl did not fully portray it. Her eyes simply looked down quite quickly but then, as if she realized what she had done, Susan fixed them firmly upon George again.
'Oh, well, not really...' she simpered and entwined her fingers with his, 'It just feels strange, being someplace else for Christmas, that's all'
'At least, well...' here George smiled his smile again, and Susan (we really must find it in our hearts to forgive her for it), could not help but feel quite lightheaded at the sight.
'At least what, George?' she prompted, for it is impossible for a girl like Susan not to do so in such a situation.
'At least...' began George again in a hopeful, half-teasing tone, 'At least...you have me?'
And then that was when Susan did it. She leaned in to close the distance between them and kissed him, pressing her lips strongly yet sweetly against his. He returned the gesture in a manner which confirmed her belief that he had been waiting for this moment since he had first laid eyes on her. In that moment, Susan did not spare a thought on how ridiculously cliché all of this was. She did not even bother to reflect on what would come next. She was just alone today on Christmas , far from home and he was this charming, irresistible young man in a navy uniform who would do absolutely anything for her. It was almost too classic, too 'black and white film', for her to even get her head around. Amidst all of this, amidst all of the thoughts that were rushing into Susan's lightheaded mind all at once, a fraction of those thoughts were, surprisingly, on her siblings.
Lucy would have scowled. Edmund would have sniggered and Peter...
Peter would have worried, a small voice inside her mind supplied.
He would, but Peter isn't here, excused Susan.
So she bit her bottom lip and smiled glowingly up at the young man before her, who had a winning, almost rebellious look in his eyes.
'Merry Christmas, George' said she.
He grinned down at her and pressed his lips to her cheek, whispering softly into her ear, 'Merry Christmas, Susan'
Oh, God. That turned out to be...different! I know Susan cannot be in America during Christmas but, while writing this, she almost screamed at me as if to say she must be in America. So, well, she got her way! I've always thought America is where Susan slowly goes astray. At first I wanted to write something heart warming about Christmas but this became the end result. I suppose something is terribly wrong with me! However, there might be something truly Christmassy and happy coming your way soon. You may never know with me! Ha! Anyway, PLEASE review! And again, Happy early Christmas! May you have a better, and a more satisfying one, than my Susan! Cheers!
