Author's notes: HEEEEELZ YEAH BITCHES, IM ON A ROLL!!

Turn the handle

His voice was so soft, so soothing. Each pause and silence acted as an extension of his sentence; his voice ringing with unclaimed confidence. Every inflection of his tone sent anxiety down my spine. No, it wasn't anxiety; it was longing.

So many years, so much time, and yet my feelings have managed to amplify instead of decrease. I thought that he was just another memory pushed into the back of my mind, but he was here now. I wanted so badly to see his face. More than anything in the world, I wanted to see my knight's face.

The sun was slowly awakening from it's nightly slumber, crawling lazily above the distant trees. Slivers of light began to illuminate the otherwise dim field; although, still not enough to light the faces of my guests.

They walked by, blissfully unaware of my form in the window. From the sound of their hushed voices - or should I say 'voice,' because the female seemed to do most of the talking – I could only guess that they were almost at the end of the two parallel buildings: the barn and house.

Somehow I managed to wretched myself from the window. My fingers hung limply by my side, too sore to even flex. Unintentionally, I had gripped my already raw hands so tightly onto the window pain that I know longer felt them. But I cared so little about my fingers at the moment; the only thing I wanted to do was see him before I woke up from this dream.

Agonizing can be the only word that could describe what I felt as I ran out of my room and down the stairs, ignoring the loud squawks of the awakening cookoo. Every ache and bruise on my had body dissipated by the time I reached the door that led to the outside. The doorknob was heavy in my hand as I turned it.

My deep breath was riddled with tremors as I attempted to calm myself.

This was everything I had ever wanted in my life; it was lay right in front of me, begging me to take it.

All I had to do was open the door . . .

My hand faltered.

What if this is just a dream? I can't imagine the horror that this will do on my mind if this turned out to be fake. But if I don't do this, regret will burn at me worse than loneliness. Despair will come to me either way.

I opened the door.