Plot: Ernst weighs out his future with the two very 'diverse' paths he has created for himself.
Inspiration word: Balance
(8) My dear lord and Sinning
I can't begin to imagine how this came upon me; my yearning to honor my dear lord and this bitter- sweet desperation for something sinful.
The peaceful, warm breeze flutters through the tall grass of the hill. Sheer white cuts through the green forming into an eventual steeple.
Harmonious melodies leak from inside, reaching out to dance upon the everlastingly rolling hills to grace the ears of those who pass by. Biblical excerpts drank in by my many spectators; eyes full of belief and shared understanding.
Blonde and breathtakingly beautiful, she sits in the first pew, smile bore and cheeks warmed by a proud honor to be mine: the pastor's wife.
Youthful, our children sit along side her, heads bowed in a prayer for a sinless world. Their instinctive innocence contradicts with all I have taught them, leaving their minds aged significantly further then their physical forms.
The youngest takes my hand; blonde curls bouncing with each step we took down the aisle, her enthusiasm causing an upbeat rhythm to her walk.
After the mass, stories are read, the children lay their darling heads upon their pillows as my wife and I share a gentle kiss: beautiful in it's simplicity.
As we close our eyes, the sun sets leaving a solemn silence upon the hills.
A cold wind shudders through the previous still of the morning, leaving behind an uncomfortable reality to the small room. The open window reveals a grayed sky, calming in itself.
Continuous droplets of water ping against the stone floor: individually disturbing the silence of the space. Footsteps add to the water as feet rush across the chilled floor, a muffled giggle escapes from the mouth of the innocent interruption.
Scrawled messages of passion and admiration cover the walls; timeless poetry against cheap pine. Two distinctive scriptures are noticeable to the bystander; an exchange between the two is obvious. Shared sentiments spilled onto the white sheets and tacked to the walls.
Blonde and breathtakingly beautiful, he sits on the rickety, aged, wooden chair; smirk bore as his pale complexion reveals his utter indifference and sense of independence.
He lifts his chin towards the ceiling, anxiety seeping from his unfocused eyes, praying for me to say the first words of the day.
Enlisting my muscles, I push myself from out under the blankets. Lightly, I press my palm against his. Capturing his attention, his icy blue eyes melt as my eyes met his.
After his moment of panic, he lowers his head, resting his forehead against mine. Letting a breath escape from his pursed lips, it's warm against my cheek.
Capturing my lips aggressively, he lets the anxious temptation build into an intense passion as our mouths connect.
As we open our eyes, the sun begins to break through the gray cold of the morning.
The obvious adoration I saw in her eyes was almost enough for me to give up my life to the church, TODAY! Yet his condescending smirk called me back to the comforting rebellion he had created.
My two fantasies were at a perfect imbalance
End story.
PLEASE R&R!!
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