Twilight= Not mine

This chapter hit me a little hard, you see. The people I'm writing about are (where) real. This chapter is actually the first chapter I wrote and then developed the story around it. This was my inspiration, so it made me cry while I wrote it. It still makes me cry when I read it again today (funny while I was checking for spealing errors or shoud I say horrors, LOL) But you get the point.

Ok, If your as sentimental and want love in it's puressed form then hurry and get a tissue. I'll wait….. (doo da doo da doo)

Ok, ready?

Enjoy!

Chapter 18

On one of the travels I come to a place with a man on a concrete bench, he is old and wrinkled, his face is familiar.

I have seen him before; he's been in my path several times but has refused passage.

Now he sits here, his clothing are worn, his once deep blue eyes are now a little dull; his face once handsome and dreamlike is now wrinkled with age.

His skin still has the smell of alcohol.

Once a heavy drinker, now a successful case of recovering alcoholic.

His eyes are pleading.

He finally lost her.

She was his light in this dark world he lived in for many years.

Giving him love, understanding, children, joy and now the sadness and ache of her absence.

She was very young when he meet her.

Lovely green eyes, dark- almost black- long curly hair. The smile of a nymph and the body of a goddess.

There was true love in there relationship, true companionship, and most of all true understanding and compassion.

She lived in an altered state; she was more angel than woman.

He knew this and loved her for it.

So when she received her call from our Lord, she was much too worried, about them all, she knew she had done her duty and loved every second, she thought that he still needed her.

He would always will, they're love was so encompassing that they lived for eachother.

So now that she's been gone for a few months, he calls on me.

He's a smart man, a very lyrical poetic man, he calls on me with idols and his poems, he fights and yells, his boisterous character is more pronounced now that he doesn't have his anchor, his heaven, his Raquel.

He sits, in this concrete bench in the cold of night with his mug of coffee and his sad eyes.

He needs me now; he wants to be with her.

But he knows that it will take time.

Part 2 of this tomorrow. Please let me know if you're enjoying it…or not!