I entered a contest a while back. I didn’t win. Or even place this time. Which stings. But it’s okay. It’s okay, because I always pay extra to receive a serving of critique alongside my disappointment. And sometimes. When I’m lucky. It ends up making my disappointment taste like dessert.
Yes, there were words like, uneven and cliche (ouch) but the words that really stood out for me were…wonderful imagery, mind-blowing, my favourite sentence and I would enjoy reading more by this author.
And all of that makes me want to grow. Be better.
What’s not sweet about that?
Anyhow, here’s my story:
Missing Love
He fills with words that will only reach the earth, he’s been warned, should they carry their weight in truth. The sweat of his pudgy finger crimps the creases he’s so carefully folded, and he pulls himself in tight, hurling his most sincere spirit into what he must believe will be an accepting unknown…
It can be hard to remember how something began. Details fuzzy and timing, non-specific. But Elian and Luna are not spared in this way. The moment that first child disappeared is forever cut into their hearts. After all, watching someone fade is not easily forgotten. To see them laughing one minute and evaporating the next like a recalled raindrop, hangs heavy in their atmosphere.
Long before despair scraped its way to the core like a surgeon’s scalpel, this small town had been a home. They’d lived in colourful houses. Slept in cozy beds. Trailed fingertips through the fountain and sacrificed pennies for precious wishes. They’d even believed they could swing high enough for their toes to touch the hopeful stars.
But as children began to vanish one by one, so did the bliss.
Panic took the place of the light hearts that once filled the streets. Terrified mothers imagined mass murders. Undiscovered bodies. Fathers waited with shotguns at the ready for an evil that would never show its face. Paranoia and mourning became a way of life for this once content little place.
Time passed and slowly the township reached a decision to try and understand rather than fight. And as they deliberated, they became shamefully aware that those who’d faded were solely the ones conceived outside of love. Their beginnings had cultivated from the seed of greed. Selfishness. Or pride. Some spawned from lust. Envy. And some, simply a product of rash disregard.
Slowly, the town determined that not one of the lost had bloomed from a pure moment of tenderness or a sincere form of love.
And, as is human nature, they were eager to replace what was gone. To fix the broken. Fill the void. And so, no lesson learned, they attempted to conceive through what could only be deemed as despair. But their loveless efforts refused to bear the fruits they once had and their barren souls remained smothered in empty darkness.
Now, as Elian and Luna make their way to the fountain, unearthly quiet fills the creeks and crevices. Swings sway loosely in the intermittent wind, their rusty chains straining against a tongue-tied backdrop. The two maneuver through the littered streets, Luna’s fingers curving around Elian’s palm. Long and loose like the limbs of a weeping willow.
The park feels smaller now, its surrounding fence halting at their hips. And they loom over jungle gym bars they couldn’t even reach at three feet tall. Roots of now massive Oaks have thrust through the dusty earth. Tossed the time-warped slide upside down. A wavy serpent. Vacant face peering upward. And a carousel cocked on its side lies like a forgotten toy on a nursery room floor.
But today is unlike any of the many days they’ve ambled this same path. The waterless fountain urges them on, its surrounding air fused with static. A vibrating hum pulling them to it like the towropes that had once hauled them up to the highest of mountaintops. They carry no pennies. Only wishes. And with no words, they hear what the other is thinking. With one glance, they feel what the other is feeling. One touch and they want what the other is wanting.
They are one.
Elian turns and presses his lips to Luna’s forehead. They stand this way for some time, paused in the moment between what was, what is and what could be. Most gave up. Some moved on. Others simply bided their time. Waiting. Withering. Becoming ash between the sheets. But Luna and Elian had only grown stronger. Looked after one another.
Flourished. Together.
And now they stand at the fountain’s edge. Luna’s lemon coattails flapping in the wind. Elian’s dark curls shifting freely over his brow. He takes her hand in his once more. Waits as the sky begins to change. Magnificent hues kaleidoscope into shapes and patterns. Azures and indigos fold into amethysts and tangerines. They believe it to be the most beautiful thing they have ever seen.
And for a brief moment, it is.
Until a small white tip, the determined nose of a well-intentioned craft, breaks through a slit in the sky’s colourful curtain and glides gracefully, softly, silently into the hearts of their two accepting souls.
This is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen.
Luna feels the stir. Almost sees the pudgy finger. Elian reaches down to touch the swell of colours that cascade from the sky and stretch across her belly.
“Welcome, little one.” He whispers. “This is love.”
Hazy Shades of Me 