Category : Stories

Sub Category : Romance

“I never imagined in my wildest dream that a writer could make so much of so little.  All this from an idea that sparked from my touch?” She says indicating the stack of paper in front of her.

Her voice sung like a harp expertly plucked by the finest musician.  This woman is the kind of girl who inspires works of art wherever she goes.  “That’s how fiction work goes.  I don’t get huge resources of evidence, paperwork and testimonials from survivors to tell a story.  I have only the characters I imagine and an idea of things to come.  From the inception I am but a recorder of events and the characters the actors in a grand play.”

“I just had a thought, since you did such a fantastic job telling a story from this era, what if you told a story about other times in history?”

“You mean like a saga of love stories over time?  Hmm that’s fascinating!  I wonder if I could make some underlying theme through all of them, like beyond being a tragedy.”  I reply excitedly feeling the spark of inspiration start to form.

“Sounds like your already inspired.”

“Almost, I need a new era…”

She reaches out and touches my hand to encourage me.  “I am certain you will figure something out.”

A new memory comes to mind as her touch electrifies my senses.

I blink and find myself in wheat fields somewhere I don’t recognize.  A small stone building of primitive design stands nearby but in the memory it doesn’t feel out of place. 

The air smells cleaner than any I have ever known.  On the wind is the distinct smell of sweet blue bell flowers, though I can’t place why I know that.  The remnants of a chill in the air tell me it is springtime.  Among the clean air, the spring, and the flowers, I know there is still another thing nearby that has me excited.

From behind me I hear a call like a songbird on the breeze.  “Richard?  Are you coming?”

I look to the source of the voice.  There is a young girl standing in the fields in her plain dress the wind tussling her hair this way and that.

Back in the cafe as suddenly as I left I smile at Eve.  “Seems your touch provides again.”

“Another idea from a touch of the hand? Certainly a coincidence.”

“It would seem so, but I have learnt to never believe in coincidence.”

“Oh? So your saying that every time I touch you, something happens to inspire you?  Next thing I know your going to want to sleep with me to find out what kind of inspiration you could get from that.”

“Sleep with you?” I repeat suddenly confused by the inference.  “I actually never had it come to mind.”

“So you don’t want to sleep with me?  Am I that horrible to look at?”  She returns more hostile than before.

“Woah, hold on, is this some kind of trap?  I feel like there is nothing I can say here that is going to go well for me.”

She taps the tip of her nose.

“Your a clever girl.  Look, as far as I’m concerned if I only ever got to hold your hand for seconds, once a year for the rest of my life, I would call myself the most blessed man in the world for being the guy that gets to hold your hand once a year and I would never care if I was ever inspired by you again.”

“That, that’s the sweetest thing I have ever heard.  You barely know me but yet you seem to believe that I am someone divinely special to you.  How do you know I am not just some soul sucking drain on your bank account waiting to happen?”

“Even if that’s all you become, right here, right now, in this moment, I feel something that I have been missing my whole life.  I know it seems strange for me to feel like this so early in getting to know you, especially when I don’t even know your last name.  In the end of the day I know only this.  You bring a light to my life that I want to embrace for as long as it glows.  If I am being too forward with you, you can walk away and never speak to me again if that is what you wish.”

She begins to sit there, staring in thought about what I said.  I wait with my heart on the table.  As I wait, I wish I had not played my heart so soon and exposed myself to such risk.  If she rejects me I most likely will recover with another scar to write about.  When I am being truly honest with myself though, the perfect response right Now is for her to admit she feels the same way.  Now I can only wait and see.

After a few minutes of thought, she quietly stands up from the table.  She wordlessly collects her belongings and walks out of the cafe into the street without looking back.

Another scar.