Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Writing Wednesday

The barely clean windows reflected candle-lit memories back to her. She stared past them, into the velvety night, as she sat in a cozy tavern bedroom. She had traveled so many, that they all looked the same, with age-worn wooden headboards polished with beeswax, and well-trodden rugs that had once known exotic colors now covering creaking floors. Before, she would have caroused in the common room, her honest laughter and unapparent wittiness surrounding her with friends and soon-to-be friends. But no longer.

A shadow of anonymity had dampened her spirit.

Those that truly had known her were gone. And so entrenched had she been in that familiarity that she had blocked others out at the time. Now there were none to take their place. Oh, there were new smiles and promises of friendship given, but all without substance--social cordialities passed on as easily as gossip.

Not that she hadn’t tried. Was still trying, she sometimes felt. Had she changed? Or had she been just a nothingness attached to others and thus became special? Or was there something about her that no one could see anymore?

She gently touched her cool forehead, and a gentle whisper of wind alighted against the guttering flames, darkening the room around her. A soft murmur from the bed, with a rustling of sheets, turned her head to the figure sleeping there.

A gentle smile curved on her lips, catching the moon’s light filtering in. She had him, at least. But her gaze watered slightly, as she turned to look back out into the darkness. Was it selfish that she wanted just a little more? That sometimes she needed something--someone--a little different?

A tear sloped down a cheek in loneliness, refusing to answer.


Original template © to

Back to TOP