The place reeked of alcohol and sweat. This was my first big party I'd ever gone too, and I already had my fill of it. The heavy feeling around the air bothered me. It was like some heavy hand of punishment looming over you, knowing as soon as you stop the party, that hand will smash down and crush the little dignity you had left after drinking your worries away. I wanted nothing to do with it, really. I just needed to get away.
The moonlit sky cast vague shadows of things not there—it was the perfect situation for my mind to trick me in to seeing things I was not. One thing did stand out in the distance. That tree. When we were kids, we named it the Lonely Tree. It was the only tree still standing on the dune after the storm ten years ago. Sure, there were sprouts here and there, but nothing organic was as quite as tall as the Lonely Tree for miles along the dunes. I could hear the waves splashing in the distance. That reminded me of the storm.
I couldn't see anything. I was in blind panic for a few seconds, and then I realized that a cloud had just passed over the moon. As if compelled by my thoughts, the cloud drifted away. I slowly walked away from the house towards the Lonely Tree. Even after all these years, we still called it the Lonely Tree. I remember when my dad and I built that bench that's sitting right under the left side. It was not comfortable at all. Despite that, I found it comforting to sit on my own handiwork... well, at least one third of it.
“Funny seeing you out here, John. I'd of thought you'd be inside. It's mighty cold out now.”
I turned around, seeing Sarah. I had known her since we were little, probably four or five. Her dad and my dad were best friends in high school. “Sarah, dear, what a pleasant surprise. Would you fancy a sit with me?” I butchered the English accent, but she just giggled and stood there. “What? Did I say something wrong?”
“No. It's just that you always do that when I sneak up behind you.” She giggled some more and bounced her way over to me. She gave me a giant hug, almost tackling me. “Silly! You know how you always get sick outside. Come on back inside with me. At least just to get out of the cold.”
She smelled sweet, like maybe coconut or some other tropical fragrance. I didn't smell alcohol on her breath. No surprise there—Sarah hated beer. The first time she got drunk was her last time. I was there to witness how bad it was. Tonight was my first beer. I wasn't sure I liked the taste, but everyone told me to finish it. I almost had a second one, but I decided—
“I said come on, mister birthday boy!” I started to protest but she held up her hand. “Fine, I'll let you stay out here. But I'll be back with a blanket in a minute. Just go sit on the bench.”
Silently, I obeyed. My mind kept wandering back to memories of us when we were younger. Sure, I wasn't that old, but it seemed like a lifetime away from now. I was so different then. I was happy, not morose. That was before dad and mother died. Living with Sarah's family, I can't get my mind off of how wonderful my parents were, and how much I really lost. Not that her family isn't great... I just wish I had the originals around me.
A warm sensation surrounded me. The blanket that my mother made six months before she died enveloped most of my body, my sandals poking out beneath. I felt a large, Sarah-sized plop next to me, and I smiled. I wouldn't doubt that Sarah might even qualify as my secondary mom. She was so overprotective. I couldn't take three steps without her looking after me. Not that I minded that—she was a good friend, and carried that feeling of home, of safety with her where ever she went.
“What'cha thinking about, John? You come out here too often for your own good.”
“I'm thinking about... you. I come out here to think. A man can never think too much.”
She didn't say anything. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that.”
I got up to leave, embarrassed. Sarah grabbed my arm and pulled me back down.
“Thats the sweetest thing you've ever said to me.” She leaned over and pecked me on the cheek. My face felt hot, flushed. This wasn't right—I can't think of her as a mother figure!
“I can't think of you as a mother figure!” Oops. I hadn't meant to say that out loud.
Again she said nothing, just cuddled with me a little closer. We kissed under the Lonely Tree.
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Below my posts, you will often see... Last edited by Thistledown : [Day] at XX:XX XM. Reason: typo
This is because I suck at the internet. Get used to it.
But still, you made it sweet enough, even if it was slightly surreal with the plot of childhood friends growing up and in the end, falling in love with each other. If only life were so simple for me.
The story has the typical characterization of a sweet naive guy with a sweet gentle girl but I have got to admit it works for a romantic story of this genre. You also utilized a symbol of their common past, the Lonely Tree, and orchestrated their meeting under it, with hints of some tragic past the guy had. And in the end, it all ends nicely with the promise that they will still have each other in the future. It was a typical romantic setting, but it has worked for centuries and it will continue to work for centuries to come.
It was nicely done, as it gave me a warm fuzzy feeling inside even if it made me grimaced slightly too at the sweetness of it.
The moonlit sky cast vague shadows of things not there—it was the perfect situation for my mind to trick me in to seeing things I was not. One thing did stand out in the distance. That tree. When we were kids, we named it the Lonely Tree. It was the only tree still standing on the dune after the storm ten years ago. Sure, there were sprouts here and there, but nothing organic was as quite as tall as the Lonely Tree for miles along the dunes. I could hear the waves splashing in the distance. That reminded me of the storm.
I couldn't see anything. I was in blind panic for a few seconds, and then I realized that a cloud had just passed over the moon. As if compelled by my thoughts, the cloud drifted away. I slowly walked away from the house towards the Lonely Tree. Even after all these years, we still called it the Lonely Tree. I remember when my dad and I built that bench that's sitting right under the left side. It was not comfortable at all. Despite that, I found it comforting to sit on my own handiwork... well, at least one third of it.
“Funny seeing you out here, John. I'd of thought you'd be inside. It's mighty cold out now.”
I turned around, seeing Sarah. I had known her since we were little, probably four or five. Her dad and my dad were best friends in high school. “Sarah, dear, what a pleasant surprise. Would you fancy a sit with me?” I butchered the English accent, but she just giggled and stood there. “What? Did I say something wrong?”
“No. It's just that you always do that when I sneak up behind you.” She giggled some more and bounced her way over to me. She gave me a giant hug, almost tackling me. “Silly! You know how you always get sick outside. Come on back inside with me. At least just to get out of the cold.”
She smelled sweet, like maybe coconut or some other tropical fragrance. I didn't smell alcohol on her breath. No surprise there—Sarah hated beer. The first time she got drunk was her last time. I was there to witness how bad it was. Tonight was my first beer. I wasn't sure I liked the taste, but everyone told me to finish it. I almost had a second one, but I decided—
“I said come on, mister birthday boy!” I started to protest but she held up her hand. “Fine, I'll let you stay out here. But I'll be back with a blanket in a minute. Just go sit on the bench.”
Silently, I obeyed. My mind kept wandering back to memories of us when we were younger. Sure, I wasn't that old, but it seemed like a lifetime away from now. I was so different then. I was happy, not morose. That was before dad and mother died. Living with Sarah's family, I can't get my mind off of how wonderful my parents were, and how much I really lost. Not that her family isn't great... I just wish I had the originals around me.
A warm sensation surrounded me. The blanket that my mother made six months before she died enveloped most of my body, my sandals poking out beneath. I felt a large, Sarah-sized plop next to me, and I smiled. I wouldn't doubt that Sarah might even qualify as my secondary mom. She was so overprotective. I couldn't take three steps without her looking after me. Not that I minded that—she was a good friend, and carried that feeling of home, of safety with her where ever she went.
“What'cha thinking about, John? You come out here too often for your own good.”
“I'm thinking about... you. I come out here to think. A man can never think too much.”
She didn't say anything. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that.”
I got up to leave, embarrassed. Sarah grabbed my arm and pulled me back down.
“Thats the sweetest thing you've ever said to me.” She leaned over and pecked me on the cheek. My face felt hot, flushed. This wasn't right—I can't think of her as a mother figure!
“I can't think of you as a mother figure!” Oops. I hadn't meant to say that out loud.
Again she said nothing, just cuddled with me a little closer. We kissed under the Lonely Tree.
Last edited by Thistledown : [Day] at XX:XX XM. Reason: typo
This is because I suck at the internet. Get used to it.
But still, you made it sweet enough, even if it was slightly surreal with the plot of childhood friends growing up and in the end, falling in love with each other. If only life were so simple for me.
The story has the typical characterization of a sweet naive guy with a sweet gentle girl but I have got to admit it works for a romantic story of this genre. You also utilized a symbol of their common past, the Lonely Tree, and orchestrated their meeting under it, with hints of some tragic past the guy had. And in the end, it all ends nicely with the promise that they will still have each other in the future. It was a typical romantic setting, but it has worked for centuries and it will continue to work for centuries to come.
It was nicely done, as it gave me a warm fuzzy feeling inside even if it made me grimaced slightly too at the sweetness of it.
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Hosting: Vista Mafia
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Keep up the good work. Going to add more to the story?