Okay, except for Midwinter, but I'm too lazy to write that blog. I promise I'll blog when we do another camping weekend, okay?
Oh, right, and I quit Italian.
But anyway, nothing overly big and exciting has been happening, so today's blog is just going to be me sharing some writing - it's definitely been too long since I posted any of my work for you to read.
Today's piece is just a very short piece, which doesn't have a title yet so extra points if you comment and think of a good one. I'm not really sure what (if anything) I'm going to do with it yet. I was thinking it might be the start of a good romance, or even maybe some kind of horror/ghost story (think about that one after reading and see if you can imagine what I am imagining there).
Also, for a fun analytical exercise, try comparing this piece to "Just a Paragraph of Prose," which I posted here in February. They're both kind of romance-y pieces so it might be interesting to spot common themes or something (I don't know how bored everyone is at the moment).
As always your comments are more than welcome, in fact they are encouraged. Enjoy!
"Do you think you could ever fall in love?"
"No," she said, perfectly casual, but in a voice that suggested absolute certainty.
"Oh."
He stopped walking, right there in the middle of the disused road they walked, between old warehouses and the sea wall. Her next two steps crunched loud in the gravel before their linked hands stopped her too.
"Why not?" he said.
She looked quizzically at him and said, "why not what?"
"Why don't you think you could fall in love?"
A troubled look passed over her face, and she sighed. It was a big sigh, a great, heaving sigh, as if she knew that she was about to face a difficult task. In a weather change so apt it could have been scripted, the wind picked up and the salt spray made him shiver, though she ignored it.
"Charlie, when you think of love, what do you think of?" She didn't let him answer. "Valentine's Day?"
"Uh, sure. I guess so."
He was a little confused. Charlie had never really spoken to his girlfriend about love before, but he certainly hadn't expected such ice in her tone, or the anger that he'd heard when she spat out the name of the February fourteenth holiday.
"You're wrong, Charlie," she said, and again continued speaking even though he opened his mouth to reply. "Love is not Valentine's Day. It's not hearts, or flowers. It's not adorable couples. It's not kissing your girlfriend at the back of the class."
Charlie blushed for them both at the mention of that memory, and zipped his jacket up a little higher. When his tongue swept quickly across his dry lips, he could taste salt.
"It's not cute," she finished.
"Oh. Okay."
After a moment he began to walk again, hoping that she would too. After five steps, she did and quickly caught up with him. Their steps fell into time, so that anyone listening to the crunch of the gravel beneath their feet would only have heard one walker. A huge spray of water blew at them, and Charlie took his girlfriend's hand again, their fingers interlocking, and pulled her over to walk closer to the warehouses, away from the ocean.
"The thing is, Maggie," he said, licking his lips in nervousness and tasting the salt again, "I think I'm in love with you."
It was her turn to stop walking, dropping his hand almost violently.
"Didn't you hear me? Love is not what you think it is. It's not cute."
"Well, then, what is it Maggie?" he asked, finally getting annoyed.
He zipped his jacket up just a bit higher again, then folded his arms and gave his floppy hair a shake.
Maggie took a deep breath and let it out as slowly as she could. She was shaking a little, and knew that Charlie would think she was cold. He wouldn't even imagine how angry she was. It was almost a relief to have the chill breeze blowing and the salty mist from the ocean spraying them with that persistent, and oh-so-natural rhythm.
"Listen to me, Charlie, and listen well because I'm not going to say this to you again. Love is not cute. It isn't happy, or nice."
Charlie folded his arms tighter to his chest, He couldn't believe how angry Maggie was. He could see her shivering and hoped it was just the cold. When he'd asked his original question he'd expected a simple response, an easy answer, something like, "maybe, one day." He hadn't intended to start an argument.
"Love, Charlie? Love is maddening. Love is painful. And beyond all other things it is terrible and shocking and devastating."
He frowned, thinking. She stood there in the silence, tasting salt in the air as passion made her breathe more heavily than usual. Slowly, she began to calm.
Charlie reached for her hand. Maggie let him take it, trying to get the peace. They began to walk again; they were nearly past the warehouse and onto paved road, off the gravel, about to head up the hill and away from the angry sea.
"Well anyway," Charlie said, when he was satisfied that he had mulled it all over for long enough, "I'm still pretty sure that I'm in love with you."
The speed with which Maggie tore her hand away from his was blinding. They both stopped walking, this time in perfect unison. She looked at him. Although she slowly shook her head at him, the gesture was hardly needed. The look she gave him managed to encompass her sadness and her blazing fury. She turned and walked away, choosing an alternate route home.
Charlie was left shivering in the wind, utterly perplexed and newly single.
Okay, well that's it. I would love to hear your comments. I think there are some really corny clichés in there, but overall it's not that bad is it? Maybe a little self-aware, especially closer to the end? Also, let me know if there's too much dialogue, and as always I'm especially interested in anything you have to say about setting. I was also trying really hard to incorporate different kinds of imagery, like smell and taste. Please please please comment if you have any opinion whatsoever!
Thanks for reading,
♥Nancy♫
