ed note: a Rashomon beginning, sorta.
Trev leaned on the railing, the ocean before glittering as a field of diamonds as the stars above gave yield to the rising moon.
"Beautiful moonrise," said Em.
Trev turned. "Not nearly as beautiful as your smile."
-----
Trev stood before the ocean, chest out like the figurehead on the bow of a ship, rail holding his waist in tow. Em floated from the cottage, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, her hair falling on his chest, cheek on cheek, smiles felt rather than seen.
"I love you baby."
"Like a fish loves the sea."
"Come back inside then, and swim up my stream."
-----
Upon the shimmering ocean, a thousand tiny waves winked silent salutations. Trev smiled, drew breath, chest expanding, arms braced on the rail. Em approached, her sheer gown fluttering in soft night breeze.
"Boo."
"Hey."
-----
The wooden deck looked gray under the pale moon light, shadows extending like fingers into the cottage from his angular frame. Em smiled. Trev looked angelic in the cool light of night, his hair spiked from nocturnal activities, waving like long grass in the evening breeze. With nary a cloud on the horizon, the moon loomed above the horizon, his chiseled jaw silhouetted within the circumference of light.
"Beautiful."
"Yes."
"I didn't mean the moon."
-----
The cottage stood in the night as it had stood ten thousand nights before, almost. They say the light from a home changes in tone to the love within. From a distance, they said, the little cottage on the hill, that night, shone with a warmth no one in the village could ever remember seeing before. The light was not brighter; in fact, it was not anything anyone could put their finger on. Yet, undeniably, something was different and they all agreed, that difference made the labor of the day worth the warmth of the pillow.
-----
Soundtrack: Brooke Fraser's Hymn
20 comments:
When you get stuck as to what to say after the opening paragraph, just write it again and then again and again and one more time for good measure. I decided to stop at five lest anyone surmise I'm losing my mind, which I will neither confirm nor deny. ;-)
Peace
You write love stories in every paragraph, Tree...
Annie, your comment touches me more than I know to say. Thank you. :-)
I was just thinking how to interpret this post when I read the title....thalassic, as in thalassaemia? Went to check the dictionary, and found that thalassic means relating in inland sea, as in the Greek thalassa sea. Ah, that makes sense now, when I recalled that thalassaemia, when translated into other languages, referred to a type of blood disorder in the mediterranean area.
And then I saw the word Rashomon, and I was thinking, :D, you know what I mean when I say some politicians are so Rashomon.
Saffy, you make me smile. I used Thalassic (relating to the sea, from the Greek sea so named) because I picture the cottage and the sea it overlooks to be similar to the Greek Isles in look and feel. Thanks for taking the time to look up the word--I feel it gives a flavor to the chapter needed to complete the picture I have in my head. :-)
Tree,
You are welcome :)
Please come get your award tomorrow (Monday morning the 7th after 9:00 a.m. PST)
:)
Loving Annie
Oooooh, Annie, I can't wait. :-D
See you tomorrow. I'll bring the coffee if you bring the cake. :-)
The five examples of this one particular evening shown as they are accompanied by the, in a word, elevating music creates a seal around them and though one knows these are descriptions are essentially of one and the same, to read them this way, it is as though time is passing, the situation, similar, comes upon them again as such things do, he outside under the moon, she joining him. It reminded me of the video where the couple are shown in their car at the drive-in through the stages of their life as they remain in love. The sense of endlessness is potent. Not of the moment perhaps, as such, but of love. Not sure if I am making much sense, but this chapter, and the music is a part of that, is so incredibly affecting I don’t know that I can put words to why or how.
So,
loveliness within all. Am glad that you showed us them all. Something new yet again, something wonderful yet again
Sweetest, this chapter is the second time I've employed this technique, although for the same reason--stuck as to where I wanted to take it and an abundance of ideas about how to start it. :-D
I could have written five more openings and had actually started a sixth but decided the reader probably had had enough after five. I love playing with a single idea and seeing how many different ways I can craft the scene, how many different angles I can find to shed light and thus make the whole more full, deeper, more 3D as I like to say. I hope that when all five openings are considered, the picture painted of those 30 seconds is richer than any one standing alone. And, if you can read and listen to the music at the same time, well, the experience just grows. ;-)
As always, thanks for the very kinds words. :-)
Tree, sometimes the characters are just so good and so comfortably known, you don't even have to say anything more. :)
Don't worry, we can take it from here... ;)
My favorite one was "I didn't mean the moon."
--snow
Thank you Snow. Let me know if your ending is different from mine. :-D
Imagine that Y. What was I thinking? :-D
Hiya Trée, always a pleasure to visit, and be absorbed in the story.
Thank you for your kind comments on my poetry.
Your writing is extraordinary. You have quite a magical way with words.
Deb, always a pleasure to have you stop by and say hello. Hope you guys are surviving the heat. :-)
Athena, I've only read a few of your poems, but from what I've read your talent is neither ordinary nor labored. Your poems have a living, breathing quality to them and the words seem to simmer on my tongue, susurrating endearments warm and sultry begging me to stay a little longer, laugh a little louder and dance without inhibition within the beauty of your mind.
Snake Charmer. I think in a former life you may have been a snake charmer. Or Valentino.
:)
Jen
Jen, me thinks you give me too much credit. :-)
And me thinks the boy protest too much!
It is fun reading you Tree when your imagination is captured. Your writing takes on a zing like there is lightening in the air.
Maybe it is MY imagination that is working over time. Who knows? But it seems that your work has a Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter at times, depending on your mood.
You seem quite Springy right now!
:D
Jen, I usually only write when I am moved and I think what you have described so well is that movement can be up or down, happy or sad, frustrated or excited--and, like the weather, what moves me can change from day to day--well, no can, does change from day to day. And, the writing reflects that landscape. Keeps things interesting. :-D
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