Andrea lives in the metro Detroit area. She's a wife and mother of 1 with another on the way, and she loves to make a fool out of herself with her family—which they do a lot of. She's an avid reader, and does so in any of her free time. Andrea is a big sports fan, a movie addict, and a major foodie; she bakes whenever she can.
Debut Weekend Extravaganza #2
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She lifted her hand to her face, her fingers fanning over her trembling lips as she looked down at the black and white photo the girl handed to her. The moment captured in the picture had been both the best and the worst in her life. Tears filled her eyes, droplets of love and sorrow brightening her sapphire eyes before falling onto her cheeks wrinkled by time. Her lips parted as she took in a shuddering breath and looked down at her granddaughter sitting by her feet.
ReplyDelete“He was the best man I’ve ever known,” she told the young girl softly. “The only one who has ever held my heart.”
She still remembered that moment as though it were yesterday. The time they had spent together in London both beautiful and frightening. The sound of heavy explosions filled her mind like ghosts demanding attention and when she closed her eyes, she found herself back in the middle of World War II. She hadn’t meant to fall in love with him. He was just another soldier that she was interviewing, someone who had said yes to sharing their story with her. He wasn’t the first one that she had interviewed in the hospital either, but even now after more than half a century, she could still remember the timbre of his voice and the power of his feather grey eyes.
“We fell in love at first sight,” she told her granddaughter. “You always hear it, but you never believe it until it happens to you. We had three beautiful months together.”
“What happened to him?” the girl asked with wide eyes.
“He gave his life to save his men. They gave him the Medal of Honor.”
(@thewolfswriting)
The sun had disappeared behind the clouds and the dreary skies seemed to reflect my mood.
ReplyDeleteI bundled up as I headed out the door. Maybe a nice walk would help me clear my mind.
Watching the happy couples walking down the street—with their hands clutching their loves—had my heart dropping. I would never have that. I would never feel the warmth of my husbands hand in mine. I would never feel the electric shock his lips sent through mine when we kissed. And I would never feel his comfort as he held me in his arms.
I would feel nothing.
I diverted my eyes and focused on the ground in front of me. Everything seemed to be getting back to normal after the war. People seemed cheerful knowing we were safe again. But I felt broken.
The war had taken more than my spirits. It took my heart.
I waited for months to have my husband come home to me. But no one ever came.
Lost in my thoughts I didn’t see anyone standing in front of me until I walked right into them.
“I’m so sorry.” I stammered as I looked up and was greeted with the same brown eyes that haunted my dreams.
He smiled down at me. “I should be apologizing that it took me so long to get back.”
I clutched his peacoat as I desperately pressed my lips to his.
That was when I felt the electric shock of his lips. I felt the warmth of his hands on my arms. And I felt the comfort of being in his embrace.
We stood kissing until we couldn’t breathe. But unlike the grey clouds, I was no longer down and sad. I was alive and well.
My heart had come back to me.
Word Count: 300
Twitter: @TinsleyWarren
@bebeginja
ReplyDeleteWord Count: 300
She was in Paris in June. I chased her for days, but she eluded me like the expert she is known to be. She even left a present for me at the front desk—a plainly wrapped box with a bright red bow. A handkerchief embroidered with her initials.
In London she left me silk stockings. I was getting close, but she was gone the moment our eyes locked outside the small pub, and I was made. How someone with such unforgettable beauty could go so far and long undetected is beyond me.
And then there was Munich in September. The way she undressed in front of the hotel room window had me believing she was on to me again. It was the perfect opportunity to finally rein her in, but I was incapacitated by the look over her shoulder. Across the street, through my binoculars, directly at me. She put on a show.
She has always managed to stay two steps ahead of me, but not this time.
This time, I’ve been patient. I abandoned the disguise and the plan.
Now, in Moscow, I’m closer than ever.
I follow her through the square in broad daylight. She would never expect me to take such a risk, but she doesn’t know the extent of her hold on me. I watch her calves that peek out from under her trench coat as she walks, and catch her scent on the breeze. I take the stairs two at a time to seize her just before she reaches street level. She gasps as I grab hold of her right arm, swinging her around to face me. Deep brown eyes search my face for recognition.
“Finally,” she breathes, right before I capture her pouty red lips, and the world around us ceases to exist.
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ReplyDeleteThe letter was folded neatly in my pocket. It had been two and a half years since I'd laid eyes on him. The war had taken him far, far away from me.
ReplyDeleteThe year was 1945. My life had changed so much in the time he'd been overseas, fighting for his country. But the war was over.
My husband was coming home.
I pinned my pillbox hat at a jaunty angle atop my curled, auburn tresses. He loved when I wore my hair down. I was wearing his favorite blue dress. He always said it looked beautiful against my creamy skin.
My heels clicked on the sidewalk as I pulled my coat around me to fend against the late autumn wind. The walk would only take fifteen minutes, and my heart beat erratically in anticipation.
Black plumes of smoke drifted aimlessly into the dreary sky as the train came to a halt at the platform. I could see the passengers begin to exit and I picked up my pace. Then, I saw him. My beloved husband was home.
His eyes scanned the throngs of people until they met mine. Sweet Jesus, I'd almost forgotten how green his eyes were. Time seemed to stand still for a moment until suddenly he was in front of me and I was wrapped in his warm embrace.
He ran his fingers gently across my face, and as his lips came closer to mine, he finally spoke.
"I love you. Baby. I'm finally home."
@lakermom37
250 words
Time stopped when his lips touched mine. It could have been our first kiss or our millionth. It was the kiss. The kiss that said, “You are mine, now and forever.” And I was. For that one moment, on the plaza stairs, I was his and he was mine.
ReplyDeleteI visit the plaza every year. I stand on the stairs and feel the ghosts of the past touch me. I close my eyes and I remember. I close my eyes and feel his lips on mine. Time stops. Once again, I am his. And he is mine. Now and Forever.
@darcysmom
100 words
The house seemed empty as I looked around. Everything was gone – the emptiness in a home that had once been so full of life. Thinking it best to do one last check, it wouldn’t do to leave anything behind. As I ascended the stairs, I felt a pull toward the attic. Something told me I needed to pull down the ladder and make one last trip down memory lane.
ReplyDeleteAn old trunk, made of leather was all that remained in the cavernous space. I carefully lifted the lid and the memories came swirling toward me.
I was just a little girl – no more than eight years old, when my father came home from the war. Mother and I couldn’t wait for him to step off the train. We’d bought a new camera so we could capture the occasion and have those few precious moments … forever.
Mother looked beautiful, even though her nervousness was shining through. We hurried down the sidewalk as we saw other servicemen walking away with their spouses. I looked up and I saw Father first, he was grinning and shouted her name. Mother looked up and ran up the steps, Father laughing as he caught her in his arms. The reunions around them a blur as they lost themselves in a kiss. I fumbled with the camera, taking several shots and hoping one would be worth framing.
Whoever said a picture is worth a thousand words … had no idea.
@Kare831