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Sempiternal Love

Discussion in 'Creative Archive' started by Cody, Jun 19, 2011.

  1. So uhm. I know I'm not here very often, but it's summer, so that's going to change. This is a short (like, 2 pages) story I wrote for English class this year. It is very cheesy, and there are probably a few silly typos. I hope it makes you cry, or at least makes you sad. That was the goal xD
    Any form of constructive criticism would be wonderful. Then again, showers of compliments always help the ego, too...Enjoy!

    Sempiternal Love

    I didn’t think she’d ever be my bride. Then again, after the Depression, I didn’t think I’d ever have much; well, I’ve never been happier to be wrong.
    I won’t lie to you, I’m not completely sure what all of us were doing there that night. It might have been a wedding, I don’t remember for sure – but I remember everything about Evelyn.
    Her eyes, a stunning blue, were perfectly brought out by the color of her evening gown; they were shining with life, and she had a smile that could melt the coldest of hearts.
    I asked her to dance.
    We were the last couple to leave the dance floor.
    Evelyn and I, we spent what felt like hours dancing – we were doing the Lindy-Hop, synchronized perfectly to the music; gently and smoothly connected to each other.

    Six months later, I took her out for a picnic. I remember it was May fourteenth. The sun had just begun its descent behind the hills in the West, which cast a beautiful yellow glow on everything its rays touched. There was a golden halo radiating off of Evelyn’s flawless skin, surrounding her in the light. I took her hand in mine, got down on one knee, and asked if she’d be my wife.

    I won’t ever forget the pause. There was the ripple of a breeze coming from behind her; it pushed a few lone strands of her beautiful, chestnut hair into her face, and it carried with it the scent of her perfume. It was the sweetest vanilla that I had ever smelled. And I still haven’t smelled any sweeter. In the short time between when I asked her and she answered, there was no sound but the carrying breeze and the pounding of my own heart. Her eyes, those gorgeous, crystalline pools of deep blue, never left min. Not for a moment did she glance at the ring.
    When she said yes, it was one of those perfect moments you always see in the pictures or read about in books but never believe could actually happen. “Yes,” she said; nothing more; nothing less. I had never seen her so happy, and even though she was starting to tear up, she had never seemed so beautiful before. I stood up and cupped her perfect face in my hands. I didn’t kiss her, she didn’t kiss me, no – we kissed each other. And for what could easily have been eternity, time came to a standstill. Time did not stop in fear of rejection or from anticipation. Time froze in a moment of pure bliss. “I love you.” We breathed, together as the sun set.

    We had a small church wedding. It was the two of us, the minister, and our families. Out was the simplest of ceremonies, but watching Evelyn walk down the aisle, I knew I was the luckiest man to ever be on God’s green earth. Here was the kindest, gentlest, most beautiful woman on the planet, and I got to spend the rest of my life with her.

    Anybody who saw us could have told you how helplessly in love we were. We always made sure there was time for us to sit down for breakfast before I left for work in the morning. On Sundays, we’d go into town for supper. During the winter, when the nights were long, dark, and cold, we’d sit together by the fireplace, wrapped in each other’s warmth.
    The picture is from about a year after I proposed. I took it the day we bought our new car. Evelyn and I, we were both children of the Depression, so having our very own home, well, that was one thing, but until the day we bought it, a car had seemed an unachievable dream. We were so thrilled with our new car that Evelyn just had to have a photo of herself climbing in to it.

    Unfortunately, our joy couldn’t last forever. The Japs bombed Pearl Harbor; I was off with the draft. The day before I left, we drove our car in to town and had lunch in the middle of all the busyness. Outside on the patio, where we ate, the sun was just a little too hot, the air just a little too dry, and the streets were just a little too busy as men moved up and down the sidewalks, making final preparations before their departures . But we didn’t notice the noise or the heat. To Evelyn and me, it might as well have been the very first night we met and did the Lindy-Hop. To me, there was no war ahead, no world outside her yellow sundress, incredible smile, and her eyes. They were not as vibrant as they had been in the past; poor Evelyn was scared for me. But that didn’t make them any less beautiful. When we drove home, we drove the long way.

    Evelyn asked our neighbors – the Greens, an older couple, but sweet as could be – to take a photograph of us. Mr. and Mrs. Green made their way across the lawn, and Evelyn and I sat on the porch step. Her head rested on me, cradled between my shoulder and head, and our hands were interlocked on our laps. The smell of her perfume, that sweet vanilla, filled my entire body. We laughed at something, some silly joke that one of us must have cracked, and the camera flashed without me noticing. We were happy.

    Before the sun had risen the next morning, I gently kissed Evelyn’s forehead and climbed out of bed. I dressed silently, and walked as quietly as possible to the front door. Right before heading out, I stuck the photo of her climbing into the car in to my pocket. Within two hours, I was on the train to the War.

    War was hell, no two ways about it. Most of my time was spent on a boat, sailing toward another God-forsaken island. My regiment once spent over a month on one island, one covered in mud and jungle, shooting off the Japanese that tried to banzai us. At night, half-buried by the brush, dirt, and mud and surrounded by the stench of death, I’d pull out the photo and remember the nights that we – Evelyn and I, that is – had shared, and dream of the day I’d come home and embrace her once more. More than once I fell asleep with the picture clutched to my chest.

    I took the train ride home after finishing my tour. It was cramped with men with hollow eyes, defeated by the harsh stings of the War. But I was different. I had my beautiful bride to go home to. When I first arrived at the train station, it was overwhelmingly crowded, and I did not see Evelyn, As the crowd began to fall apart and the noise faded away, Reverend Myer, the minister who had married my wife and me, came up and shook my hand. “Welcome home, son,” he said. I asked if he knew where Evelyn was. With the whistling of the departing trains and the rumbling of the arrivals filling the air, he explained everything to me.

    It was tuberculosis, he told me. Evelyn got a nasty bit was tuberculosis. She was strong fighter, he said, and every night, after she finished saying her prayers, she’d fall asleep longingly looking at the photo the Greens took of me and her on the porch. He told me that the last thing she saw on this earth was the image of us together, in love.

    It’s been over sixty years, and some memories of the War and my youth are starting to fade, but I still remember every moment I spent with her. I keep the old car in the garage, and I haven’t moved anything of hers. Her diary still sits on the bedside table, and her perfume bottles and makeup are still neatly arranged with her jewelry on the vanity. Sometimes I can still hear her soft, teasing laugh, and smell the gentle vanilla cloud of her perfume. I haven’t remarried; I wouldn’t dream of it. Evelyn is the only girl that I could ever Love.
    #1 Cody, Jun 19, 2011
    Last edited by a moderator: Sep 19, 2013
  2. Wow.

    That was really quite touching - I wouldn't go as far as saying it was sad, but it hit that spot, you know?

    I thought it was a really excellent piece, and I hope your writeryness will continue to be to this standard when you're back properly :)
  3. Psycho Monkey

    Psycho Monkey Member of the Literary Elite Four

    It kinda lessens the impact when you tell the reader upfront that the story is going to be sad and then have a couple in love because that usually means one of them is going to die. :p

    Besides that little tidbit, it was a very well written story Cody and I very much enjoyed reading it. And welcome back, even if it will only be for a little while.
  4. Beautiful piece of literature Cody ^^
    If it wasn't for me listening to Boxxy in the background, I would probably have become rather sad. Great use of language throughout :)

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