>Weathered: Dream

>Weathered: Dream
May 12, 2011 1 Comment Writing Stephanie Ayers

>This picks up where this piece left off…If you are joining for the first time, Blair has discovered her 20 yr old wedding dress in the closet of her childhood home where she is tending to her ailing father….

With mist shrouded eyes, she returned the dress to the closet. A little more rummaging produced a dust covered shoebox. The tears no longer willing to be contained, they spilled over, cleaning the lid with large plops. Her legs trembled and collapsed beneath her. She opened the box, knowing that she would find all the love letters Louis had ever written contained within. She picked them up carefully, noticing some of them had begun to yellow with age. She pulled the top one from the pile, the musky scent of his aftershave greeted her nostrils as she removed the letter from its tomb. It was the last letter she had received from him, two days before he left. Her heart became as rocks falling down the mountain as she read:

My Dearest Love,

     It has only been an hour since we last saw each other, but I can’t get you out of my mind. You were so very lovely tonight, as you always are. I wait impatiently for the day when you become my wife, mine for all eternity. Your beautiful face, your breath, the way you taste, all tease me, as I long to spend the rest of my life waking up beside you. To be able to feel your arms wrapped around me, to wrap mine around you, in a tight embrace, that is what I crave. These moments with you now are but a tease to my tortured soul. My skin aches to feel yours again intimately, your tongue leaving goose bumps in its wake, the gentle touches that never fail to arouse. My brahma hungers to be reunited with your shiva, to feel its intense embrace, its warmth, its requited passion. My ears burn to hear my name shouted from between your sweet sultry lips, whiskey dripping from your throat as you climax in cadence with mine.

    Oh, my love. It is tortuous punishment that I must leave your side no matter how briefly. Trust that my passion will ignite for no other. Believe the dungeon imprisoning my heart is yours alone. Pray that the days pass swiftly so that we may be united once more. Most of all, dream. Dream of our future to come, the babies we will share, and the laughter that will fill our lives. Dream, my sweet Blair. Dream of me.

 Forever love,
Your Louis

She could bear it no further. She returned the letter to its envelope and closed the box. Her fingers stretched, climbed the wall as her legs regained their strength. Her nose declared war against her face. Her eyes drenched her shirt, her knees, the carpet. She breathed deeply, inhaling the musty odor of the uncared for closet, choking on dust in the process. Her heart drummed loudly, threatening to explode from her chest, while her stomach tried to evict the dinner she had skipped. She exited the closet, and her room was a prison cell she desperately needed to escape.
Hanna’s chin dragged the floor in shock as Blair rushed past her and fled out the door.

Mama’s Losin’ It

Come back tomorrow to see how Blair deals with her emotions.Concrit is always welcome.
Stephanie Ayers A published author with a knack for twisted tales, Stephanie Ayers is the Executive Creative Director of OWS Ink, LLC, a community for writers and readers alike. She loves a good thriller, fairies, things that go bump in the night, and sappy stories. When she is not writing, she can be found in Creative Cloud designing book covers and promotional graphics for authors.
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  1. one Comment


    >the musky scentI have always liked the way that sounds, not sure why but it just resonates with me.


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