Fiction Friday: Winter’s Gift: She Rewarded His Anticipation

Joe walked up behind her, bending down fluently to pick up yet another feather that had fallen from her wings. It was like finding a penny on the street as a boy. His left hand was filling up rapidly. He noticed how pristine the feathers were and how hard it was to know where they came from as he took in the beauty of her back.

He let out a sigh of relief, yet he couldn’t make eye contact. Slowly the air left his lungs. There was a time when he could slow his own heart rate down, her standing so close to him right now didn’t allow for him to accomplish it.

One of her finest qualities was her ability to be seemingly perfect and pure, yet she was here with him. She had agreed to meet him.

nunhead cemetary

McCollin’s cemetery was a lonely place, he couldn’t remember the last time anyone needed to drive this far down the quiet road. In spite of that, this place was still his to care for daily. Tending to the souls who found rest here, his only job.

It was his assumption that getting her here would be the hard part. Angels didn’t take meetings with regular guys who had dirt under their nails. Men who could use a shave. Or so he’d thought. She was beautiful, rightly perfect and by far the best listener he’d found out here.

“Will you walk towards that tree with me?”  he asked noticing a feather float side to side all the way down to his boot. Swiftly he was down and back up without notice. Was it normal for her to lose those soft whispers? Did she know he’d kept them all?

“Yes, you know I will.” she admitted almost soundlessly.

Shocked, still he recovered with little effort, did she know she had all the control? He wanted to show her the place he’d found today, he stuffed her feathers inside his coat pocket. He made a wish for them be there later when he was alone. His proof that she existed.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Joe admitted refusing to walk behind her. He found comfort walking just ahead of her scanning the area for anything that could harm her.

“I’ve always come to you. Have I never?” She replied as she pushed back.

It was a sight to see her walk across the grounds, she proceeded slowly. Seconds had past, yet they were already looking at the perfect tree in front of them. It startled Joe at how quickly they walked together. The pine tree had been covered by this morning’s snow. In spite of the snow, he was sure she’d still understand what drew him to this place.

“What do you think?” Joe asked after choosing to glance just over the top of her head, purposely avoiding her eyes. He just allowed his left hand to lay silently in his jacket pocket, surrounding itself with pieces of her. “Do you think we could use this one?” he whispered quietly towards her, waiting to hear if the tree provided the same feelings in her, as it had for him.

Can’t This Book Take a Hint?

I’m not gonna lie, it’ll be a stretch to say I’m super pumped about writing today.

Let me clarify one thing first. I feel a strong need to write. I want to write about the two books I’ve read in the last four days and how they’ve made me feel after finishing each of their final pages. This is, without a doubt, the topic I’d love to discuss, but I can’t.

My mind won’t let me, it keeps taking me back to the one slow moving book I cannot seem to finish, but I feel devotion towards obligated to.

The Paris Wife by Paula McLain left me wanting to dive into Ernest Hemingway’s life, but I can’t make myself post about it right now.

Then I read the Other Boleyn Girl by Philippa Gregory, it left me sick to my stomach for Tudor England, yet it motivates me to read another Gregory novel soon. How come I can’t find it within myself to talk about a book I finished last night and woke up thinking about today?

I’ll tell you why, because I have a third book which holds my attention and not in a good way.

some old books i found in the guest room. =] Continue reading