Wild Horses

Artist Steve Hanks; photo: askart.com

Artist Steve Hanks; photo: askart.com


That morning, sunlight was a tender friend, touching her eyes with light kisses, like soft lips over closed eyelashes. One kiss to the right, another to the left. Before opening them, she inhaled long and slow, letting her breasts rise and fall like a calm ocean tide. Allowing time to have no mastery over her, she allowed her senses to take in the morning one slow breath at a time. The warmth of the room enveloped her like a blanket of love, while winter’s spite excoriated the window panes with a frost from outside that was denied passage. Smoke from the dying embers of the fireplace ascended the brick chimney in silent vigil, and chirps from morning songs in the forest outside calmed her soul.

As she thought of him and felt her heart lifting once again like the clouds over a brilliant sunrise, a smile graced her face. He was still in her thoughts, in her dreams that night, and in her heart that morning. The scent of him still lingered on the quilt that covered the couch where they had made love the night before.

Theirs was a wild romance from the start. He was the loner with the black cowboy hat pulled low over his brow, with his back turned to her, his jeans showing off assets she appreciated in a man. On their first meeting, he was gazing into a corral of horses, leaning over the wooden fence, his mind concentrated and centered. Later he taught her the difference between a canter and a gallop and the two of them rode trails through the snow, even on harsh January days.

But that was just the beginning. Before long, like wild horses, their attraction for each other could not be reined in, and a week of kissing and wanting led to an evening of wine and country dancing, capped off with lovemaking at her cabin in the woods. What followed was a passionate relationship of love and war, of tenderness and fighting, of loving affection and contentious arguments.

Then one hot date at her cabin. There was cuddling by the fire, drinking cabernet sauvignon, and tasting it on his lips. The heat that ensued between them was greater than the flames in the fireplace, and wrapped in a thick quilt, they found each other’s intoxication and stayed there until they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

The next morning she awoke to find him gone. Only a note was left on her kitchen table: “Be back soon for you. I promise.”

He had left her life without a trace, not telling anyone where he had gone, leaving her to believe that his note was a lie.

Months passed and he had still not come back. Spring flowers bloomed and wilted as summer yielded to autumn and a new year approached. Snow blanketed the ground again and she had all but given up hope for his return.

But one day, out of the blue, there was a knock on her door. That was last night.

She smiled and turned from the window, allured by the aroma of fresh coffee beans, finding him standing in the doorway to her kitchen. He was wearing a loose-fitting robe, sipping a cup.

His strong, affectionate voice let her know she had not made a mistake in waiting for this day. “Breakfast is ready, my love,” he simply said.


23 thoughts on “Wild Horses

    • Now that is a very good question, my friend who disappears and returns. 😉 I deliberately didn’t include that information to make the story more mysterious. Assuming that he told her where he’d been on the night he returned, and based on her happiness in the morning, I don’t think she held it against him. I do greatly admire her trust and forgiveness, which is what I also wanted to emphasize. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

      • But did he tell her the night he returned, or was she just willing to accept it BECAUSE he returned? Trust and forgiveness … definitely emphasized since those are two of the hardest parts of a relationship for me.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Another excellent question! 🙂 I’ll leave that open for interpretation, but the latter would definitely cause me to respect her even more for her trust of him. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

  1. Dave, how the hell do you come up with such beauty? Honestly, how? If anything I can make up is that you have a whole universe of romance and love with your imagination. And the most beautiful thing about it is the fact that you don’t restrict your imagination. You let us in and let us experience it and nonetheless feel the need to simply fall in love with it.

    Not only does your writing style inspires me, the way you construct and create such a beautiful picture in my mind makes me feel more than just inspired.

    Sorry to curse but I fucking loved this 😀

    Liked by 1 person

    • Lol, Samantha! I read your comment on the commuter train home today and laughed out loud in front of everyone around me. You have the most beautiful habit of making my day! You go ahead and curse all you like, especially about my work – I love it!! Yes, I try to draw my reader not just into a story, but into an experience. And to experience romance is a beautiful thing. I want my reader to feel all at once drawn into the scene, riveted to the story, and in love with the characters. Flash fiction is so wonderful because it allows us to push the envelope with our imagination without worrying about plot connections like in a novel or longer short story. This lets me take the reader into new scenes with every story and bathe in the warm waters of romantic love in ways that can’t be done in a novel. It thrills me to hear that you love it. Your words will no doubt continue to inspire me! Thank you a million times! Happy writing back to you. x

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Normally when I read flash fiction it never interested me because I felt like it was not complete but yours they just… Magical and you manage to put all of your intentions in them and I as your reader, I am always consumed into your work and inspired. And yes, no normal can be better than flash fiction especially the one you write.

    I am glad I made your day and that I made you laugh out loud 😄 and you are a million times welcome 😊

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Pingback: Dust in the machine – Rara Veritas

  4. Tranquility, like the serene
    essence of true beauty
    red velvet vines of wine
    filled with rose petals gentleness
    tainting the heart with it’s
    savor flame of romantic
    bliss, your words are a
    invisible touch that I can’t resist
    Amor sweetie pie

    Liked by 1 person

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