Summer of Destiny

Artist GA Bush; photo: pinterest.com

Artist GA Bush; photo: pinterest.com

Romantic Flash Fiction 15:

It was supposed to be just a weekend getaway, a hike through the mountains. The fresh air, the aroma of summer flowers in the gentle wind. But this was turning out to be far more. This was an excursion of destiny.

We had known each other since childhood, Marigold and I. Dreaming of escaping the same old acquaintances in a small western town was a waste of time, and there were those I tried to avoid in my twenties as I grew up and took a job as a banker, becoming more sophisticated, and in some ways, more foolish. But I never forgot Marigold – her deep green eyes that peered into my soul, and her dark, passionate red hair that set my heart aflame.

It was a sunny Saturday morning when I had been brushing down my Steeldust mare in the stable. She whinnied and lifted her neck as I brushed her, and I spoke softly to her like a friend. “Why the hell do I feel this way?” I asked her with a heavy sigh. “I have all the money I need, a set future, a ranch to hold down, and three horses to my name. But now… there’s just gotta be something … missing.”

It was at that moment that the barn door blasted open with a shove, a woman standing in the doorway. Her dress had been torn, her bare shoulder and cleavage exposed, and her hair was disheveled. As I turned to her, I noticed it was Marigold, and I rushed to help her. I held her arms and she steadied herself on me, but I gasped when I saw the bruises on her forearms. When I glanced up at her, I noticed one on her cheek. She was shaking with fear. “Marigold!” I cried. “What’s happened?”

“Shh,” she said, closing the barn door behind her and, taking my hand, running into the barn, pulling me down to a secluded bed of hay. “I don’t want them to know that I’ve come here.”

As she lay there next to me, I breathed in her perfume and turned to my side, my eyes taking her in – her lovely full lips, and the soft, supple curves of her breasts pushing against her dress. She was even more beautiful than I remembered her. “Who?” I asked. “Who did this to you?”

She turned to me with shame in her eyes. “Rainold,” she replied.

At the mention of his name, my blood began to boil. It had been rumored that she’d gotten involved with the notorious lawyer and bully of the weak, but now it was confirmed. Most folks in town knew enough about Rainold to keep their distance. He was smart, confident, and heartless with his words and actions.

Before I could say anything, she spoke again. “Please, Davey. If you have any compassion in your heart, help me.”

I squeezed her hands. “Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it,” I promised her with bold confidence, knowing full well that I could stand up to a man as strong, authoritative, and unbeatable as Rainold.

Her answer surprised me. “Take me away from here,” she breathed. “Just a weekend hike in the mountains. Until this blows over.”

“But Rainold,” I protested. “He has to be stopped.”

She slid her hand along my chest, her fingers tingling to the touch. “Please, Davey… I just want to get away.”

The next day as we made it to the summit of a nearby mountain peak, the warm summer breeze was ruffling dandelions and lilacs over magnificent rolling green fields that seemed to stretch to eternity. All along the isolated range, the songs of ptarmigans and mountain bluebirds floated in the wind from pine to spruce conifer. A woodpecker tapped at a nearby tree and far in the distance, a red-tailed hawk’s screech echoed off the peaks in magnified stereo.

We lay down on the green blades of grass that covered the field, and breathing in the fresh air, watched cottony clouds meander by against the backdrop of pure blue.

After a picnic lunch, we could no longer hold in the passion that so easily overtook us. Our lips met like flames and our tongues were the fire. We rolled on the grass with our arms around each other and continued kissing like desperate lovers until our hearts beat in sync to a drum that drove our inner desires. Finally, with our clothes only half removed, we made love in the field and the pleasure I gave to her returned to me a hundred fold. With sultry heat coursing between us and with every move of our bodies, every lash of our tongues, every plunge into a new level of delectation, we felt at one with nature all around us. When we climaxed, our cries echoed off canyon walls as we exploded with orgasmic bursts of delight. Finally, we lay panting in the field, caressed by the sun’s rays.

“I love you, Marigold,” I said, tenderly kissing her lips as she lightly held my cheek. “I always have.”

I realized that weekend that Marigold was the missing piece of my life. And however I had to deal with Rainold, I would. Whatever it took. One day soon, I vowed to help set this woman free.

Then it would be us. Then it would be love. Forever.

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12 thoughts on “Summer of Destiny

  1. Davey, 😀 (think I will be calling you Davey from now on, that’s if you are okay with it) I love this. I am loving this western flash fiction series you are starting on. I hope to read more of them, they have a different scenery that I as an aspiring traveller; I wish to witness and if I witness them in such romance, I swear I will feel like the luckiest woman on earth.

    And if there is a woman in your life Davey, she must feel blessed because trust me there are only a few men who can tell such romantic stories. Your writing is filled with so much passion and love. I love coming to your blog and literally losing my mind within your stories. and I can’t imagine how much love do you have with you because if you can share it with us, to me it means it’s huge and beautiful. I guess I am making sense, I babble a lot when I like something haha 😂

    Liked by 1 person

    • Samantha… you are just sweeter than candy. 🙂 Thank you so much for your inspiring comments. I’m so glad you like my Westerns, and yes, lol, you may call me Davey. You’d be the first, I think. Most people call me Dave, but I wanted a more “western” sounding name for this genre of romance flash fiction stories that I started, and I cast myself as the lead because I love to step into the main character’s role, especially in a sweet and somewhat steamy love story. 😉

      You know, Samantha, your words always give me such inspiration. To be honest, as far as writing passion and love, I draw from my own romantic experiences, in which I’ve experienced the highs and lows of love relationships – the delicious sensual highs, the beauty of everything romance, etc. but also the sorrow of being rejected by one whom I have loved but who is also painfully uncaring and refuses to love in return. This type of rejection is the hardest but has driven me to a deeper level of love than I ever thought possible. My dream is to convey that message of love through my stories so that in some way, my readers will experience that dream with me. I am truly happy to read your comments. They always make my day, as do you. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

      • I am glad to know you write from experience. That must tell what a loving person you are😊 as for the rejection, we learn ourselves through them sometimes and look how it’s driven you into a deeper level of love 😉 and I am glad I will be the first to call you Davey 😄

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Words are a invisible hand
    Filled with emotions that levetate
    The heart mind and soul
    To experience it’s depth
    Of feelings words are a creative
    Written expression of the invisible hand
    That is the heart, mind and soul.
    You are one incredible writer
    Each piece has it’s own beauty
    Only great writers can make their readers
    Live the moments written.
    You do just that
    I love the characters too
    So well done sweetie pie

    Liked by 1 person

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