Tag Archive | Spring

Didn’t You Hear the Sound of Love?

Artist Pruett Carter; picssr.com

Romantic Flash Fiction:

Senna closed her eyes and grinned, playing along.

“Listen,” Dalton said. “Now don’t peak. Just… listen. What do you hear?”

As her bare feet rested gently in the cool water that flowed over her ankles, Senna listened intently to the babbling brook. The water dribbled over rocks and tumbled down tiny falls as the current moved with soft intensity and gentle impulsiveness. High in the trees of the forest around them, birds sang their sweet melodies that Senna probably wouldn’t have heard over the rushing water of the brook if she hadn’t closed her eyes. She felt the cool breeze dance through the forest and brush against her cheeks as she breathed in the fresh air.

“I’m listening,” Senna said, opening her eyes after several minutes of quiet meditation over her surroundings. “The forest is truly alive, isn’t it?”

Dalton reached out to hold her hand and scooted along the rocks to sit next to her. Senna could feel his warmth nestle up against her, and her heart swirled with delight.

“Long winters fray, etching away,” he whispered close to her ear. “The forest dreams, its sound a charm that rings through every stream.”

“Mm,” Senna moaned, her cheek resting on his. “Your words touch me like nothing else can. Or was that a quote?”

“I just made that up. For you.” His lips kissed her gently on the closest cheek, making her whole body tingle.

Senna giggled, leaning into it, not wanting it to stop. Ever.

“Didn’t you hear it, Senna?” he asked her. “When you closed your eyes.”

“I heard a forest that inhales and exhales through a babbling brook and a soft breeze,” she replied, matching his mood for poetic diction.

“That,” he explained, “is the sound of love. Every time the water rolls over rocks, the brook continues on, the bird chirps its song, you hear three words from the bottom of my heart – I love you. And I do, you know.”

She turned to face him, her smile glowing in the sunlight that broke through the trees from high above. “Do you really?” she teased with a lift of her eyebrow, snuggling closer, her lips inching towards his.

“That’s why I brought you here today,” he said. “To let you hear it for yourself, not only from me, but from the thousand witnesses of nature all around us. To give you this gift.”

Their lips brushed lightly before Senna melted into his kiss as he cupped her hands in his. It was a kiss that for just a brief moment pillaged all the vitality out of the forest, and if it could be harnessed, it would black out a city and light up her whole world in that one touch of his lips.

When their mouths separated, he grinned at her with sparkling green eyes. “Now open your hand,” he said with a mischievous, mysterious grin.

She felt nothing there, and she almost thought he was joking. Until she opened her hand. When she did, she caught her breath. She looked back at him in disbelief. He was still grinning as if he had planned it all along.

Senna suddenly closed her hand, clutching it so tightly that she imagined that if she didn’t, it might disappear as magically as it had appeared. She felt the diamond against the palm of her hand and shut her eyes tightly, now unable to control the tears that trickled down her cheeks.

“The other message of the brook,” he said. “Marry him, Senna, it said.” Choking up with emotion himself, he fought to get the words out. “Marry me, Senna.”

When she opened her eyes, they were glassy pools gazing into the eyes of the man who would father her children and give hope to her life in old age.

But then, just for a second, doubt suddenly crept in like a poisonous asp on the slippery rock. “But what about…?” she heard herself saying.

He shook his head. “I don’t care about that. I’ve never cared about that. I only care about you.”

She sniffled, fighting back her emotions. “I love you,” she said, mouthing the words, no sound coming out, but nearby a babbling brook echoing her heart.

The Things Time Can’t Touch

Artist Daniel Gerhartz: pinterest.com

Romantic Flash Fiction:

Morning sunlight streamed into the courtyard as the swallows who made a home here chirped their contented salute to the day. Nightingales were the loudest, their songs echoing like a symphony off the stucco walls of the elaborate Spanish home. A cool breeze tickled the air and the roses that grew in the courtyard gardens flourished in the spring dew. White columns lined the south porch near a stone staircase that led to the interior of the mansion.

You were leaning against one of the columns when I first saw you, where my breath was stolen from me for a moment, lost in the realization that I had been in the presence of heavenly beauty. I smiled at how the sunlight made your blonde hair glow like a golden tiara and how its delicate rays settled over your slim, creamy shoulders and melted into the artistry of your radiance. You were holding a rose, leaning against the column, your eyes melancholy, and my heart went out to you. Someone must have hurt you, and in that moment I wanted to slide into you and hold you and be the shoulder you could cry on.

Your eyes were distant, and at first, you didn’t even see me there watching you. You were twiddling with the golden pendant on your necklace, rubbing it languidly in your fingers, and I wondered if he gave that to you, and what special significance it held in your life. I wanted to know this and so much more about you. I wanted to step into your life like bathing in warm natural springs and making myself the heat that enveloped your skin, your heart, your tender soul. I wondered if you would even let me. I wondered why you were holding the rose, and if love was on your mind like it was on mine. Would you let me in if I revealed to you the light of my love, the sound of the birds singing in my heart?

Your eyes glanced up as if on cue to my thoughts that clung to your heart and refused to let go. You gasped and lowered your hand that held the rose.

“Who are you?” you asked.

“Coriander,” I said your name, coming closer. I sensed your discomfort but wanted to set your heart at ease. “We’ve met before. Years ago. Outside a quiet pub in the center of town, we shared a glass of wine and a kiss that I’ll remember to the day I die.”

Your eyes suddenly filled with recognition and your chest lifted as you lightly gasped. “Is it you? All those years ago. We were young, lonely travelers crossing paths in our journey to nowhere.”

“To somewhere,” I grinned, my heart filled with joy that you remembered.

“Barely old enough to drink.”

“But old enough to love,” I said, sliding into your personal space. You didn’t move, your face glowing in the sunlight.

“Yes,” you whispered, your eyes sparkling.

I took the rose from your hand and brought it to my nose, inhaling its sweet fragrance, closing my eyes and wondering if I was dreaming or really awake. I handed the rose back to you.

“What are you doing here?” you asked breathlessly.

“To find that woman I fell in love with back then,” I replied.

Your eyes returned to the melancholy woman I saw when I had first come in. “Time changes things,” you said.

“There are some things time can’t touch,” I responded, my fingers lightly brushing loose strands of hair away from your face. “Come out with me tonight. Let me show you.”

Spring is Among Us

Artist Bruce Emmett; pinterest.com

Romantic 4-Line Flash Fiction:

As a month of showers brought forth glistening pansies and tulips, so their love, which had found its way through a season of heartache, finally blossomed with every flower in the field that stretched for miles.

Spring was here and had made its home among them.

With the sun enfolding her with warmth, Laleh reclined in his embrace, his breath lightly fanning her wanting lips.

“This is the season, Laleh,” he whispered close, “when all things change, when despair succumbs to our destiny, and when our love forges a new path to the promise of a brighter day.”

Waiting For His Return

Artist Julian Paul; pinterest.com

Romantic Flash Fiction:

Morning brought with it a chilly, restless spring breeze that swelled over the lifeless stalks of left-over winter. And with the wind, a vibrant spirit of love ruffled in – subtle, whimsical, yet altogether alluring in beauty – lifting the tall blades of grass to attention, leaving the dandelions to shudder with fear that something entrancing and mysterious was afoot. Meanwhile, nature danced to the chorus of the farm at sunrise, birds in violent chirping, cowbells jangling in the stables, a sheep or two bleating on the grassy hills over the horizon, and a rooster to wake the world.

Azalea breathed in the fresh air with a strong inhale as she stepped out the front door of the house, letting the screen door bang shut behind her. With a smile firmly in place, she traipsed down the wooden steps of the deck onto the lawn that led out to the stables. He was coming soon! It had been too long.

Every day he had been away, she had counted the days, the hours, the minutes – if she’d been able to keep up with thinking about him every minute of every day. But oh, how she had tried! Afternoons on horseback, evenings by the fire, nights lying in bed, mornings also … lying in bed – in every place, she had thought of him. His strong callous hands, imagining them comforting her. His laughter, imagining it infiltrating and enveloping her with its warmth. His brawny hard-working arms, imagining them around her.

And now, finally he was here!

Charging into the stable, she kicked off her shoes and hopped onto the hay, waiting to surprise him. Pulling down her blouse around her shoulders revealed more skin and she wanted desperately to attract his attention on the day he returned. Finally she heard his footsteps in the stable. Then she saw him. He stopped, utterly stunned at the sight of her. His wide grin and sparkling eyes behind the muscular exterior set her off.

“Hey stranger,” she called to her boyfriend. “Miss me?”