Waves Lapping At Bare Feet
Something I wrote a while ago... (umm... 7 months I think? Last year.)
felt like I should share it here.
Hate the ending, any suggestions?
(lol and this is the opening of my return to Livejournal, so I don't expect any comments... just felt like starting off well. ^^ )
The story is called "Waves Lapping at Bare Feet".
Yeah... I know that certain "thing" is obvious (you'll know what I mean when ya' read it) but oh well. I'm not rewriting that part.
Excerpt: (to lure you in here haha) Days blended seamlessly into nights like a painting of simultaneous dawn and dusk, until he felt as though he were fixated to the spot by tangible roots. Each night, when the sun bled scarlet into the sky, he remembered her.
Casper knelt down by her grave, a bouquet of flowers grasped tightly in his left hand. He slowly lowered them to the ground, as though it were a ritual of great importance, and proceeded to trace the words carved lightly into the cold granite. No tears dared grace his dry face; no expression of sorrow distorted his features. He merely remained there, one knee on the ground and the other bent as though he were courting death itself, emerald eyes glinting with unshed tears.
Buried beneath the sodden ground was his lover, his fiancé, the only woman he had ever felt any degree of affection towards.
He could almost recall her now; tanned skin, long waves of black hair, blue eyes so dark he claimed he could see the ocean through them. But her smile evaded his mind, and it was that he longed for most. She had died in a tragic boating accident six months before, and he had been told that he was lucky her body had been recovered. Lucky. He scoffed. Casper hadn’t set a foot in the ocean since.
Days blended seamlessly into nights like a painting of simultaneous dawn and dusk, until he felt as though he were fixated to the spot by tangible roots. Each night, when the sun bled scarlet into the sky, he remembered her.
Cassie knelt down beside him, tucking her light skirt beneath her legs as she squatted on the wet grass. “Ready to go?” She asked gently, reaching a fragile hand out towards him. He ignored her outstretched palm and raised himself off the ground, brushed particles of dirt off the seat of his pants.
“No,” he replied, his back towards her. His lithe figure cast a shadow across the grassy terrain. And then, abruptly, he grasped her hand with a firm grip. “Let’s go.”
Casper walked alongside Cassie by the edge of the beach, waves lapping at his bare feet. They continued like this wordlessly, neither making the slightest move to begin speaking to the other, each painfully aware of the delicate silence threaded between them. The man abruptly stopped, directing his gaze towards a sailing ship. “Some people have all the luck. Leaving this place.”
Cassie rested a pale hand on his shoulder and laid her head there. “Why would you want to leave this island?” she asked, her soft voice carrying hints of confusion.
He sighed, still staring stormily out at sea. His chestnut hair waved around his face, tugged in all directions by the fierce wind. “It’s so dull, and it’s where…” Casper wrenched his gaze away from the alluring ocean.
She lowered her voice. “I lived here my whole life,” she stated with certainty, and removed her hand from his shoulder and grasped his arm tightly, as though he would disappear into nothing if she let go.
His face twisted in misery as he pulled away from her, as though her vice-like grip on his shoulder was insubstantial. “No. I couldn’t if I tried.” He hurried his pace, forcing her to run to catch up to him. Her feet barely seemed to touch the ground as she quickened her pace in order to reach him.
“I think I’m driving you crazy,” Cassie told him apologetically, lancing her fingers through his so that they were forced to walk hand in hand. Her white dress flew around her in the breeze, riding up on her pale legs. They were so fragile that the sun seemed almost to shine through them, exposing precious veins lanced underneath a thin layer of skin.
“No.” His voice was coarse, rough. “I’m already stark raving mad.”
There was a lengthy lapse in conversation as the two trotted off the beach and onto the pavement near Casper’s apartment. The woman studied his face, observing the myriad of fresh wrinkles marring his features and the large bags beneath his haunted eyes, all of which had developed over the past few months.
Casper tugged his hand away from hers and inserted his card key in the slot by the front door.
“Mina loves you,” Cassie interjected suddenly. “She really does.”
Casper opened the door angrily, veins standing out on his neck. “I have you already.” His tone was hard, with a note of finality she dared not question.
He trudged up the metal staircase that wound around the apartment’s interior, his bare feet making harsh, metallic sounds that echoed around the landings. Cassie’s graceful footsteps were completely silent.
“She can offer you something real, though.” She replied belatedly as Casper once more inserted his key within a slot, jerked the door to his personal set of rooms open.
“You think I care about that crap?” He snarled.
“You should,” she answered quietly, following him inside without another word, so silent, so frail that she appeared akin to a voiceless apparition, the eerie shadows his ripped curtains cast upon her only adding to the image.
After he slammed the door shut, whatever anger seemed to have possessed Casper abruptly deflated as he sunk into a kitchen chair, burying his face in his hands. His tousled brown hair, long from neglect, swung over his face. “I really am crazy,” he cried, his voice muffled.
She placed a faint kiss atop his head, something so insubstantial that it seemed as though only the breeze had ruffled his hair, a stray gust of wind from the slightly open windows. “It’s my fault,” she told him, matter of fact. “We really should end this.”
Within moments the two were embracing passionately in the hallways, arms slung around one another as their lips met in frantic kisses. Casper raised a hand to smooth her dark hair from her face, but it slipped like water through his hands. They heard loud knocks upon his door, but chose to ignore them, merely retreating, locked in embrace, further down the hallway. Casper found himself against the cream-colored wall, her legs twined around his body.
The door opened with an audible click.
Mina and Charles ventured down the hallway to find Casper’s lips meeting with thin air, his arm crooked as though he held it around something, his cheeks flushed with delight.
“My god,” Mina gasped. Her brown eyes dilated in shock, her surprise clearly visible even as her hair swung in front of her face, completely obscuring her expression.
Casper seemed to grow aware of their presence and slowly assumed a more or less normal stance, his arm still held out awkwardly. “For what reason are you interrupting us, Mina, Charles?”
Charles gathered the courage to speak first, sweat gleaming on his dark forehead. “We, err, would like to know what, err, who, you have there. Sir.” He added belatedly.
Casper’s green eyes narrowed. “My fiancé, of course. Who else? Cassie, please greet our guests.”
Cassie shot him a pleading look. “Don’t play the fool, Casper. You know very well they can’t see me.”
Mina’s voice cracked. “Cassie’s been dead six months now.”
He shook his head, waggling a finger at her. “Actually, you’re wrong. She’s right here.” Mina’s hands flew to her mouth as tears threatened to spill onto her face. She knew now, for a fact, that Casper had lost his mind, gone tragically mad after the death of his young bride. It broke her heart; she truly loved him, but with his mind in such a state, Mina knew that he would, at best, never acknowledge that love. At worst he would forcefully reject it.
Christopher managed to reply first. “I think we’ll come back later,” he said quickly, ushering his startled companion from the room.
Casper watched them go, then turned to his lover pleasantly. “Now, where were we?”
“You’re crazy, love.” She replied passively, accepting his adoring kisses.
“I know.” He smoothed back her bangs with his free hand.
“Doesn’t it worry you?” Her tone was slightly patronizing, as though she already knew the answer.
“Hmm? Why would it?” he placed a kiss upon her cheek.
“I mean that you’re the one with the ghost’s name, and I’m the ghost. Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”
“Life’s not like the movies, love.” He grinned at that weak pun, the first real smile he had displayed since Cassie was alive. She traced a finger against the prominent line of his cheekbone, solemnly studying his fine features.
“Neither is death.”
felt like I should share it here.
Hate the ending, any suggestions?
(lol and this is the opening of my return to Livejournal, so I don't expect any comments... just felt like starting off well. ^^ )
The story is called "Waves Lapping at Bare Feet".
Yeah... I know that certain "thing" is obvious (you'll know what I mean when ya' read it) but oh well. I'm not rewriting that part.
Excerpt: (to lure you in here haha) Days blended seamlessly into nights like a painting of simultaneous dawn and dusk, until he felt as though he were fixated to the spot by tangible roots. Each night, when the sun bled scarlet into the sky, he remembered her.
Casper knelt down by her grave, a bouquet of flowers grasped tightly in his left hand. He slowly lowered them to the ground, as though it were a ritual of great importance, and proceeded to trace the words carved lightly into the cold granite. No tears dared grace his dry face; no expression of sorrow distorted his features. He merely remained there, one knee on the ground and the other bent as though he were courting death itself, emerald eyes glinting with unshed tears.
Buried beneath the sodden ground was his lover, his fiancé, the only woman he had ever felt any degree of affection towards.
He could almost recall her now; tanned skin, long waves of black hair, blue eyes so dark he claimed he could see the ocean through them. But her smile evaded his mind, and it was that he longed for most. She had died in a tragic boating accident six months before, and he had been told that he was lucky her body had been recovered. Lucky. He scoffed. Casper hadn’t set a foot in the ocean since.
Days blended seamlessly into nights like a painting of simultaneous dawn and dusk, until he felt as though he were fixated to the spot by tangible roots. Each night, when the sun bled scarlet into the sky, he remembered her.
Cassie knelt down beside him, tucking her light skirt beneath her legs as she squatted on the wet grass. “Ready to go?” She asked gently, reaching a fragile hand out towards him. He ignored her outstretched palm and raised himself off the ground, brushed particles of dirt off the seat of his pants.
“No,” he replied, his back towards her. His lithe figure cast a shadow across the grassy terrain. And then, abruptly, he grasped her hand with a firm grip. “Let’s go.”
Casper walked alongside Cassie by the edge of the beach, waves lapping at his bare feet. They continued like this wordlessly, neither making the slightest move to begin speaking to the other, each painfully aware of the delicate silence threaded between them. The man abruptly stopped, directing his gaze towards a sailing ship. “Some people have all the luck. Leaving this place.”
Cassie rested a pale hand on his shoulder and laid her head there. “Why would you want to leave this island?” she asked, her soft voice carrying hints of confusion.
He sighed, still staring stormily out at sea. His chestnut hair waved around his face, tugged in all directions by the fierce wind. “It’s so dull, and it’s where…” Casper wrenched his gaze away from the alluring ocean.
She lowered her voice. “I lived here my whole life,” she stated with certainty, and removed her hand from his shoulder and grasped his arm tightly, as though he would disappear into nothing if she let go.
His face twisted in misery as he pulled away from her, as though her vice-like grip on his shoulder was insubstantial. “No. I couldn’t if I tried.” He hurried his pace, forcing her to run to catch up to him. Her feet barely seemed to touch the ground as she quickened her pace in order to reach him.
“I think I’m driving you crazy,” Cassie told him apologetically, lancing her fingers through his so that they were forced to walk hand in hand. Her white dress flew around her in the breeze, riding up on her pale legs. They were so fragile that the sun seemed almost to shine through them, exposing precious veins lanced underneath a thin layer of skin.
“No.” His voice was coarse, rough. “I’m already stark raving mad.”
There was a lengthy lapse in conversation as the two trotted off the beach and onto the pavement near Casper’s apartment. The woman studied his face, observing the myriad of fresh wrinkles marring his features and the large bags beneath his haunted eyes, all of which had developed over the past few months.
Casper tugged his hand away from hers and inserted his card key in the slot by the front door.
“Mina loves you,” Cassie interjected suddenly. “She really does.”
Casper opened the door angrily, veins standing out on his neck. “I have you already.” His tone was hard, with a note of finality she dared not question.
He trudged up the metal staircase that wound around the apartment’s interior, his bare feet making harsh, metallic sounds that echoed around the landings. Cassie’s graceful footsteps were completely silent.
“She can offer you something real, though.” She replied belatedly as Casper once more inserted his key within a slot, jerked the door to his personal set of rooms open.
“You think I care about that crap?” He snarled.
“You should,” she answered quietly, following him inside without another word, so silent, so frail that she appeared akin to a voiceless apparition, the eerie shadows his ripped curtains cast upon her only adding to the image.
After he slammed the door shut, whatever anger seemed to have possessed Casper abruptly deflated as he sunk into a kitchen chair, burying his face in his hands. His tousled brown hair, long from neglect, swung over his face. “I really am crazy,” he cried, his voice muffled.
She placed a faint kiss atop his head, something so insubstantial that it seemed as though only the breeze had ruffled his hair, a stray gust of wind from the slightly open windows. “It’s my fault,” she told him, matter of fact. “We really should end this.”
Within moments the two were embracing passionately in the hallways, arms slung around one another as their lips met in frantic kisses. Casper raised a hand to smooth her dark hair from her face, but it slipped like water through his hands. They heard loud knocks upon his door, but chose to ignore them, merely retreating, locked in embrace, further down the hallway. Casper found himself against the cream-colored wall, her legs twined around his body.
The door opened with an audible click.
Mina and Charles ventured down the hallway to find Casper’s lips meeting with thin air, his arm crooked as though he held it around something, his cheeks flushed with delight.
“My god,” Mina gasped. Her brown eyes dilated in shock, her surprise clearly visible even as her hair swung in front of her face, completely obscuring her expression.
Casper seemed to grow aware of their presence and slowly assumed a more or less normal stance, his arm still held out awkwardly. “For what reason are you interrupting us, Mina, Charles?”
Charles gathered the courage to speak first, sweat gleaming on his dark forehead. “We, err, would like to know what, err, who, you have there. Sir.” He added belatedly.
Casper’s green eyes narrowed. “My fiancé, of course. Who else? Cassie, please greet our guests.”
Cassie shot him a pleading look. “Don’t play the fool, Casper. You know very well they can’t see me.”
Mina’s voice cracked. “Cassie’s been dead six months now.”
He shook his head, waggling a finger at her. “Actually, you’re wrong. She’s right here.” Mina’s hands flew to her mouth as tears threatened to spill onto her face. She knew now, for a fact, that Casper had lost his mind, gone tragically mad after the death of his young bride. It broke her heart; she truly loved him, but with his mind in such a state, Mina knew that he would, at best, never acknowledge that love. At worst he would forcefully reject it.
Christopher managed to reply first. “I think we’ll come back later,” he said quickly, ushering his startled companion from the room.
Casper watched them go, then turned to his lover pleasantly. “Now, where were we?”
“You’re crazy, love.” She replied passively, accepting his adoring kisses.
“I know.” He smoothed back her bangs with his free hand.
“Doesn’t it worry you?” Her tone was slightly patronizing, as though she already knew the answer.
“Hmm? Why would it?” he placed a kiss upon her cheek.
“I mean that you’re the one with the ghost’s name, and I’m the ghost. Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”
“Life’s not like the movies, love.” He grinned at that weak pun, the first real smile he had displayed since Cassie was alive. She traced a finger against the prominent line of his cheekbone, solemnly studying his fine features.
“Neither is death.”