pistachio, butter pecan and flavour of the day with butterscotch
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: When It Was Summer
Rating: G
Challenge: Pistachio #21: a picnic, Butter Pecan #10: spicy, FOTD: verdant
Toppings/Extras: butterscotch
Wordcount: 308
Summary: Reflections on a summer long since gone by.
Notes: These two… are one of the main reasons I changed the ending. I regret nothing! Verdant: Green with vegetation; covered with green growth. Lacking in experience or sophistication; naïve.
He put flowers in her hair and rubbed his cheek against the satiny, wine-coloured fabric of her skirts. He ran; jumped; cavorted; rolled. A fine streak of a man, or perhaps no more than a sprig of a boy at that point in his life, vitality bursting from the seams in his grimy, sun-toughened skin. He loved the food she brought, even though she made it herself and she wasn’t much of a cook, even though he hadn’t had Cuban peppers before and it was probably a little strong for his tastes.
It was still on his tongue when he kissed her with the sun blazing down on them both, spread on the scrubby yellow-green grass, a grassquit bird taking to the air nearby with the softest whiffle from its wings. Her heart roared up into her ears, burst hot bubbles against her chest as every touch.
There were so many stories, though she wasn’t sure how many were true; the Irish gypsy carnival he had been born and raised in, his time on the sea, adventures and misadventures alike told with such avid enthusiasm that her eyes rounded in wonder despite her doubts. He did silly impressions of the brown pelicans bobbing in the coastal waters and occasionally switched to Spanish to please her.
She was always better at English than he was at Spanish, but she appreciated the gesture.
He brought the rum; she brought the food. He’d water it down for her and let her take small, burning sips which made her choke and laugh. Her head felt snug in the scoop of his neck as it had never done anywhere else-she could remember so well her forehead against the underside of his chin, one of his hands rubbing slowly up and down her arm, the world bright and blitzing and shimmering before them.
Title: When It Was Summer
Rating: G
Challenge: Pistachio #21: a picnic, Butter Pecan #10: spicy, FOTD: verdant
Toppings/Extras: butterscotch
Wordcount: 308
Summary: Reflections on a summer long since gone by.
Notes: These two… are one of the main reasons I changed the ending. I regret nothing! Verdant: Green with vegetation; covered with green growth. Lacking in experience or sophistication; naïve.
He put flowers in her hair and rubbed his cheek against the satiny, wine-coloured fabric of her skirts. He ran; jumped; cavorted; rolled. A fine streak of a man, or perhaps no more than a sprig of a boy at that point in his life, vitality bursting from the seams in his grimy, sun-toughened skin. He loved the food she brought, even though she made it herself and she wasn’t much of a cook, even though he hadn’t had Cuban peppers before and it was probably a little strong for his tastes.
It was still on his tongue when he kissed her with the sun blazing down on them both, spread on the scrubby yellow-green grass, a grassquit bird taking to the air nearby with the softest whiffle from its wings. Her heart roared up into her ears, burst hot bubbles against her chest as every touch.
There were so many stories, though she wasn’t sure how many were true; the Irish gypsy carnival he had been born and raised in, his time on the sea, adventures and misadventures alike told with such avid enthusiasm that her eyes rounded in wonder despite her doubts. He did silly impressions of the brown pelicans bobbing in the coastal waters and occasionally switched to Spanish to please her.
She was always better at English than he was at Spanish, but she appreciated the gesture.
He brought the rum; she brought the food. He’d water it down for her and let her take small, burning sips which made her choke and laugh. Her head felt snug in the scoop of his neck as it had never done anywhere else-she could remember so well her forehead against the underside of his chin, one of his hands rubbing slowly up and down her arm, the world bright and blitzing and shimmering before them.