she paced outside

She paced outside, the cold rubbing up against her shoulders and her bare legs. Inside she was hot, turmoil raging from within. It was in the middle of the winter, yet she was outside in shorts, barefoot, feeling the melting snow in between her toes. They were red and numb, she had been outside for awhile. It was dark, the clouds covering much of the night sky, hiding the moon’s glow from her sight.

She continued to walk back and forth, wrapping her arms around her shoulders, shivering. She could hear his voice inside her mind, yelling at her, accusing her. Small, salty tears streamed down her face. She wasn’t aware of what she had done to make him so upset. Her feet slid on the sidewalk, causing her to cry out. She hit the wet concrete, her palms skidding on the rough surface, scraping her skin raw. She sat on the sidewalk, hurt, humiliated.

She crossed her legs under herself like a child, folding her arms across her chest, and released a deep, heavy sigh. She could feel the cold seep up through her shorts, her legs covered with goose bumps, turning redder by the moment. She didn’t want to move, wanted to stay there, turn into a statue, let the world pass her by.

A sound startled her out of her temper, turning her head to the side. She glowered in the direction of the house, seeing him stride over to her, shuffling his feet sheepishly, hands in his pockets. She breathed out steam, a dragon raging within. She stayed seated, every part of her body ice, except her face, her heart.

She listened as his soft footsteps approached, crushing the snow beneath the soles of his shoes. She closed her eyes, hot tears raining down her cheeks, evaporating as the winter’s winds blew their torture. Nature growled at him, the trees bending forebodingly towards his figure, howling from coyotes echoing off the hills, the snow melting faster than the weather might normally allow.

Her eyes glowed as anger emanated from them, beams of light meant to shine directly in his face. He held his head down, extending a hand towards her shoulder. She turned back around, facing away from him, too upset to acknowledge his presence. But she couldn’t ignore him, as much as she wanted to, even if he was standing there. She stood, not taking his hand. She caught a glimpse at his face, a small smile peeking out from the corner of his mouth. He laughs?

A fist flew at his chest, a half hearted attempt at declaring her state of war. He let it hit him, made no attempt to withdraw, or even stop her, though his smile was gone. She hit him again, and then a third time, the strength disappearing from her hands, her arms, her body. The cold was taking over her. He finally grasped her wrist, holding it close to his own body, pulling her in like a rope.

He put a hand, warm from keeping it inside a pocket, on her cheek, her tears smearing against it. He bent to kiss her, but she moved her mouth away from his, denying him the sweet sensation of her lips on his. She pushed away from him, annoyed at the lapse in judgment, for allowing him to hold her when she was still so rattled. But he held on, not letting her disappear in the darkness again. She started to bang into him again, with her open palms, slapping his arms, knowing he could barely feel it through his thick coat. She tired quickly, leaning against his chest, feeling it inflate and deflate with every breath he made, a heart beat slightly irregular, affirming its own uncertainty.

He wrapped his long arms around her, picking her up into them, carrying her back to house. She relented, knowing she could not stay angry, even if she wanted to.

It had snowed last night

It had snowed last night. It was still snowing now. She looked out the window, her hair falling gently around her face, almost as pale as the white outside. She tipped her forehead against the cool window, her warmth spreading out onto the glass’s surface. She breathed heavily, a soft vapor coming out of cherry red lips. Dim lights flickered in the background and outside, illuminated shadows on the snow banks. She shivered, cold inside the house as well. She ran a small, soft hand through her hair, combing it through her fingers, slowly, unsurely, remembering.

She left, and he hadn’t tried to stop her. She had hoped he would, give her some reason to stay. Words weren’t enough for her, and words were her life. Those words weren’t enough for her maybe. She rolled her face against the cool glass, closing her eyes, trying to understand why he didn’t stop her. She wrapped her arms around her body, feeling the lace camisole on the skin of her arms. A gift from him. And as soon as she got home, she ran to her bedroom to put it on, unable to erase his touch from her mind. It smelled like him. Like his hands when he carved furniture out of wood. Oh, those hands.

The wind picked up, rattling the doors of houses in the distance, an eerie sound sweeping through the branches of the old trees. The hinges on her own door creaked with age as it swung dangerously from them, threatening to break. She could feel the vibrations travel onto her cheekbones, her teeth chattering with cold and sound. She started to hum, trying to bring herself to ask the question of why she even left.

The long drive home made her fearful that she wouldn’t feel the way she did about him ever again. She walked over to her fireplace, pulling matchsticks from the mantel, lighting one against the rough sand board on the side of the box.  The flame bloomed in the night’s air, and she watched it dance on the piece of wood. She titled her head, not sure if she was seeing legs of a ballerina tip toe on the wood, flickering between red and yellow, to blue. The dancing flame highlighted the orange in her eyes, a feral look sneaking over her. How dare he declare that to her? Who did he think he was?

She tossed the match into the helm, watching the timber slowly succumb to the ballerina’s dance. Tears fell down her face as she watched the fire burn. He didn’t know that she had taken the jewelry box he made her from the cabin, the gift that had another inside. She watched it turn orange and then black, crumbling edges falling away. She could hear the sizzle as her tears hit the stone hearth, the warmth already had spread to the outside.

A light flickered that was not part of the dance. She frowned to herself, annoyed at the show’s interruptions. She sighed heavily, hoping the light would go away as it shined through her fogged windows.  She stood, running her hands up the stone work, feeling the warmth disappear the higher she pulled her finger tips along the uneven surface. She walked to the window, trying to make out the headlights that got brighter as she watched. Her eyes squinted, causing her to shield them with a soot-covered palm, leaving an imprint on her forehead. Then she recognized the truck.

She grew angry, her face hot and blushed, storming to the front door. She watched him get out of his truck, black dark circles under his eyes, she could see that from the doorway. The truck’s door slam made her shutter, the sound reverberated off the outside walls. She pushed her shoulders back, hoping for confidence to emanate from them. She watched him stride up, walk with purpose, towards her front door, not saying anything.

He stormed up her front steps, walked right through the threshold of her front door, and kissed her. She felt his hands, calloused from woodwork, curl around her neck, his chapped lips on hers. She responded, forcefully wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her, pushing her hips into him.

“I will never leave you again,” he spoke into her lips. And she allowed herself to be held, allowed herself to melt into him.

To start with a story...

“You’re a fool,” said the court jester, jumping around the banquet hall, jeering at the prince. “A foolish fool, you are indeed. You see not for sight and are blind.” The jester jumped lightly across the floor, teetering on his toes, flailing his hands about in a mocking manner.

The court jester smiled wickedly at the prince’s look of contempt. “You believe I am the fool?”

The prince nodded his head, replying “I am not the one dancing in a banquet hall for the amusement of others.” He spread his arms out to make his point.

People sitting on chairs surrounding the hall giggled and hooted at the court jester. But he was not embarrassed. He turned on his toes again, spinning into a pirouette, emphasizing his mockery. This is what he does. He smiled at the prince, and bowed at the crowd of people. He bounced up to a young woman who was dressed in a light blue gown, lace hugging the edges of her collar, lying against her skin like lily pads on a pond. He held out a thin hand to her, which she took obligingly. She giggled, and blushed slightly.

“My lady, what is your name?” he asked graciously. When she didn’t answer, only smiling politely, the court jester leaned closely into her neck, tickling her collar with the bells on his hat. She whispered her name into his ear, and then pulled back, giggling some more.

He bowed to her. “Ah, I have your beautiful name now! And the prince does not!” The crowd laughed, but the prince did not. The jester let go of the young woman’s hand, bowing again. She returned a courtesy, cheeks pink, but a guiltily pleasurable smile remained on her lips as she waltzed back to her seat.

The court jester leered at the prince. “And what did you see, Princely?”

The prince turned red at the question, contemptuous. “I see you trying to make a fool of me,” he responded quietly. “I see a future for you outside of this castle.”

The court jester stopped his bouncing and turned to look at the prince. He paled slightly, furrowed his brow, and shook his head at the prince. “And so you see nothing. You don’t see a young woman with the color skin so white, it could have been porcelain if one turns their head just right under the window light.” He bounced over to window, springing lightly from one foot to another, pointing to the yellow rays of sunshine beaming in from the window.

He bounced back, spinning and dancing across the marble floors, swinging out his arms. He bowed low in front of the prince, who was coloring a deeper red as his disdain grew. “You do not see how her smile is shy and hopeful, but guarded, possibly suspicious I might try something sinful with her.” He glided over to the young woman whose name he knew, and bowed his smiling face, the jingle of his bells jauntily playing a song.

“You do not see how I delight this young woman, how my attentions make her blush with pleasure.” The young woman smiled brighter, and leaned back towards her maids, who were not sure if laughing was the right response to this court jester.