The Stolen Child, K.L. [best historical fiction books of all time .txt] 📗

Hands are clasped. Entwined.
He truly is beautiful. And kind. And sweet.
Emily glances at the man beside her, and squeezes tighter. She finds herself at the opening. Her mind is yet cloudy. Bodies passing seem black shadows and images flash before her.
A child she is.
Her face face against the floor, a man panting atop of her. Screams.
Every moment, with every moment comes screams.
As the image begins to climax the mind blackens. A whirlwind of emotions flood this child now grown.
Her love nears. His hand finds rest atop her shoulders, cupping her. With a quickened heart beat all is numb.
The feeling. A touch.
"Get off me." Her voice slightly raised, as her head is angled away. Tears brimming.
"What's the matter?" A look of concern and vexation. He is caught off guard.
Her back is hunched now. Hands are clasped and sweaty, rubbing them together in nervousness. Her eyes turn to his beggingly.
"Get away from me."
"Please."
His eyes narrow in concern. "What's the matter?"
He releases his hold as he faces her.
Emily. Emily. Your pain!

"I can't see you anymore! I can't!"Grasping her head she moves further away.
This isn't the first time she has distanced herself.
He broaches the clandestine topic. "Did you have another flashback?"
Frustration and an inescapable wish to be true with him, she vents.
"I don't know what's wrong with me. One minute I'm fine looking at the artwork and then my mind out of no where flashes to... to these images."
"Let's leave, yeah?"

The streets are cold. The bridge their backdrop the water front her distraction. As they stop to gaze at the wanning moon Emily's entire disposition calms to one od almost complete peace. However, in this change her love notices dull eyes and a feeble stance. "Don't do that Em's."She turns to him clearing her cheek of that last tear. "What do you mean? And when did we leave the art opening? Isn't it your big night?" His eyes are drawn down, his brows furrow.
Emily. Poor Emily

.
He cannot speak. He cups her cheek.
"Lets go home, huh?"
With a smile and an easy air, Emily takes her loves hand and follows. Outside her steps.
"Good night Emily." A kiss. A hug. A few steps and he turns.
"You know, you do remember why we left don't you?"
Her eyes fall a little.
"I do."
He steps up, level to her nose.
"Should you see someone? Would that help?"
Averted eyes meet and fall.
"I can't. What would I say Niles? Nothings really wrong is it?"
Stepping up to face her.
"Just try to talk to someone, please. I'll come if you like. Unless the problem is me. THen I suppose I would have to be told."
She smiles. So sweet.
My Niles. "Ok I'll try."
A queeze of the hand, a kiss upon the forehead, and a smile goodbye.

Her place is quiet. Warm colors, comfy textures and patches of white blankets and pillows. The fishes swim by the plant her and Niles bought. He named the fighter fish Wibbles and she named the other Whispers. A fond memory. Though an odd one.

****

"Whispers? We can't name her Whispers."
Placing his glasses aside Niles accentuates his dislike of the name.
"Why not? Wibbles isn't exactly a name for a fighter fish."
Walking over to the fish tank Niles smirks, "Mr. Wibbles you don't fancy a name change do you?"
Emily smiles. She's all smiles. With dough covered hands she walks over to her love and hugs him from behind. Face to face. A kiss upon the nose. "Whispers is a lovely name." Her head rests agains his chest. A heart beat can be heard, a tighter embrace she gives. The dumplings dry, the curry simmers, and the aroma fills the air.

****

Looking at the tank she remembers this espisode. "He must think I'm crazy." A tear followed by many run down her face. With randomness of thoughts she stares out her window. Eyelids become heavy and she finds rest upon her pillows. Thinking of Niles.

Text: This short story was written and edited by Kimberly Ledgister.
Publication Date: 07-31-2011

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