A different love story. Love comes in many forms.
He sighed out of pleasure.
"Ah, now that's better" he exclaimed as his sore and old back came in contact with the chairs soft fabric.
He looked around the room of his one story flat in the midst of London's hectic outside life. What he saw was a cozy little room decorated with 18th century inspired furniture, the finest rococo, and brown and wine-red colored wallpapers combined with golden stripes. In the middle of the room there was placed a tiny tea-table just large enough for two people to gather around and have tea and two chairs covered with emerald-green silk fabric were placed by it, each on either side of the square-shaped table.
In the far corner of the room next to a wooden grandpa-clock there stood a majestic glass-cabinet filled with trophies and medals.
"I certainly was an outstanding horse polo player in my younger days..." Edward thought to himself. And indeed he had been. He had won countless competitions and had even competed in the world championships for his country, England.
He was also a Second World War veteran and medals of Honor were pinned to his old officer's jacket in his bedroom dresser.
But those days were over now, those days when he had been chased after by young women adoring his bravery and skills. He had been the Casanova of his time.
It had been a fine life, the life of a young bachelor enjoying women as if they were something just for the night, but now when he no longer was attractive to women he felt utterly alone and he wished that he had been able to settle with a woman before it had been too late.
He longed for a wife, children and grand-children to which he could share his heroic tales of battle and teach the tricks of being a good rider and polo player though this chance had passed him by long ago.
It made his heart ache when he thought of all the "could have been 's" in his life and he drowned his sorrow in a fine crystal glass of scotch whiskey.
He just needed "someone" to socialize with... someone to talk old memories with. Most of his friends had passed away a few years ago, and the empty space they left in his life was much too painful.
The music reached a powerful crescendo and Edward almost reached a feeling of ecstasy when he listened. He became one with the music and it was as if the violinists were playing on his heart strings with their bows. The crescendo grew and kept growing until it reached its maximum where it turned to a diminuendo, growing quieter and softer for each tune.
Edward followed the music with gentle movements of his hands. The hands pierced through the air in tune with the temperament of the music.
It had been a childhood dream of Edwards to one day lead a symphony orchestra. He would make the musicians play gentle sonatas, waltzes, operettas... and they would all follow his lead.
This was yet another dream unfulfilled in his life. He did not even possess the musical knowledge one must have to lead an orchestra; he did not even possess the knowledge to play an instrument. All he knew was that he adored music with all of his heart.
He would sit in his chair all night listening to tunes from the Baroque-era.
The whiskey-glass was now empty, and he had drenched his sorrows for the time being.
He felt the urge to take a walk in the park. After all he didn't live all too far away from Hyde Park.
"Some fresh air might clear up my mind a bit". He thought to himself as he headed for the front door.
He dressed himself in a long beige trench coat and a black top-hat.
The "young people" he passed threw mocking faces at his direction, but he didn't mind them. He had learnt to ignore them long ago. He swung his walking stick around as he whistled a jolly melody.
A double-decker vroom-ed past him so quickly when he had just crossed a street that he nearly fell backwards.
He sighed out of relief. He knew that a fall could have been fatal as he probably would have broken at least his hip bone, if not his spine.
He pointed his stick at the bus which was now rounding a corner a bit further up the street. "Bloody inconsiderate youngsters!" he shouted and as a response he got some nasty glares from a group of schoolgirls who happened to just pass by.
"I'm sorry loves, I didn't mean you!" he wanted to tell the girls, but he knew it was for no use. He would just scare them of or make them even madder at him.
"Why do I even bother?" he asked himself and then continued his stroll with even lower spirit than before.
When he finally reached Hyde Park he sat down on the nearest park bench he could find.
Then he closed his eyes and inhaled all the scents and sounds.
He could hear the twitter of birds singing in the trees above him, the clicking-noise of a nearby squirrel trying to open a nut even the quiet flitter of butterfly wings. He felt blessed that he had such extraordinary hearing for being as old as he was, and he wouldn't waste a day not enjoying sounds like these while he still could.
The sound of the wind gently breezing through the leaves of a giant deciduous tree next to where he sat gave him a sense of calmness. How soothing these sounds and scents where to him, he barely wanted to open his eyes.
Maybe this would be the best way to die, he thought, sitting here in this beautiful park being soothed to sleep by the beautiful tunes of Mother Nature...
Mother Nature was the last woman there was that still loved him, he thought and sighed.
Yet, he was glad that at least she did. But then again, Mother Nature loves all her children.
He was abruptly awoken from his thoughts by the feeling of something cold and wet touching the skin of his left leg.
He quickly withdrew his leg, opened his eyes and looked down.
There before him sat a beautiful black dog.
It looked like a mix between a poodle and a Labrador. Its fur was curly like a poodles but the size and bone-structure of the body was that of a Labrador. The dog gazed at him with giant, puppy-like hazel-brown eyes. Its slim and long tail wagged ferociously from side to side along with its whole backside. It had its mouth wide open and the pink tongue was hanging out so far it almost touched the ground and it made it look as if it was smiling.
The whole look of the dog made Edward laugh out of pure joy.
He had fallen in love! He reached out a shaky hand and scratched the dog behind its right ear. The dog sat down on its bottom and raised a leg and started to scratch with the leg in the air at the same time as it tilted its head to the right and closed its eyes.
It was panting loudly.
He noticed that the dog had no collar, so he decided to take it home with him and keep the look-out for any "missing dog" posters or notices.
The dog followed him obediently at his side all the way home.
When they had reached the flat Edward was able to determine that it was a bitch.
"You are indeed the true love of my life" Edward said to her and stroked her gently.
He named her "Jo-Jo".
And so Edward and Jo-Jo lived happily together in the small flat in the midst of London's hectic outside life and, to Edwards's relief, nobody came to claim her even if he had set up posters in the whole neighborhood.
That was the end of the story of Edward Brighton and Jo-Jo...
Short story by Sabrina
Read 1210 times
Written on 2006-10-03 at 18:09
Tags Love Story
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The love story between Edward Brighton and Jo-Jo
Edward Brighton leaned back into his comfortable wine-colored leather chair while the soft tunes of Mozart's "Divertimento in B flat Major" flowed from the speakers of his old radio.He sighed out of pleasure.
"Ah, now that's better" he exclaimed as his sore and old back came in contact with the chairs soft fabric.
He looked around the room of his one story flat in the midst of London's hectic outside life. What he saw was a cozy little room decorated with 18th century inspired furniture, the finest rococo, and brown and wine-red colored wallpapers combined with golden stripes. In the middle of the room there was placed a tiny tea-table just large enough for two people to gather around and have tea and two chairs covered with emerald-green silk fabric were placed by it, each on either side of the square-shaped table.
In the far corner of the room next to a wooden grandpa-clock there stood a majestic glass-cabinet filled with trophies and medals.
"I certainly was an outstanding horse polo player in my younger days..." Edward thought to himself. And indeed he had been. He had won countless competitions and had even competed in the world championships for his country, England.
He was also a Second World War veteran and medals of Honor were pinned to his old officer's jacket in his bedroom dresser.
But those days were over now, those days when he had been chased after by young women adoring his bravery and skills. He had been the Casanova of his time.
It had been a fine life, the life of a young bachelor enjoying women as if they were something just for the night, but now when he no longer was attractive to women he felt utterly alone and he wished that he had been able to settle with a woman before it had been too late.
He longed for a wife, children and grand-children to which he could share his heroic tales of battle and teach the tricks of being a good rider and polo player though this chance had passed him by long ago.
It made his heart ache when he thought of all the "could have been 's" in his life and he drowned his sorrow in a fine crystal glass of scotch whiskey.
He just needed "someone" to socialize with... someone to talk old memories with. Most of his friends had passed away a few years ago, and the empty space they left in his life was much too painful.
The music reached a powerful crescendo and Edward almost reached a feeling of ecstasy when he listened. He became one with the music and it was as if the violinists were playing on his heart strings with their bows. The crescendo grew and kept growing until it reached its maximum where it turned to a diminuendo, growing quieter and softer for each tune.
Edward followed the music with gentle movements of his hands. The hands pierced through the air in tune with the temperament of the music.
It had been a childhood dream of Edwards to one day lead a symphony orchestra. He would make the musicians play gentle sonatas, waltzes, operettas... and they would all follow his lead.
This was yet another dream unfulfilled in his life. He did not even possess the musical knowledge one must have to lead an orchestra; he did not even possess the knowledge to play an instrument. All he knew was that he adored music with all of his heart.
He would sit in his chair all night listening to tunes from the Baroque-era.
The whiskey-glass was now empty, and he had drenched his sorrows for the time being.
He felt the urge to take a walk in the park. After all he didn't live all too far away from Hyde Park.
"Some fresh air might clear up my mind a bit". He thought to himself as he headed for the front door.
He dressed himself in a long beige trench coat and a black top-hat.
The "young people" he passed threw mocking faces at his direction, but he didn't mind them. He had learnt to ignore them long ago. He swung his walking stick around as he whistled a jolly melody.
A double-decker vroom-ed past him so quickly when he had just crossed a street that he nearly fell backwards.
He sighed out of relief. He knew that a fall could have been fatal as he probably would have broken at least his hip bone, if not his spine.
He pointed his stick at the bus which was now rounding a corner a bit further up the street. "Bloody inconsiderate youngsters!" he shouted and as a response he got some nasty glares from a group of schoolgirls who happened to just pass by.
"I'm sorry loves, I didn't mean you!" he wanted to tell the girls, but he knew it was for no use. He would just scare them of or make them even madder at him.
"Why do I even bother?" he asked himself and then continued his stroll with even lower spirit than before.
When he finally reached Hyde Park he sat down on the nearest park bench he could find.
Then he closed his eyes and inhaled all the scents and sounds.
He could hear the twitter of birds singing in the trees above him, the clicking-noise of a nearby squirrel trying to open a nut even the quiet flitter of butterfly wings. He felt blessed that he had such extraordinary hearing for being as old as he was, and he wouldn't waste a day not enjoying sounds like these while he still could.
The sound of the wind gently breezing through the leaves of a giant deciduous tree next to where he sat gave him a sense of calmness. How soothing these sounds and scents where to him, he barely wanted to open his eyes.
Maybe this would be the best way to die, he thought, sitting here in this beautiful park being soothed to sleep by the beautiful tunes of Mother Nature...
Mother Nature was the last woman there was that still loved him, he thought and sighed.
Yet, he was glad that at least she did. But then again, Mother Nature loves all her children.
He was abruptly awoken from his thoughts by the feeling of something cold and wet touching the skin of his left leg.
He quickly withdrew his leg, opened his eyes and looked down.
There before him sat a beautiful black dog.
It looked like a mix between a poodle and a Labrador. Its fur was curly like a poodles but the size and bone-structure of the body was that of a Labrador. The dog gazed at him with giant, puppy-like hazel-brown eyes. Its slim and long tail wagged ferociously from side to side along with its whole backside. It had its mouth wide open and the pink tongue was hanging out so far it almost touched the ground and it made it look as if it was smiling.
The whole look of the dog made Edward laugh out of pure joy.
He had fallen in love! He reached out a shaky hand and scratched the dog behind its right ear. The dog sat down on its bottom and raised a leg and started to scratch with the leg in the air at the same time as it tilted its head to the right and closed its eyes.
It was panting loudly.
He noticed that the dog had no collar, so he decided to take it home with him and keep the look-out for any "missing dog" posters or notices.
The dog followed him obediently at his side all the way home.
When they had reached the flat Edward was able to determine that it was a bitch.
"You are indeed the true love of my life" Edward said to her and stroked her gently.
He named her "Jo-Jo".
And so Edward and Jo-Jo lived happily together in the small flat in the midst of London's hectic outside life and, to Edwards's relief, nobody came to claim her even if he had set up posters in the whole neighborhood.
That was the end of the story of Edward Brighton and Jo-Jo...
Short story by Sabrina
Read 1210 times
Written on 2006-10-03 at 18:09
Tags Love Story
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