A rather sad short story I wrote for my English Mock Exams. Set in a somewhat fantastical universe my friend and I are working on a book for, with characters from said story. He never gets the girl in the end, poor lad. Written for the prompt: 'A story b
"Blythe, I have something to tell you."
She was calm and quiet and serene, but more dangerous than a knife blade aimed at your heart. Because she was a Mage, a witch, a fire-caller; one who could bend flames to her will. She was a champion in the dueling ring, the best of the best. What was more, Danica Eldan was the daughter of a Fire Master, and magic flowed in her veins as thickly as blood. She was nobility in every sense of the word.
"You can tell me anything, Dani. You know that."
Who was he to love her? The bastard son of a good-for-nothing drunkard and a lady of the night; raised in the tumult of a travelling circus. He had no right to care for her as he did, no matter that the rules at the Collegium stressed Equality. Blythe Dorian was an Air Mage, a magician, an acrobat. But he would never be good enough for her. He still wondered every day at the fact that she somehow called him her best friend.
"I know."
Beautiful hesitation, painful anticipation. Blythe could only watch with tormented gray eyes as she struggled with words. Danica, his Danica, who had always been one for a snappy comeback or a sardonic grin... at a loss for wods. Blythe had known her now for six years. He knew something was coming. Something that would change them. He knew and he dreaded it, clinging in vain to the time when Danica was his alone, yet even then feeling her slip between his fingers like sand in an hourglass.
She opened her mouth to speak. Blythe didn't want to listen. He would anyway.
"I- Blythe... I'm getting married."
Pain. Deep, burning, soul-wrenching pain. Blythe could only look numbly at her and at the shards of his heart scattered at her feet. She looked back at him with worry in her hazel eyes, coupled with something... else. Something that was almost pleading.
Perhaps she knew that he loved her. Perhaps she wanted him to stop this madness, to tell her, to claim her, to show her just how much he cared for her. Blythe's throat worked, but his mind shied away, afraid of something he could not name. Afraid. A coward. Because he thought he was not good enough. Nothing, nothing, could top this moment on his pain scale, this not knowing yet knowing, coupled with the demons who represented every single what-might-have-been.
But even as he opened his mouth to blurt out his confession, something else emerged instead.
"Do you love him?"
Danica's eyes were sad.
"Yes."
Blythe spent a moment wishing fruitlessly that that man was him, that he had not been bound by his own fears and insecurities. That he had spoken first. Silence stretched, strained and was fractured by his shaky intake of breath. She said nothing. He was unravelling before her eyes. And she was silent.
Perhaps in a way, it was a kindness.
"... Congratulations. I wish you both... happiness."
Danica smiled, then. So sadly that Blythe felt like he need to close his eyes against the despair threatening to crush him, but he didn't. He kept his eyelids anchored open, that he could drink in the sight of his love, in the last moments that he could delude himself into believing she was his. He drank in the sight, hating it and cherishing it at the same time. She got up and she hugged him, so small in his arms.
I love you.
He had no right to this.
"Thank you. It means so much to me."
I love you.
"I know."
I love you.
Short story by Mklnay
Read 984 times
Written on 2010-12-16 at 18:01
Tags Love
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Unspoken (A short story)
It was love at first sight, perhaps, that sunny autumn day. She stood there talking to her friends, laughing, smiling... carefree. Beautiful. His friends told him 'no'. She was out of his league. He didn't care, because he already knew he loved her. But idealism was not his way."Blythe, I have something to tell you."
She was calm and quiet and serene, but more dangerous than a knife blade aimed at your heart. Because she was a Mage, a witch, a fire-caller; one who could bend flames to her will. She was a champion in the dueling ring, the best of the best. What was more, Danica Eldan was the daughter of a Fire Master, and magic flowed in her veins as thickly as blood. She was nobility in every sense of the word.
"You can tell me anything, Dani. You know that."
Who was he to love her? The bastard son of a good-for-nothing drunkard and a lady of the night; raised in the tumult of a travelling circus. He had no right to care for her as he did, no matter that the rules at the Collegium stressed Equality. Blythe Dorian was an Air Mage, a magician, an acrobat. But he would never be good enough for her. He still wondered every day at the fact that she somehow called him her best friend.
"I know."
Beautiful hesitation, painful anticipation. Blythe could only watch with tormented gray eyes as she struggled with words. Danica, his Danica, who had always been one for a snappy comeback or a sardonic grin... at a loss for wods. Blythe had known her now for six years. He knew something was coming. Something that would change them. He knew and he dreaded it, clinging in vain to the time when Danica was his alone, yet even then feeling her slip between his fingers like sand in an hourglass.
She opened her mouth to speak. Blythe didn't want to listen. He would anyway.
"I- Blythe... I'm getting married."
Pain. Deep, burning, soul-wrenching pain. Blythe could only look numbly at her and at the shards of his heart scattered at her feet. She looked back at him with worry in her hazel eyes, coupled with something... else. Something that was almost pleading.
Perhaps she knew that he loved her. Perhaps she wanted him to stop this madness, to tell her, to claim her, to show her just how much he cared for her. Blythe's throat worked, but his mind shied away, afraid of something he could not name. Afraid. A coward. Because he thought he was not good enough. Nothing, nothing, could top this moment on his pain scale, this not knowing yet knowing, coupled with the demons who represented every single what-might-have-been.
But even as he opened his mouth to blurt out his confession, something else emerged instead.
"Do you love him?"
Danica's eyes were sad.
"Yes."
Blythe spent a moment wishing fruitlessly that that man was him, that he had not been bound by his own fears and insecurities. That he had spoken first. Silence stretched, strained and was fractured by his shaky intake of breath. She said nothing. He was unravelling before her eyes. And she was silent.
Perhaps in a way, it was a kindness.
"... Congratulations. I wish you both... happiness."
Danica smiled, then. So sadly that Blythe felt like he need to close his eyes against the despair threatening to crush him, but he didn't. He kept his eyelids anchored open, that he could drink in the sight of his love, in the last moments that he could delude himself into believing she was his. He drank in the sight, hating it and cherishing it at the same time. She got up and she hugged him, so small in his arms.
I love you.
He had no right to this.
"Thank you. It means so much to me."
I love you.
"I know."
I love you.
Short story by Mklnay
Read 984 times
Written on 2010-12-16 at 18:01
Tags Love
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
Ferenc Inigo Beck |
