Home | Join! | Help | Browse | Forums | NuWorld | NWF | PoPo   
















Recently Added
sjcswank's Reading Room


Fantasy
by: Swanky

A/N: I would really love it if who ever reads this would drop me a line and let me know hw you see this scene in your mind. I have always loved the way differnt people invision the same things, and I have found that this story is a gret one to use for this. If you do let me know what you see, I'll tell you what I saw when I worte it so you can see the differneces too if you like. ;o)

~*~

Fantasy


I am curled up nicely on the couch; legs gingerly crossed at my ankles, knees pulled up to where my wrists lay, hands gently clasped around a small, soft-bound book. I imagine that I could be beautiful this way, if anyone would ever care to notice.

I picture a man sitting across from me in the lush violet chair in the corner, his legs slightly parted, arms resting casually on the high rounded arms. He is looking at me as I read, my blue eyes dark, intense with the treasure before them. My fingers lightly swipe across the soft pages remaining, and a smile crosses his face as he recalls that same touch against his arm as we sleep.

He gazes on, marveling at how accustomed we have become to one another. I never let him stare at me so long, so intently, but my mind is elsewhere. I am lost in a colorful world of magic and rainforests, golden sunsets and dangerous nights, women of centuries old beauty and prepubescent scullery boys. My mind races with images of castles and cottages, rings with the joyous chords of a wedding choir and the ominous tones of a lost baritone. He watches as fire flashes and fairies swim in deep blue irises. My body shivers and tiny bumps dance across my skin with fictional transitions from autumn to winter, and he feels the muscles of his glorious arms twitch with the longing to wrap me up in his warm embrace, gently and loving, chasing away the chill.

And we sit, me on the long, black couch, him in his sumptuous chair, long after the noon sun rises and falls, casting amber streams of light across the warm wooden floor, landing perfectly across my hands. Hands that look short and stumpy, riddled with the marks of hard work and age far beyond their years. How can it be, that hands so cracked and callused seem to him the epitome of tenderness and devotion, he wonders.

I look over at his corner as a gentle breeze ruffles the curtains there, just in time to catch a glimpse of warm tawny eyes before true darkness envelops the room. There is nothing there but the dark shadow of a perfect purple chair.

~*~
sjcswank's Weblog Site • NuTang.com

NuTang is the first web site to implement PPGY Technology. This page was generated in 0.227seconds.

  Send to a friend on AIM | Set as Homepage | Bookmark Home | NuTang Collage | Terms of Service & Privacy Policy | Link to Us | Monthly Top 10s
All content © Copyright 2003-2047 NuTang.com and respective members. Contact us at NuTang[AT]gmail.com.