Tag: love stories

Written in the Stars

She stood on the shore and watched a star fall down from the heavens towards her. The closer it came, the smaller it got. It burnt brighter as it entered her atmosphere and then dimmed. She almost lost track of it altogether until she heard the thud of it landing in a sand dune behind her. She turned and ran to find it, just a small, flat piece of rock that had once been a star.

She picked it up. It was almost too hot to hold. She turned it over in her hand and couldn’t believe what she saw. There, etched in the stone in shimmering silver were the words: hello. Is there anyone out there as lonely as me?

The words made her heart hurt. She turned the stone over and pulled out a black marker pen from her pocket.

Yes. She wrote back and threw it as hard as she could in to the heavens. It vanished. She stood alone for a while feeling how small she was in this big and empty universe.

The next night she watched as another star fell towards her. This one was much bigger and it said I have thrown my words to the universe for centuries and now it has thrown me back a friend. Who are you?

And so they began to write to each other. The girl on the shore and the girl in the stars had a conversation that spanned the cosmos. It travelled at lightspeeds through moonbeams. It dove in to black holes and bounced across galaxies. The universe was still big and they were still small, but no longer alone. They had fallen in love in the starlight.

One night, without warning, the girl in the stars stopped replying. The girl on the shore waited. For decades she threw words at the stars who stayed silent. Her hair turned grey, her hands hurt when she moved them but still she wrote. Still she waited.

I miss you, she wrote with a shaley hand and raised her arm to throw it. But then in the distance she saw something. At first she thought it was her old eyes failing her, but as she squinted at the sky she saw the light of a falling star. When it entered her atmosphere it did not dim. It grew brighter and brighter until she almost couldn’t bare to look. One last flash and then there in the sand in front of her was a beautiful woman made of stardust.

“My love,” she smiled at the old woman on the shore. “You are so beautiful.”

The old woman blushed. “I am old,” she said.

“Your age is nothing compared to the universe. Everything that is anything no once burned in the heart of a star. Your outer shell does not matter. Not when we are all made of stardust.”

Via Daily Prompt: Blush

On Repeat

The music crackles and he takes my hand for the very first time. The record spins, he spins me with it. We laugh. We dance. We kiss. His song is on repeat.

It becomes our song.

It plays at our wedding.

It plays our daughter to sleep. She plays it herself when she is sad. When she leaves home the house feels empty so we fill the rooms with music.

It plays as we grow old.

It plays when he is ill.

It plays at his funeral.

It plays when I get sick too.

The music crackles and he takes my hand for the very last time.

via Daily Prompt: Record

Busking

Every day on his way to work James would pass a guy in the underground station playing a saxophone with his eyes closed. There were always three things that stood out to him- how good it sounded, how the music reminded him of a jazz band he’d been in at Uni and how very beautiful he looked when he played.

James would sit behind his desk and look at numbers and data and he would hum to himself. The sax player’s tune was improvised, but some version of it always ended up lodged in his head. He would sit at meetings and talk about sales targets, but his mind would be on jazz.

 This was a routine he fell in to. 
And it was a routine that sucked the life out of him. 
One grey and dreary Tuesday he stood in front of the mirror, trying to put on a tie but finding it impossible to move his hands. It was 07.36. He had three minutes before he had to leave his house if he wanted to get to the Tube station for work. He started to reach for his briefcase, but changed his mind and picked up something much larger in stead. 
That day, commuters saw not only their usual sax player but a man in a suit and no tie next to him, plucking and twirling and spinning a double bass. 
When the improvised collaboration was over the sax player turned to James and, with a smile, said, “Coffee?”

 

via Daily Prompt: Collaboration

Roots

On their first date they each planted a tree. Two, tiny saplings that they weren’t sure would survive.

She went off to University and he got a job in the City, but the tress grew all the same. Years passed them by. His job took him to another City and she went travelling for a while. He wrote books while she climbed mountains and studied elephants in the wild.

When they were old and grey they met again. They marvelled at how their trees had grown so beautifully, side by side and independently, but forever rooted in the same love.

via Daily Prompt: Roots

Opaque: The Unsculptable Man

The Glassmaker made figurines of everyone he met. Tiny, delicate statues that were so realistic many people swore that they had seen theirs move, or heard them whisper when their back was turned. There were some people who secretly felt that the figurine was a clearer image of the person they truly were than they were themselves.

Then the Glassmaker met a man he could not sculpt. He was the most charming and interesting man the Glassmaker had ever encountered. Try as he might, he could not persuade the glass to take his form. It couldn’t hold a shape so enchanting, or form a face so handsome. But most troublesome part of all was that, no matter what he did, the glass was opaque. This never happened. He could usually see so clearly.

It was on his twelfth attempt that the Glassmaker realised the problem. It was not the glass. Or the man. It was his own heart that was obscuring his vision, clouding the glass.

via Daily Prompt: Opaque

Vivid Love

The shadows that stalked me stained my world grey. They shrouded me like a cloud of smoke, draining me of my colours and hiding me from sight. I was cold and quiet and lonely.

Then I met you.

Our hearts met and I filled with light that chased the shadows away. Our eyes met and there was warm brown, rings of green. You sat with me in calming blue. You spoke in my favourite purple. You laughed in bright yellow. Your touch sparked vibrant reds, blushing pinks and fiery orange across my skin.

You kissed me and there was gold.

via Daily Prompt: Vivid