Original SERENADE Draft
Nov 10, 2014 9:35:29 GMT
Post by Admin on Nov 10, 2014 9:35:29 GMT
« Thread started on: Jun 22nd, 2012, 10:54pm »
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((comp dated 3-9-04... recopied fom print around then... original story drafted several yrs prior))
As my eyes open I am lying on bed of silk. I'm bare save for a sheet corner pulled over my middle. I hear music. Violin music. It seems to beckon me. I rise to find a dress just my size in the closet, and on the armoire I find a red ribbon and some pins to put my hair up. Barefooted I creep out my door to the hall. The music is louder here.
To my left is another room. I walk to the door and hold my breath. My violin player is not here and I'm not sure if I feel relief or disappointment. I head back the other way, past my door, still open, to the top of the stairs. My music is down there. Ahead of me is a small half circle window high in the wall. A full moon shines in to aid me in my descent. The music gets louder. Its very essence vibrates my soul as the notes vibrate my ears. My body begins to come alive as the notes become closer. I turn right at the bottom of the stairs. I know not where I am, but allow my ears and soul to guide me to the source of my heart's yearning. At a set of double doors I pause. It is here!
The music. The musician. The answers. My hands reach out to the handles when the door suddenly swings open apparently of its own accord. Paying no attention, as though it had been expected, I take a step in and see him. His back is to me and I take another step hoping he will turn and face me. When he makes no move I drink him in like a starving animal. All of my senses are bombarded at once.
His hair, a midnight black that seems almost to be the night sky. His boots are black, same as his hair, but like a glossy lake on a night of no moon. His jacket is black also and I wonder momentarily if I am staring at his shadow. His pants are dark gray, tucked into his boots. Once again, my senses return to the music as if hearing it for the first time. The fire, several feet from me, gives off heat as though I were standing right by it. He turns slowly to face me, and as his music crescendos, my heart seems to cease its beating.
Gasping for air, I feel as though I am falling into his eyes. His deep eyes. His soul. As the notes cease, I feel his gaze on me grow heavy. I feel him in my head as one feels a pleasant thought. Warm, comforting, inviting. Though his only motions seem to be in placing the violin and bow on a nearby chair, suddenly he is across the room and standing before me. I'm frozen, unable to speak. As he walks around me I feel his gaze on me once more.
On my hair, my back, my arms, my bare feet, 'till he circles full round and then it is my face he is peering at. His eyes meet mine and I feel my defenses melt. I care not now where I am or how I came to be here. I only know that for as long as those eyes look at me like that, nothing else matters.
"Good evening."
Those two words fall from his lips as stars would fall from the sky. My heart stirs and my soul feels alive as I stammer for my voice to answer.
"Good evening, sir." My voice answers yet it sounds like grating concrete compared to the bird song that came from him.
"The night was beginning without you," he purred, seemingly oblivious to the affect he was having on me. "I feared you were unable to wake yourself, so I helped." He gestured to the violin across the room on the chair. "Soon the rising of the moon will become a sign for you to automatically awaken. Fear not, your body will soon adjust."
With that he floated away to the other side of the room. I say floated because his walk was too graceful to be called anything else. Slowly my wits began to return though my soul kept uttering one word, "Devan". Unsure of the meaning of either the word my soul sang or my purpose for being here, I began where I could.
"Where am I?" My own voice still seemed hard though growing softer, like an adolescent boy whose voice was changing. Yet, I could think of no reason for the change.
"In my house. I call it Serenade. If you listen closely you will hear it. The soft lulling the house exudes to those it welcomes. Soon you, too, will become welcome by the house as I have welcomed you."
"I'm sure I don't understand." When my voice cracks this time my hand flies to my throat.
That's when I feel them. Two small bumps at the pulse spot on my neck, like insect bites. Then my mind begins racing.
I was dancing at a ball held in honor of a visiting Count my father knew. A Count my father said was searching for his Countess. I humored my father
by attending. Though somehow I thought my green eyes and fire red hair would scare him off like most of the other men in my life. When added to my big mouth and small nose, not to mention I was 25 years old, I figured I would be safe. But when our eyes met, I knew right then that I was anything but safe.
"Ms Alexandra Katherine Prescott, daughter of Governor Andrew Prescott."
As I was presented to the Count I curtsied like all the other women had. The other girls had been prettier, curtsied lower, batted their eyelashes, and had sported smiles befitting models. Yet, as our eyes met across that short space, I knew he had made his choice. Just as I had made mine.
He had asked me to dance the first dance of the evening, and every one after that. Around midnight I had excused myself. My head needed clearing from the champagne and I thought a moonlit ride through the fields beyond the house would do the trick of both clearing my head and maybe my lovestruck heart. I made some excuse about checking the kitchen, like a good hostess, and had fled up to my room by way of the staff stairs.
Once in my room I changed into my riding gear and grabbed my gloves. I ran down the back staircase to my father's office and slipped out the French doors to the back porch before anyone could stop me. A sudden gush of cold night air hit me with such force that I had to grab the railing for support till my head stopped spinning. Realizing I had forgotten my jacket I turned back towards the office door when suddenly I saw two eyes glaring at me from the darkness of the room. I turned and flew down the outside stairs and made for
the stables at a full run. My horse was already saddled. Figuring one of the maids had guessed my destination and had told the stable hands, I never gave it a second thought.
My midnight rides had become accepted as normal by the household. I sprang onto my horse and kicked her into full run before I was completely in the saddle.
A few minutes later I topped the rise at the north end of the field, named Moon Ridge because you can see the whole of the grounds from there on a night of a full moon.
Turning to see if anyone had heard me leave the party and had followed, I slowly reigned my mount in to a slow trot. Feeling at last alone, I stopped my horse and jumped to the ground. My horse grazed contentedly a few feet away while I made myself comfortable under one of the two trees on the hill. I closed my eyes and immediately his face filled my thoughts. I opened my eyes to try and clear the vision from my mind, yet there he was again. I began to think of myself as drunk, though I hadn't had that much champagne to drink, because I could almost swear that he was standing not 30 feet away under the other tree.
"Good evening, Alex. May I call you Alex?"
His voice seemed so real. As he crossed the space between us, I began to wonder how I had not noticed him coming up the hill. He offered his hand to help me up and I wondered briefly if I would wake up any minute with my horses muzzle in my grasp. I reached out and touched flesh. Immediately I shrank back in fear. I could not believe this was really happening.
"Your father told me you came up here often so I came to wait for you when you did not come back to the party right away."
As I finally allowed him to help me up, our eyes met. His eyes, so blue as to seem like ice, yet so warm as to portray a summer sky.
"Alex is fine," I finally managed to stammer, "your Highness."
"Your Highness is not necessary. May I kiss you?"
"Yes."
My answer came as quickly as his question and I only had a split second before I felt his kiss on my cheek. His lips were like a willow branch brushing my face on a warm breezy day.
"Yes," I whispered again. I closed my eyes wanting to savor this moment for eternity.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
((comp dated 3-9-04... recopied fom print around then... original story drafted several yrs prior))
As my eyes open I am lying on bed of silk. I'm bare save for a sheet corner pulled over my middle. I hear music. Violin music. It seems to beckon me. I rise to find a dress just my size in the closet, and on the armoire I find a red ribbon and some pins to put my hair up. Barefooted I creep out my door to the hall. The music is louder here.
To my left is another room. I walk to the door and hold my breath. My violin player is not here and I'm not sure if I feel relief or disappointment. I head back the other way, past my door, still open, to the top of the stairs. My music is down there. Ahead of me is a small half circle window high in the wall. A full moon shines in to aid me in my descent. The music gets louder. Its very essence vibrates my soul as the notes vibrate my ears. My body begins to come alive as the notes become closer. I turn right at the bottom of the stairs. I know not where I am, but allow my ears and soul to guide me to the source of my heart's yearning. At a set of double doors I pause. It is here!
The music. The musician. The answers. My hands reach out to the handles when the door suddenly swings open apparently of its own accord. Paying no attention, as though it had been expected, I take a step in and see him. His back is to me and I take another step hoping he will turn and face me. When he makes no move I drink him in like a starving animal. All of my senses are bombarded at once.
His hair, a midnight black that seems almost to be the night sky. His boots are black, same as his hair, but like a glossy lake on a night of no moon. His jacket is black also and I wonder momentarily if I am staring at his shadow. His pants are dark gray, tucked into his boots. Once again, my senses return to the music as if hearing it for the first time. The fire, several feet from me, gives off heat as though I were standing right by it. He turns slowly to face me, and as his music crescendos, my heart seems to cease its beating.
Gasping for air, I feel as though I am falling into his eyes. His deep eyes. His soul. As the notes cease, I feel his gaze on me grow heavy. I feel him in my head as one feels a pleasant thought. Warm, comforting, inviting. Though his only motions seem to be in placing the violin and bow on a nearby chair, suddenly he is across the room and standing before me. I'm frozen, unable to speak. As he walks around me I feel his gaze on me once more.
On my hair, my back, my arms, my bare feet, 'till he circles full round and then it is my face he is peering at. His eyes meet mine and I feel my defenses melt. I care not now where I am or how I came to be here. I only know that for as long as those eyes look at me like that, nothing else matters.
"Good evening."
Those two words fall from his lips as stars would fall from the sky. My heart stirs and my soul feels alive as I stammer for my voice to answer.
"Good evening, sir." My voice answers yet it sounds like grating concrete compared to the bird song that came from him.
"The night was beginning without you," he purred, seemingly oblivious to the affect he was having on me. "I feared you were unable to wake yourself, so I helped." He gestured to the violin across the room on the chair. "Soon the rising of the moon will become a sign for you to automatically awaken. Fear not, your body will soon adjust."
With that he floated away to the other side of the room. I say floated because his walk was too graceful to be called anything else. Slowly my wits began to return though my soul kept uttering one word, "Devan". Unsure of the meaning of either the word my soul sang or my purpose for being here, I began where I could.
"Where am I?" My own voice still seemed hard though growing softer, like an adolescent boy whose voice was changing. Yet, I could think of no reason for the change.
"In my house. I call it Serenade. If you listen closely you will hear it. The soft lulling the house exudes to those it welcomes. Soon you, too, will become welcome by the house as I have welcomed you."
"I'm sure I don't understand." When my voice cracks this time my hand flies to my throat.
That's when I feel them. Two small bumps at the pulse spot on my neck, like insect bites. Then my mind begins racing.
I was dancing at a ball held in honor of a visiting Count my father knew. A Count my father said was searching for his Countess. I humored my father
by attending. Though somehow I thought my green eyes and fire red hair would scare him off like most of the other men in my life. When added to my big mouth and small nose, not to mention I was 25 years old, I figured I would be safe. But when our eyes met, I knew right then that I was anything but safe.
"Ms Alexandra Katherine Prescott, daughter of Governor Andrew Prescott."
As I was presented to the Count I curtsied like all the other women had. The other girls had been prettier, curtsied lower, batted their eyelashes, and had sported smiles befitting models. Yet, as our eyes met across that short space, I knew he had made his choice. Just as I had made mine.
He had asked me to dance the first dance of the evening, and every one after that. Around midnight I had excused myself. My head needed clearing from the champagne and I thought a moonlit ride through the fields beyond the house would do the trick of both clearing my head and maybe my lovestruck heart. I made some excuse about checking the kitchen, like a good hostess, and had fled up to my room by way of the staff stairs.
Once in my room I changed into my riding gear and grabbed my gloves. I ran down the back staircase to my father's office and slipped out the French doors to the back porch before anyone could stop me. A sudden gush of cold night air hit me with such force that I had to grab the railing for support till my head stopped spinning. Realizing I had forgotten my jacket I turned back towards the office door when suddenly I saw two eyes glaring at me from the darkness of the room. I turned and flew down the outside stairs and made for
the stables at a full run. My horse was already saddled. Figuring one of the maids had guessed my destination and had told the stable hands, I never gave it a second thought.
My midnight rides had become accepted as normal by the household. I sprang onto my horse and kicked her into full run before I was completely in the saddle.
A few minutes later I topped the rise at the north end of the field, named Moon Ridge because you can see the whole of the grounds from there on a night of a full moon.
Turning to see if anyone had heard me leave the party and had followed, I slowly reigned my mount in to a slow trot. Feeling at last alone, I stopped my horse and jumped to the ground. My horse grazed contentedly a few feet away while I made myself comfortable under one of the two trees on the hill. I closed my eyes and immediately his face filled my thoughts. I opened my eyes to try and clear the vision from my mind, yet there he was again. I began to think of myself as drunk, though I hadn't had that much champagne to drink, because I could almost swear that he was standing not 30 feet away under the other tree.
"Good evening, Alex. May I call you Alex?"
His voice seemed so real. As he crossed the space between us, I began to wonder how I had not noticed him coming up the hill. He offered his hand to help me up and I wondered briefly if I would wake up any minute with my horses muzzle in my grasp. I reached out and touched flesh. Immediately I shrank back in fear. I could not believe this was really happening.
"Your father told me you came up here often so I came to wait for you when you did not come back to the party right away."
As I finally allowed him to help me up, our eyes met. His eyes, so blue as to seem like ice, yet so warm as to portray a summer sky.
"Alex is fine," I finally managed to stammer, "your Highness."
"Your Highness is not necessary. May I kiss you?"
"Yes."
My answer came as quickly as his question and I only had a split second before I felt his kiss on my cheek. His lips were like a willow branch brushing my face on a warm breezy day.
"Yes," I whispered again. I closed my eyes wanting to savor this moment for eternity.