SERENADE I
Nov 10, 2014 9:40:11 GMT
Post by Admin on Nov 10, 2014 9:40:11 GMT
« Thread started on: Jun 22nd, 2012, 11:12pm »
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((comp dated 5-23-11))
SERENADE
By: Alexandra Moroveston
I
As her eyes opened she was lying on a bed of silk. She was bare except for a sheet corner pulled over her middle. As she sat up, she could hear music. Violin music. It seems to beckon to her. She rose to find a dress just her size in the closet, and on the armoire she found a red ribbon and some pins to pull back her hair. Barefooted she crept out the door to the hall. The music was louder here. To her left was another room. She walked to the door and held her breath. The violin player was not here and she wasn't sure if she should feel relieved or disappointed. She headed back the other way, past her door, still open, to the top of the stairs. Her music was down there. Ahead of her was a small half circle window high in the wall. A full moon shone in to aid her in her descent. The music got louder. Its very essence vibrated her soul as the notes vibrated her ears. Her body began to come alive as the notes became closer. She turned right at the bottom of the stairs. She still did not know where she was, but allowed her ears and soul to guide her to the source of her heart's yearning. At a set of double doors she paused. It is here! The music. The musician. The answers. Her hands reached out to the handles when the doors suddenly swung open on their own. Paying no attention, as though it had been expected, she takes a step in and sees him. His back is to her and she takes another step hoping he will turn and face her. When he makes no move she drinks him in like a starving animal. All of her senses are bombarded at once. His hair was a midnight black that seemed almost to be the night sky. His boots were black, same as his hair, but like a glossy lake on a night of no moon. His jacket was black also and she wondered momentarily if she was staring at his shadow. His pants were dark gray, tucked into his boots. Once again, her senses returned to the music as if hearing it for the first time. The fire, several feet away, gave off heat as though she were standing right by it. He turned slowly to face her, and as his music crescendos her heart seems to cease its beating. Gasping for air, she felt as though she were falling into his eyes. His deep eyes. His soul. As the notes ceased, she felt his gaze on her grow heavy. She felt him in her head as one would feel a pleasant thought. Warm, comforting, inviting. Though his only motions seemed to be in placing the violin and bow on a nearby chair, suddenly he was across the room and standing before her. She froze, unable to speak. As he walked around her she felt his gaze on her once more. On her hair, her back, her arms, her bare feet, 'till he circles full round and then it was her face he was peering at. His eyes met her's and she felt her defenses melt. Suddenly, she didn't care where she was or how she came to be here. She only knew that for as long as those eyes look at her like that, nothing else mattered.
"Good evening."
Those two words fell from his lips as stars would fall from the sky. Her heart stirred and her soul felt alive as she stammered for her voice.
"Good evening, sir." Her voice answered, yet it sounded 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 her. "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. She's unsure why the word floated came to mind. Maybe it was because his walk was too graceful to be called anything else. Slowly her wits began to return. As she looked at him again, she could hear a soft voice in the back of her head whispering the word 'Devan'. Unsure of the meaning of either the word her mind sang or her purpose for being here, she began where she could.
""Where am I?" Her own voice still seemed hard though it was growing softer, like an adolescent boy whose voice was changing. She 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 her voice cracked this time her hand flew to her throat. That's when she felt them. Two small bumps at the pulse spot on her neck, like insect bites.
Then her mind began racing. She was dancing at a ball held in honor of a visiting Count her father knew. A Count her father had said was searching for a Countess. She humored her father by attending. Though somehow she thought her green eyes and fire red hair would scare him off like most of the other men in her life. When added to her big mouth and small nose, not to mention she was 28 years old, she figured she would be safe. But when their eyes met, she knew right then that she was anything but safe.
"Ms Alexandra Katherine Prescott, daughter of Governor Andrew Prescott."
As she was presented to the Count she 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 their eyes met across that short space, she knew he had made his choice. Just as she had made hers.
He had asked her to dance the first dance of the evening, and every one after that. Around midnight she had excused herself. Her head needed clearing from the champagne and she thought a moonlit ride through the fields beyond the house would do the trick of clearing both her head and maybe her love struck heart. She made some excuse about checking the kitchen, like a good hostess, and had flown up to her room by way of the staff stairs. Once in her room she changed into riding gear and grabbed her gloves. She ran down the back staircase to her father's office and slipped out the French doors to the back porch before anyone could stop her. A sudden gush of cold night air hit her with such force that she had to grab the railing for support till her head stopped spinning. Realizing she had forgotten her jacket she turned back towards the office door. Suddenly she saw two eyes glaring at her from the darkness of the room. She turned and flew down the outside stairs and made for the stables at a full run. Her horse was already saddled. Figuring one of the maids had guessed her destination and had told the stable hands, she never gave it a second thought. Her midnight rides had become accepted as normal by the household. She sprang onto her horse and kicked it into full run before she was completely in the saddle.
A few minutes later she topped the rise at the north end of the field, named Moon Ridge because you could see the whole of the grounds from there on a night of a full moon.
Turning to see if anyone had heard her leaving the party and had followed, she slowly reined her mount in to a slow trot. Feeling at last alone, she stopped her horse and slid to the ground. Her horse grazed contentedly a few feet away while she made herself comfortable under one of the two trees on the hill. She closed her eyes and immediately his face filled her thoughts. She opened her eyes to try and clear the vision from her mind, yet there he was again. She began to think of herself as drunk, though she hadn't had that much champagne to drink, because she 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 them, she began to wonder how she had not noticed him coming up the hill. He offered his hand to help her up and she wondered briefly if she would wake up any minute with her horses muzzle in her grasp. She reached out and touched flesh. Immediately she shrank back in fear. She 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 she finally allowed him to help her up, their eyes met. His eyes, so blue as to seem like ice, yet so warm as to portray a summer sky.
"Alex is fine,” She finally managed to stammer, "your Highness."
"Your Highness is not necessary. May I kiss you?"
"Yes."
Her answer came as quickly as his question and she only had a split second before she felt his kiss on her cheek. His lips were like a willow branch brushing her face on a warm breezy day.
"Yes,” She whispered again. She closed her eyes wanting to savor this moment for eternity. He kissed her cheek, then her chin, her nose and suddenly, softly, her mouth. She fell into his kiss as one would fall into a deep well, with every fiber of her being telling her this is what she had waited for all her life.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
((comp dated 5-23-11))
SERENADE
By: Alexandra Moroveston
I
As her eyes opened she was lying on a bed of silk. She was bare except for a sheet corner pulled over her middle. As she sat up, she could hear music. Violin music. It seems to beckon to her. She rose to find a dress just her size in the closet, and on the armoire she found a red ribbon and some pins to pull back her hair. Barefooted she crept out the door to the hall. The music was louder here. To her left was another room. She walked to the door and held her breath. The violin player was not here and she wasn't sure if she should feel relieved or disappointed. She headed back the other way, past her door, still open, to the top of the stairs. Her music was down there. Ahead of her was a small half circle window high in the wall. A full moon shone in to aid her in her descent. The music got louder. Its very essence vibrated her soul as the notes vibrated her ears. Her body began to come alive as the notes became closer. She turned right at the bottom of the stairs. She still did not know where she was, but allowed her ears and soul to guide her to the source of her heart's yearning. At a set of double doors she paused. It is here! The music. The musician. The answers. Her hands reached out to the handles when the doors suddenly swung open on their own. Paying no attention, as though it had been expected, she takes a step in and sees him. His back is to her and she takes another step hoping he will turn and face her. When he makes no move she drinks him in like a starving animal. All of her senses are bombarded at once. His hair was a midnight black that seemed almost to be the night sky. His boots were black, same as his hair, but like a glossy lake on a night of no moon. His jacket was black also and she wondered momentarily if she was staring at his shadow. His pants were dark gray, tucked into his boots. Once again, her senses returned to the music as if hearing it for the first time. The fire, several feet away, gave off heat as though she were standing right by it. He turned slowly to face her, and as his music crescendos her heart seems to cease its beating. Gasping for air, she felt as though she were falling into his eyes. His deep eyes. His soul. As the notes ceased, she felt his gaze on her grow heavy. She felt him in her head as one would feel a pleasant thought. Warm, comforting, inviting. Though his only motions seemed to be in placing the violin and bow on a nearby chair, suddenly he was across the room and standing before her. She froze, unable to speak. As he walked around her she felt his gaze on her once more. On her hair, her back, her arms, her bare feet, 'till he circles full round and then it was her face he was peering at. His eyes met her's and she felt her defenses melt. Suddenly, she didn't care where she was or how she came to be here. She only knew that for as long as those eyes look at her like that, nothing else mattered.
"Good evening."
Those two words fell from his lips as stars would fall from the sky. Her heart stirred and her soul felt alive as she stammered for her voice.
"Good evening, sir." Her voice answered, yet it sounded 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 her. "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. She's unsure why the word floated came to mind. Maybe it was because his walk was too graceful to be called anything else. Slowly her wits began to return. As she looked at him again, she could hear a soft voice in the back of her head whispering the word 'Devan'. Unsure of the meaning of either the word her mind sang or her purpose for being here, she began where she could.
""Where am I?" Her own voice still seemed hard though it was growing softer, like an adolescent boy whose voice was changing. She 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 her voice cracked this time her hand flew to her throat. That's when she felt them. Two small bumps at the pulse spot on her neck, like insect bites.
Then her mind began racing. She was dancing at a ball held in honor of a visiting Count her father knew. A Count her father had said was searching for a Countess. She humored her father by attending. Though somehow she thought her green eyes and fire red hair would scare him off like most of the other men in her life. When added to her big mouth and small nose, not to mention she was 28 years old, she figured she would be safe. But when their eyes met, she knew right then that she was anything but safe.
"Ms Alexandra Katherine Prescott, daughter of Governor Andrew Prescott."
As she was presented to the Count she 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 their eyes met across that short space, she knew he had made his choice. Just as she had made hers.
He had asked her to dance the first dance of the evening, and every one after that. Around midnight she had excused herself. Her head needed clearing from the champagne and she thought a moonlit ride through the fields beyond the house would do the trick of clearing both her head and maybe her love struck heart. She made some excuse about checking the kitchen, like a good hostess, and had flown up to her room by way of the staff stairs. Once in her room she changed into riding gear and grabbed her gloves. She ran down the back staircase to her father's office and slipped out the French doors to the back porch before anyone could stop her. A sudden gush of cold night air hit her with such force that she had to grab the railing for support till her head stopped spinning. Realizing she had forgotten her jacket she turned back towards the office door. Suddenly she saw two eyes glaring at her from the darkness of the room. She turned and flew down the outside stairs and made for the stables at a full run. Her horse was already saddled. Figuring one of the maids had guessed her destination and had told the stable hands, she never gave it a second thought. Her midnight rides had become accepted as normal by the household. She sprang onto her horse and kicked it into full run before she was completely in the saddle.
A few minutes later she topped the rise at the north end of the field, named Moon Ridge because you could see the whole of the grounds from there on a night of a full moon.
Turning to see if anyone had heard her leaving the party and had followed, she slowly reined her mount in to a slow trot. Feeling at last alone, she stopped her horse and slid to the ground. Her horse grazed contentedly a few feet away while she made herself comfortable under one of the two trees on the hill. She closed her eyes and immediately his face filled her thoughts. She opened her eyes to try and clear the vision from her mind, yet there he was again. She began to think of herself as drunk, though she hadn't had that much champagne to drink, because she 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 them, she began to wonder how she had not noticed him coming up the hill. He offered his hand to help her up and she wondered briefly if she would wake up any minute with her horses muzzle in her grasp. She reached out and touched flesh. Immediately she shrank back in fear. She 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 she finally allowed him to help her up, their eyes met. His eyes, so blue as to seem like ice, yet so warm as to portray a summer sky.
"Alex is fine,” She finally managed to stammer, "your Highness."
"Your Highness is not necessary. May I kiss you?"
"Yes."
Her answer came as quickly as his question and she only had a split second before she felt his kiss on her cheek. His lips were like a willow branch brushing her face on a warm breezy day.
"Yes,” She whispered again. She closed her eyes wanting to savor this moment for eternity. He kissed her cheek, then her chin, her nose and suddenly, softly, her mouth. She fell into his kiss as one would fall into a deep well, with every fiber of her being telling her this is what she had waited for all her life.