FictionPress.com - let the words flow
| FictionPress.com - let the words flow |
|
| Home Just In Communities Forums Beta Readers Dictionary Search | Login Register Extras |
AM
HM
For a writing contest on GaiaOnline, the same one Ain't That Unusual was written for. Round two. Prompt for htis round: "Lie, it's all right."
My friend came over last night and we swam in my pool and talked for about an hour about various things. Be warned for something about hobos in the hedges outside my pool coming soon, right, Scribbling Scribe? Hehe. We were trying to figure out a way to write about the prompt, and we didn't come up with anything. Then, this morning, I got the idea to use two characters I've had for quite a while. But the time setting has been moved up a hundred years, and there's no covered wagons. They still have the same problem, though.
Also, for those of you who read Desperately Wanting, it won first place in the contest I wrote it for. Yay! And I entered it into two other contests, one of which I've wonthrice before with Monochrome, Notebook, and View To A Kill. The other one's runner sent me a PM on the site, which reads as follows:
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!
I LOVE IT!! I READ THE FIRST TWO CAPTERS AND I COULDN'T STOP READING!! It is so my favorite. Unfortunently I have to wait for the others, but I really do like this one the best. I'm going to call over some friends of mine who could vote for their favorite when the time comes, but I'm sure yours would be in their top three for sure.
If I told you you couldn't join with that little bit of words I would have been lying and should have been sent to hell where I stood. It really is that good..."
Yea! - dances -
Based on the song "Closer" by Better Than Ezra.
And now, my story. Enjoy. Please R&R.
The dim dawn light passed through the curtains, turning light yellow and casting the room in a golden glow as it bounced from the walls. The bedspread had a window pane pattern on it as the yellow light made the bedspread look pale green. Beside him, Elizabeth lay with her head resting peacefully on his shoulder, the cover pulled against the chill in the morning air.
His eyes weren’t even open yet, but he knew the scene well enough to imagine it.
Beyond the window, the first messages of morning were being passed along by the birds who dared to remain through the winter months, the first vehicles could be heard as husbands left for work despite the snow that had fallen the previous night.
And as he lay in bed, he wished those few perfect minutes of morning could last forever, that they were all there was, and all that would ever be.
He opened his eyes slowly, lifting a hand to wipe away the remaining tiredness. The scene around him updated to compensate for the passing winter months. Tomorrow it would do the same.
Every day, the same ritual, every night the same twisted Hell. A never-ending cycle, held together by three words.
She writhed beneath him, her muscles tightening as he drove her crazy with his touch. “Ezra,” she whispered his name, over and over, the intensity behind it building with each repetition of the syllables.
He tried to imagine her as someone else, someone other than who she was, but he couldn’t. All he saw was her. There was no one else he loved that way, and no one he ever could love that way. It tortured him that she was his Only One.
Ezra closed his eyes again, and said a silent prayer, another part of the ritual. The same prayer every day: “Please don’t let anyone find out. Let us stay forever in this secrecy.”
Carefully, he placed Elizabeth’s head on the pillow and sat up. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and looked over his shoulder at her. She was three months along, but it seemed as if only three weeks had passed.
As he laid a hand on her stomach, he felt for movement. Elizabeth had said that the baby wouldn’t move for a few more weeks, but he was always hopeful for any type of movement, whether it was intentional or not.
He pulled the cover over her again and stood, stretching. Then he left the bedroom and walked down the hallway. Light from the rooms off the hallway shone through the doorways, casting shadows on the walls that differed every day.
His breathing became labored, quickly following hers. Her back arched as her body stiffened, and she pulled his mouth to hers again to muffle both their cries. No one could know, and the proximity of the other rooms of the house heightened their need for silence.
He could barely move, barely focus on kissing her. How strange that she could be the only one to make him feel this way.
At the far end of the hall, Ezra passed into a small room, already adorned with a crib and other baby furniture. The walls had been painted pale blue by the couple who had owned the house before Elizabeth had fallen in love with it. They had been expecting a baby boy, but couldn’t stand to live in the house any longer after it died.
Ezra reflected on the way the couple had put the house up for sale. Elizabeth hadn’t been pregnant then, and neither of them were even planning on having a child together. But Elizabeth had loved the house, so they had bought it.
They had never gotten around to painting the room, and when Elizabeth found out she was pregnant, they decided to keep the color, just in case the baby was male.
He held her close, his strong arms wrapped tightly around her, keeping her his secret. “What do we do now?” he asked in a whisper.
“We can’t tell,” she replied, breathless from the night’s activities.
“What if someone finds out?”
She curled up in his arms. “Mom and Dad are dead,” she said. “They can’t find us.”
“What about Aunt Lucy?”
“If someone finds out, lie. It’s all right. We’re twins; we’re allowed to spend time together.”
“Like this?”
She pulled out of his arms and propped herself up on her elbows. Staring in his eyes, she said, “Ezra, I love you. If it means being with you, then I will lie.”
Being with her still caused him stress. Every time they went out together, holding hands or kissing, he wondered if someone would realize their blood relation. They had the same hair, the same eyes, the same facial structure. Had they been the same gender, they would have been identical.
Yet no one had ever said anything. Their aunt Lucy never noticed anything while they stayed with her after their parents died. Their uncle Frank could have cared less. Strangers could never know more than what they saw.
Ezra realized he was pacing and took a seat in the pale wooden rocking chair in the room.
Elizabeth was the only person he could turn to after the passing on their parents, and the time they spent together developed in a relationship that had been forbidden for centuries. Oftentimes, he found himself blaming his parents for what happened between he and Elizabeth, but he knew they had no part in the forming of the relationship.
“Where are we going to go?” he asked.
“Somewhere no one knows us.”
He stared at her, still propped on her elbows. He could still feel her touch, and through all the controversy of the relationship, he knew they would be able to stay that close. Whether it was as lovers or as brother and sister remained to be seen.
They both knew the risks of having a child together: The medical problems that could arise, the way the child would be raised by both a mother and father and an aunt and uncle. It would ask questions, it would be confused, it would probably be tormented at school.
And yet, it would change both their lives. It would be a new human, created by the bond between Ezra and Elizabeth. The result of their love, and the proof that they could survive in their relationship.
With one last look around the room, Ezra stood and left. He crawled back into bed with Elizabeth and pushed fallen hair out of her face. The lie was one all right to live, if it meant being with her.
Oh, and the fact that Ezra's named Ezra has nothing to do with the fact that this story is based on a song by the band Better Than Ezra. His name came before I realized the song matched the plot. He came before I even knew more than one song by Better Than Ezra (first song I knew by themwas "A Lifetime," which is a sad song).
So now, I've got a story about two Better Than Ezra songs: Desperately Wanting and Closer...Oh, boy.