Hello, all. While this is my first story here, this isn't my first time writing. I just seem to have a very hard time coming up with shorts rather than full-fledged novels...that I never finish (Oy!). Be forewarned, I tend to write in dialect (not sure what dialect, but there you go), so I apologize beforehand for any strain this may cause any of you. I'm not sure whether I will create a full story to go with this, but I'm not saying I won't. Two things I'd like to note: Her name is pronounced like "Delilah", but without the second "l" (Dee-LIE-uh), and his name is pronouced Nar-fill-ee-us.
Be so kind as to review. Praise (of course) is always welcomed for the budding ego. Constructive criticism (grammar, spelling, one of those, "why didn't I catch that myself?" kind of things, etc.) is also greatly appreciated. Flames or Nasty Slurs will simply go to feed my muse's fire. And possibly to light her cigarettes. (She's a very bad influence.)
On with the show. I've taken up too much of your time already. Merci!
by Brandy Ybarra
Deliah stood on the cliffs overlooking her ocean home, the salty sea-breeze blowing back her sandy hair and azure dress. She stared out at the ocean, eyes not truly seeing, remembering the feel of the sea as she stood on her father's ship, silent and still as a figurehead, just savoring the precious moments with her two greatest treasures: the sea and her father's company. Moments never to be repeated. So engrossed was she in her thoughts that she did not hear the approaching footsteps behind her.
"You should come in. You'll catch your death of cold M'dam," an oily voice said in mock concern. "And no one wants that."
Of course, she thought bitterly, who else would she send. "Narphilius," she said, giving his name as her only acknowledgment that she knew he was there.
"Aun' El won' be 'appy," he continued, dropping the oily, high-class manner, "if you catch cold-death. She always esspects yours t'be much grander." He added, then, voice dripping with sarcasm, "In accordance wit' the prophecy."
"Well, Aunt Ellian can stuff her prophecy right up her arse, for all I care," was Deliah's reply. She smiled inwardly at her cousin's look of shock; she had learned a good many words worse than that in her time. She was the daughter of a sea-captain and had been on many a ship with sailors who did not care to modify their language for anyone. "Besides, I'm not frail and delicate enough, yet, to die of the cold. Not that she's helping that much, either."
"Tha's as maybe, ye still shou'nna be out here." He scoffed, "An' look, ye go' bleedin' starflyers in your 'air." He pulled one out with the tips of his fingers, trying his hardest to not actually touch it. "At least keep yeself somewhat presen'able while your out–" he cringed, as though the very next thought was disgusting in itself "–enjoyin' nature." He looked at the starflyer with mild disgust and moved his hand toward Deliah, silently asking her to take the offending creature.
She smiled thinly. "What's wrong, Narphilius? Don't you like starflyers?" she asked, taking it and tossing it in his face. He gasped and recoiled, throwing his arms in front of his face to block the "attack", but the little starflyer simply wheeled around and spun out to the ocean. "They don't bite, you know," Deliah chided, laughing at his reaction. "They don't do much of anything, really."
Narphilius straightened up at the sound of her laughter, a soft blush creeping up his pallid cheeks. Desperate to change the subject, he asked, "Why must you stay 'ere an' stare at tha'...barren waste?" He watched the water with nothing short of revulsion.
"The ocean is not a 'barren waste'!" she exclaimed. "The sea is very much alive. It is constantly changing and growing, dying and being reborn." She saw the look of skepticism on his face, and sighed. "One born by the sea knows of such things. We sense it. It's in our blood. Anyway, we don't like leaving it for very long. One gets a lonely longing if one is gone for too long. It's one intangible you shall never understand, Narphilius."
"Well, Mina Intangible, there is one thin' I do understan'. An' tha's tha' Aun' El's gonna tan me 'ide if you don' come in now!" His face was set in frustration, yet his eyes held a slightly pleading gleam in them. Ellian always was a stickler for orders.
"Very well," she said, sighing in defeat, "I'll come." Narphilius nodded and turned back down the road heading to Aunt Ellian's home. Deliah looked once more out at the waves crashing against the shore and the stars glittering off the water.
"Farahan, sea life. Farahan."
At those words, a wind stirred from behind, blowing out to sea and a few starflyers flew through her hair. The sea was calling for her to come back, to return to the life she once knew. And, someday, she would.