AN : Another piece of Romance story. Hope everyone's fond of this one!
The Full Course of Venomous Love
The dawn had been new to me today. The mighty ball of flames lit up the garden in front of my tiny house. The shadows, who previously conquer the night, now hid like a lonely mice below the bed. Waking up from the veil of sleeping I took my bravery to stand up and face the door. I grabbed the door handle and turned it clockwise. Lifting my weary eyes I saw the empty chairs with a small cold metal table in the middle. A familiar golden cup on it, resting peacefully. I remembered, the good times of the sweet morning that I could now hardly remember.
Just like a dream that had just turned to dust...
His face, his smile, his voice, him. He greeted me every morning with a smile on his baby soft white skin and a cup of jasmine tea on the table. Dusty newspapers on hand, telling me to sit down. Now he was nowhere on earth to be found. Painful memories that I abhor, despite, hate. They keep replaying on my mind, now that they are tyrant, merciless, and killing me mentally as every bit per second it was replayed a billion times.
Dusting my white flowery sunny dress I sat on the chair I used to sat every single morning. Then I glance at the window, now dusty and translucent. The morning sun don't lend me warmth anymore. Instead it feels so real that it gave me chills.
Ah, a breeze passed by. I had forgotten the tingling sound of the hanged bell outside my door. He made it for me and hung it there, telling me to keep it. It is a good luck charm he said. "You'll need it," he would add.
He always wear that royal rose scented perfume, which brings soothing feeling everywhere he went. It is so pleasant that I feel the need to savor it once more. I wonder why though, Roses are so beautiful and alluring. Yet it delivers pain for those who dares to touch them. As red as blood, as sharp as a double-edged blade, as innocent as a painful tear. I always loved the way he would playfully put a rose on his blonde hair when he was here, living.
Love is toxic, a hidden needle behind a woven cloth...
It was very pleasurable at first and awaits your tragic story in the end. Oh the irony, who would drink a tea if they knew it is poisoned with lethal venom.
AN : And there goes. Personally I don't like romance genre stories but my teacher did. This story is actually what I write on the exam in respond to : Write a piece of writing describing someone that you have a close relationship in the past but the mood should be romantically tragic. Its like once in a blue moon for me browse romance stories so forgive me for my lack of romance elements :1