Copyright © Maja WroĊska
http://creativewriting.ie/writing-prompts/
There is a room. A room that is held dearly in the heart of
one man. It is the room he fell in love. A room that his heart was broken. It
is a room filled to the brim with memories, so much so he cannot enter the room
anymore as they seem to suffocate him. He remembers her and the times they
shared. Two beautiful people sharing beautiful times. They loved with the
intensity likened to addiction. Though this love was never meant to last.
Something created with such passion is destined to fail. They both knew this,
but it never mattered to them. The day of their separating was something far
off; a dull light in the distance.
He was an artist by trade. He
would sit alone for long hours creating his masterpieces. This did not pay very
well and he was forced into the commercial aspect of art. He found a job
painting umbrella’s for the wealthy. The kind of people who have too much money
and always want something unique. He hated them, but they earned him enough
money to live. It was through this he met her. She entered his life in the same
way she left; a flurry of dramatic tendencies and whimsical ideas.
She had heard about his
umbrella’s through a friend and wanted one for herself. She was always wearing
the latest fashion, and a one of a kind umbrella would be a source for envy
among her peers. She knew she had to attain one no matter what the cost, what
she did not bank on was falling in love with the artist.
He was working on another order
when she entered the room. Without knocking, rich people seldom knocked he had
found. He carried on painting, he could hear her behind him, but she could
wait, he was almost finished on this section. Turning round he let out an
almost inaudible gasp. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her
eyes were a deep blue and so alive. A perfect mouth and the tiniest hint of a
nose. He stood staring at her, she was a true vision, her bright red coat
nipped in at the waist enhancing her perfect hourglass figure. She was an
artists dream. Gathering his composure he quickly took her order. It was a
complex pattern, and he was swamped with orders already, but he knew he
couldn’t resist her. He would do his best work for her. After she left the room
there was a lingering scent of her perfume and her face was etched into his mind.
He spent the next week working on
his orders, but he could not get her image out of his mind. He was considering
calling her in for another discussion of what she wanted, he needed to see her
again. Picking up the phone his heart beat furiously, but he had to do this, if
only to make sure she was real. A quick phone call later and he had set up the
meeting. No turning back now.
Once again she entered the room
without knocking and sat down. Her wide eyes blinking furiously with
impatience. He offered her a drink and she declined stating she was on a diet.
Those rich people and their obsession with their weight. He began asking
questions of what she wanted, he already knew the answers, but just the sound
of her voice sent heavenly tingles throughout his body. As he began to sketch
out ideas, she looked round the room. Noticing a half finished painting she
questioned him about it. Telling him of her love of art and artists. He saw
that she was softening to him, seeing him in a new light. There was hope. He
was attending an opening of a gallery that night, and without thinking invited
her along. She immediately agreed and he could not stop the smile at the
thought of spending a night with her.
The meeting ended on a good note, with him promising to pick her up from
her flat later that afternoon.
This was the night their love
began. She had a soft spot for artists. Their creative minds were fascinating
to her, a welcome change from the discussions of politics and fashion she
usually was privy to. His love of art radiated out of him in waves and drew her
to him like a magnet. She could feel the pull even after she had been home in
bed for hours. He felt the same. The night could not have been any more perfect
for him.
She began to visit his shop every
day with excuses of just passing by and checking up on her order. He loved the
way she popped in with coffees for him and often would invite her to sit with
him while he painted. They spend hours each day just talking about the weather.
With her no topic of conversation was dull. After this pattern had continued
for several weeks, he plucked up the courage to ask her on a date. Nothing too
fancy, just a drink at a local pub after work. She agreed and his heart began
to feel like it would explode with excitement.
They had been in the pub for
several hours and the steady stream of alcohol had given him a sense of
courage. She was sat next to him, their bodies just touching. He leaned over
and kissed her cheek, testing the waters. She looked deep into his eyes and pulled
him in closer, kissing him deeply. He responded with enthusiasm and they soon
left the public eye.
The morning sun filtered through
the cheap blinds, greeting the lovers with the promise of a new day. They did
not want the night to be over, the magical night where two souls combined. A
tangle of bed sheets and whispered declarations of love that would last
forever. Morning had come and with it brought the unavoidable call of real
life. Their relationship could not exist in daylight.
For three months they spent
daylight hours separate and the setting of the sun found them reunite. Sharing
their love in a heady mix of sex and wine. It was beautiful. It was secret.
Life tends to ruin the good
things we have, and this was true of their love. He began to get jealous of her
male friends, he wanted more. He wanted to be seen with her in daylight. She
liked the secrecy, did not want to explain to her peers that she had fallen in
love with a penniless artist.
The nights turned from whispers
of love to constant questioning of their seriousness. She was beginning to grow
bored of him; she had met a man who she considered husband material. Her
dalliance with the artist was over.
She couldn’t tell him to his face
and one morning he found a letter waiting for him on his desk. A letter that
broke his heart. She no longer wanted him, she had met someone else. She had
told him to find someone else, someone who could be open about their
relationship. He knew he would never see her again. He had never been invited
into her world, and because of this he knew nothing about it.
He spent every waking minute in
his shop creating beautiful umbrellas in memory of her. The floor was littered
with constant reminders of her beauty. He could not work here anymore. He
needed a new life, a new city. He would not sell the shop though. He would keep
it as a painful reminder of the love that he lost. It was the best and the
worst three months of his life. He would never forget her and he hoped she
thought about him too. This love was never meant to last.
