Today’s challenge is a little different. I decided to combine all of my previous prompts and write something romantic instead of dark! See if you can find all of my previous prompts: Holding hands, cherish, promises, candlelit, lifetime, heart, roses, kiss, chocolate, love, romance.
Lionel extended his hand over the candlelit table top, lavishly spread with chocolates and roses, and took Wendy’s hand. She shivered in anticipation as she met his loving gaze.
“Wendy, my love,” Lionel started, then hesitated. His heart thundered in his chest and he swallowed nervously. “We’ve been together for two years now…”
Wendy nodded, silently encouraging him. Her plunging red dress, the most expensive garment in her wardrobe, was out on its debut. Her hair was freshly washed and coifed, her make-up impeccable, and she’d even visited a manicurist for the first time in her life. After all, this was the most important night of her life. She needed a perfect canvas to present to her man.
“And in those two years we’ve become extraordinarily close…”
She nodded again. Lionel briefly squeezed her hand.
“I guess what I mean to say is, that if you’ll have me, I promise to give you a lifetime of happiness. I will cherish each and every moment with you. Wendy, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”
Wendy swallowed the girlish squeal threatening to escape her throat as Lionel produced a small plain black box and presented it to her. She gingerly opened it – and there, nestled on the satin, was an enormous diamond engagement ring.
What else could she say to an evening filled with romance?
“Of course I’ll marry you,” she said to Lionel. They sealed the bond with a kiss.
Betsy lifted the candle on its tray higher, letting its light wash over the cavern. Beside her, Jack squinted in the gloom as the dust swirled and settled. Only a few moments ago they had been squashed together in an alcove, taking shelter as the old mine collapsed. Betsy had burnt her hand sheltering the candle, but she didn’t cry. Big girls don’t cry: besides, it was her idea to explore the old mine. Jack had wanted to play Cowboys and Indians down by the creek again.
“Show me your hand,” Jack said, turning to her. Betsy obliged, and Jack tore off the bottom of his stripey T-shirt to gently wrap the burn.
“There’s no way out, I don’t think,” Betsy whimpered. The candle has already burnt most of the way down as they were exploring. They only had a few minutes of candlelight left – if that.
“Someone will come for us,” Jack said, putting his arm around her in a manner that would normally be considered overly familiar. They were, after all, next-door neighbours and playful rivals. How else were you meant to treat the boy and girl next door?
“No one knows we’re here,” Betsy said. She watched as the light flickered over Jack’s face. “We’re not supposed to come here.”
“I’ll look after you,” Jack said.
“Do you promise?” she asked in a small voice.
“Yes, I promise,” he answered, as the light guttered and went out, plunging them into darkness as the earth swallowed them whole.
“I don’t know why you keep calling me heartless,” Sir said. “I have a heart. It’s right there on my desk.”
A shot of fear lanced down Marjorie’s spine. Her knees knocked together so hard she was surprised the impeccably dressed man behind the large oak desk didn’t hear. She mentally kicked herself. Of course he wouldn’t respond well to that particular insult: rumour had it Sir’s incredible charisma and influential personality had been gained only by removing said heart in a deal made with the Devil.
“In fact,” Sir said patiently with a deceiving smile, “I’ve had it for quite some time.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean…”
“No, of course not.” Sir waved his hand, removing a knife from the drawer in his desk. “But you seem to know a lot about how people should feel on particular issues. Maybe it’s time I got a new heart.”
This one is a little different. With those prompts I decided to be inspired by Seal’s 1994 hit song ‘Kissed By A Rose’.
There used to be a graying tower alone on the sea.
You became the light on the dark side of me.
Mitch had been alone for thirty years, manning the lighthouse up at Dead Man’s Point every night without fail. Every evening before the sun sank from sight he’d climb the winding staircases – becoming a greater effort as the years wore on – clean the giant mirrors, and lit the fire that reflected and shone as a warning beacon to the ships that passed by – mostly ore ships, and less of them as the years went on (the mines were closing). On foggy nights he stayed awake with hot coffee in a thermos and a blanket, manning the foghorn.
Every night in the blinking light he thought about Katarina.
He’d planted a dozen red rose bushes for her birthday the year she disappeared. He tended to the bushes every morning, just as the sun came up and before he went to bed. There was only one bush left now – the others had succumbed to the cold and the wind, the loneliness of the tall peak and its single grey tower.
The rumours at the small village he visited monthly for supplies sometimes reached his ears. The wailing wind that spread through the rocky tors was the final scream of a woman who had thrown herself off the high cliffs, unable to take the isolation any more. Some people thought she’d turned into a seagull for the freedom she longed for and was denied. Some people whispered that Mitch was responsible for her disappearance.
It should have been called Dead Woman’s Point.
PS – I like this one so much I might turn it into a whole story one day.
Lissa Bilyk 