Welcome to the Dimensions Forums forums.
You are currently viewing our boards as a guest which gives you limited access to view most discussions and access our other features. By joining our free community you will have access to post topics, communicate privately with other members (PM), respond to polls, upload content and access many other special features. Registration is fast, simple and absolutely free so please, join our community today!
If you have any problems with the registration process or your account login, please contact contact us.
||Thread Tools||Display Modes|
|09-03-2008, 11:36 AM||#27|
Join Date: Feb 2007
Location: Greater Manchester
I think it's a beautifully written piece of literature. The characters are well developed and there's a genuine dexterity to the language you employ and the ideas you portray. Top stuff! Looking forward to the next installment.
Thoughts without content are empty, intuitions without concepts are blind...The understanding can intuit nothing, the senses can think nothing. Only through their union can knowledge arise.Immanuel Kant (1724 - 1804)
|01-31-2009, 12:57 PM||#28|
Join Date: Apr 2008
You know, from here…today…remembering that moment, a little of the feeling of it still comes back to me, even now. I breathe in – and my, what a deep breath I can take now – and feel the warmth, the stillness of us three, lying back and soaking in the sheer presence of each other. Like being safe again. Forever.
I’m not going to act like you’re an idiot. I don’t expect you to think everything was all roses from then on. But then again…you didn’t come into my story to go away with a sad ending. So I’ll do you a deal; I’ll just mention the good parts. Leave the rest for another day, or never to come out at all.
The days after that flew by, as did the happiness. Martha and I, at some points, matched each other pound for pound when we compared our turns in the bathroom with the long mirror. Bliss, herself…my god. Or, to be accurate, my goddess.
I looked at her then, and now, and looked back…and, well. You know what I think? What I really think? I’m almost certain of it. When you truly love someone, it truly, truly isn’t looks that count. My Bliss, my joy and comfort, she could have been any shape – tall or short, big or small – and still I’d love her as passionately as ever. That’s how you know that you love them; when you forget about the rest, and focus on the soul of them.
We were never short of money; I quickly found a niche that well-suited me, and gave me what my work was worth. Bliss was in and out of her work with all the gusto she could muster; a true genius, putting her all into every idea, getting the best out of her staff. As we grew together, in body and mind, she blossomed; she was commander, leader, inspiration to all she met.
Martha was among them. On the day that she finally passed the first milestone she’d set – and it was a big one, I can tell you that much – she’d landed her dream job and been seeing the man she is now happily wedded to for a month. I’d never seen her so happy. I’d never had the privilege
But what of life outside our meagre circles? I’m not going to blow things up. Bliss was certainly no Celebrity Chef; she did things well, and was appreciated for that, and that was how she stayed. She maintained that the way her Father got word around was through customers, not TV or Magazines…and, as usual, she was exactly right. It was around the time that I’d convinced a few former colleagues from my starting days in the business that a certain small business might have some profit in a couple of years time that Bliss officially announced to her always-loyal staff the arrival of a chain of Restaurant’s around the city, and in a few years…even further. We could do it.
The celebration was spectacular…and I finally got to meet her father! A brilliant man, a great bear of a man, never without a smile in his face and a drink in one hand. He took one look at me, with the added girth I’d accumulated over the years, and Bliss with an amiable arm on my shoulder…and gave us a heartfelt blessing.
It was a year later that we slipped the rings upon each other’s fingers, and half a year since we had reached what we both were searching for. I remember her, in that beautiful ice-satin outfit that she’d hand-picked, wrapped around her figure; not media-stick-thin, as you’d expect, but with the natural curves that she wanted to keep still blossoming. We had an outdoor ceremony, mostly because we found it more naturalistic; but also because I loved the cool outdoors in favour of the stuffy Church.
And now, now I sit here…on Vacation in the sun, and relaxing outside a modest little beach-house by the beach. Martha and her ol’ man went out for a quiet stroll in the early morning, but I decided to stay and sample the heat, sip a cool drink, dig into a good book; enjoy relaxing before the work period starts up again. I love just sitting here, dressed in just a simple shirt, shorts and sandals, not caring how I look or who looks at me. I love the place I’m at, this moment, and I love where I’ll be next.
And I love Bliss. I can see her now, strolling out from the house to the chair next to me, in a cool yellow sundress and straw hat that can’t contain her frizzy brown-black curls. This first trimester, she’s put on a few pounds, which the dress doesn’t even try to hide; but she doesn’t worry. I don’t worry, either; it’s like watching a painting come into being on the canvass, seeing her face grow rosier and her figure fuller with her growth. She likes it, I like it; what does anyone else matter?
How’s The Sun? she asks, relaxation dripping from her voice as I push her chair into a reclining position.
I Can Deal With It. How About You? Protected? I pick up the sunscreen bottle. …Or Do You Need A Little Help, Ma’am?
I reach out a tender finger that runs around her already bronze-tanned cheek, as her left arm caresses my back. She giggles.
You Rub My Cheeks, Buster…(her hand slides downwards)…I’ll Rub Yours.
Now That Sounds Like A Plan.
Her laughter…enchanting as ever.
We could spend a lot of our days this way. We already have; we probably will do again. The rest of them, maybe. But then nothing would get done.
So I’m afraid that, barring any prophetic visions, I must draw the story to a close from here. Know that things are good for us…that they were good before…they’ll be good again.
Oh, and the Happy Ending?