This is the first piece I wrote that's part of the story I'm writing. this scene, or rather the image of it has been stuck in my head for a very long time, and one night where I couldn't sleep, I got fed up with turning in my bed and was gradually getting unnerved. I sat down, lit up the light and decided to put into words this scene I had in mind... It was already almost noon when I finished this, and I felt pleasantly empty after this, and slept verrrrry well afterwards ^___^
Notes :
- There are words that my automatic orthography corrector show me as inexistent, though I had seen them several times in books or articles.... and "some" online dictionaries have them registered...
- I'm not even sure the title is right ^^; but i wanted it that way, so I left it even though I don't know if it's correct English *sigh*
- French and English seem to have differences concerning typology, presentation, punctuation rules.. I tried to respect the English ones by what I had remarked in my readings
========= the give away =========
She was entranced. His eyes were closed, all of him was in offering. A pair of hands was cupping up his face. The woman wasn't hurrying, but merely brushing up the surface of his skin with her lips. She saw the handsome face shiver from expectation. It was a sensual scene, but the most remarkable part of it was the contrast of her cold stare on him, set up close to his serene expression. He was the very image of loving devotion, a prisoner of love...she was the caricature of a dictator, uncompassionately reigning over him.
She knew it was unseeming to observe them like she did, for that was a most intimate scene. But the girl could not find it in herself to look away : she was irrepressibly drawn to it, as if it was of the utmost necessity for her to witness it. She felt like she was in one of these dreams, where you can observe in a detached way as if inexistent, and it seems just natural that your gaze wouldn't budge from the scene, as if it had been the sole purpose of your presence here. It seemed to her that this moment would last forever, that she was stuck between the layers of times, for ever condemned to watch this cruel scene of intimacy, this masquerade of nonreciprocating feelings...this was an unfair game of offering and receiving, with no possible changing of the roles.
She watched his expression, serene yet longing for a touch, slightly tensed at the expectation of it. The woman was still coldly looking at him, his closed eyes showing a firm resolve of daring trust in her, and she looked a bit offended, ready to assault She was playing with him, and he was letting her do so. Her mouth was ever so lightly caressing his forehead, sliding along the line of his nose, pausing above his lips, and this instant seemed to rid all three of them of any breath they had, all waiting, not knowing what to think, as if this decision was to seal their destinies.
Was it the steadiness of her stare that shattered it all? Had she unintentionally thrown uneasiness in the air? The pause became a stop as the woman lifted her face away from his, and ever so slowly, as if knowing she had been there watching them all along, the handsome face turned towards her direction, opening its dazed eyes to lay them upon her.
She was struck awake into reality, and flushing from embarrassment, she turned back to her group of friends, still chatting happily by her side.
'What a fool! What was I doing, staring at them like this, how indecent of me!' she then thought that the most indecent part was actually for them to display their intimacy in public, for they were also seated with their social group. If they hadn't wished to be watched, they shouldn't be indulging in such acts here, in the first place!
To hide the shock and distress of her mind, she engaged in cheerful small talk with the girl sitting across the table, allowing herself to look at the complete opposite direction of them... this way, she could hide her cheeks reddened by both shame and dismay. And as she did so, she knew that he hadn't been fooled though, and her attempt to look unaffected by what she just saw made the truth even more obvious to his sharp eyes. She knew that all too well. She was alarmed, but knew that very awkward frenzy was all the more giving her away every passing second.
The bell rang for them to go to Mass; all parties stood up and strolled across the garden, heading for the Cathedral beyond in their usual buzzy chatting. She went along, following absentmindedly the group of light laughter, of swishing satin gowns.
'Well, now he knows', she commented to herself. 'I'm sure he had already felt it before. However doubt is a luxury he can no longer indulge into'. And as she walked next to her closest friend, she did her best to not look their way, and foolishly, for she was aware it was useless, she placed herself in the' middle of her group, so that the other feminine silhouettes could partly hide her from the couple's sight....if they were to look that way.
Yet, as she passed the tall gate of the cathedral she could not resist the masochistic temptation any longer: she turned her head a little, wondering if he was looking at her, fearing to meet disapproval in his eyes, dreading disgust at her person....but he wasn't, he was simply heading to their own dedicated bench, as if nothing had happened. She thought he looked a bit frowned, but she might have merely imagined it: the restless pounding in her bosom was affecting her logics.
She sighed with relief, but as she did, she also sensed sadness growing inside her, riping the remnants of her bleeding heart. She had wondered how he'd react, but he didn't even look her way.... she had dreaded shock or disgust from him, but far had she been to imagine how being ignored would be just as worse. She shrugged and settled down, but she could not act detached or dignified any longer.
That day, Mass couldn't reach her ears, let alone her heart.
She knew it was unseeming to observe them like she did, for that was a most intimate scene. But the girl could not find it in herself to look away : she was irrepressibly drawn to it, as if it was of the utmost necessity for her to witness it. She felt like she was in one of these dreams, where you can observe in a detached way as if inexistent, and it seems just natural that your gaze wouldn't budge from the scene, as if it had been the sole purpose of your presence here. It seemed to her that this moment would last forever, that she was stuck between the layers of times, for ever condemned to watch this cruel scene of intimacy, this masquerade of nonreciprocating feelings...this was an unfair game of offering and receiving, with no possible changing of the roles.
She watched his expression, serene yet longing for a touch, slightly tensed at the expectation of it. The woman was still coldly looking at him, his closed eyes showing a firm resolve of daring trust in her, and she looked a bit offended, ready to assault She was playing with him, and he was letting her do so. Her mouth was ever so lightly caressing his forehead, sliding along the line of his nose, pausing above his lips, and this instant seemed to rid all three of them of any breath they had, all waiting, not knowing what to think, as if this decision was to seal their destinies.
Was it the steadiness of her stare that shattered it all? Had she unintentionally thrown uneasiness in the air? The pause became a stop as the woman lifted her face away from his, and ever so slowly, as if knowing she had been there watching them all along, the handsome face turned towards her direction, opening its dazed eyes to lay them upon her.
She was struck awake into reality, and flushing from embarrassment, she turned back to her group of friends, still chatting happily by her side.
'What a fool! What was I doing, staring at them like this, how indecent of me!' she then thought that the most indecent part was actually for them to display their intimacy in public, for they were also seated with their social group. If they hadn't wished to be watched, they shouldn't be indulging in such acts here, in the first place!
To hide the shock and distress of her mind, she engaged in cheerful small talk with the girl sitting across the table, allowing herself to look at the complete opposite direction of them... this way, she could hide her cheeks reddened by both shame and dismay. And as she did so, she knew that he hadn't been fooled though, and her attempt to look unaffected by what she just saw made the truth even more obvious to his sharp eyes. She knew that all too well. She was alarmed, but knew that very awkward frenzy was all the more giving her away every passing second.
The bell rang for them to go to Mass; all parties stood up and strolled across the garden, heading for the Cathedral beyond in their usual buzzy chatting. She went along, following absentmindedly the group of light laughter, of swishing satin gowns.
'Well, now he knows', she commented to herself. 'I'm sure he had already felt it before. However doubt is a luxury he can no longer indulge into'. And as she walked next to her closest friend, she did her best to not look their way, and foolishly, for she was aware it was useless, she placed herself in the' middle of her group, so that the other feminine silhouettes could partly hide her from the couple's sight....if they were to look that way.
Yet, as she passed the tall gate of the cathedral she could not resist the masochistic temptation any longer: she turned her head a little, wondering if he was looking at her, fearing to meet disapproval in his eyes, dreading disgust at her person....but he wasn't, he was simply heading to their own dedicated bench, as if nothing had happened. She thought he looked a bit frowned, but she might have merely imagined it: the restless pounding in her bosom was affecting her logics.
She sighed with relief, but as she did, she also sensed sadness growing inside her, riping the remnants of her bleeding heart. She had wondered how he'd react, but he didn't even look her way.... she had dreaded shock or disgust from him, but far had she been to imagine how being ignored would be just as worse. She shrugged and settled down, but she could not act detached or dignified any longer.
That day, Mass couldn't reach her ears, let alone her heart.
Aucun commentaire:
Enregistrer un commentaire