The River

This is my short story written for the Valentines Day competition. The story portrays that looks aren't everything, and sometimes the personality of an individual shines more.

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1. Short Story

She was beautiful. Her hair was silky and red, and mine was not. Her eyes were framed with lashes thick and full, fluttering as she spoke, and mine were not. Her skin was pale and cheeks were roses, and mine were not. Of course, he only cared for her beauty. Her beauty was her only claim, and by God she used it well, capturing him with her spell. I gazed out into the gardens from my window, saddened by seeing him belonging to her. I sighed deeply, knowing fully that I should not look upon what can never be mine. My heart quickened as my eyes found his. For a mere second he gazed, and I turned and stumbled upon the hem of my dress. My cheeks became blotchy due to the embarrassment of my act, far from the shade of delicate roses that she maintained.

 

He was alone. I saw him slouching beside the river whilst I carried out my routine cleaning regime. I gazed for a while, forgetting all to well of my task. My hand slowly rose and rested upon the cold glass pane, as my mind entered the phase of limbo. Immediately I thought I must step forward and comfort him, as he was surely in a mood of unrest. Yet I also found myself challenging those thoughts. What must he think of a tired, lonely girl of the likes of myself? His need was of a beautiful, clever woman who would remain by his side. This was clearly something I was unable to deliver, something I was unable to ever deliver.

I found my feet began moving towards the direction of the river, but my mind became panicked and startled. Should I go to him? Would he show appreciation?Taking a deep breath I turned so I could see the shadows of my home. My mother had left me this home, a gesture of keeping me happy. The thought made me sad, knowing that I had ended up far from what she had dreamed. Perhaps I could do the impossible, and comfort him, as this could bring some happiness towards my life. I turned my eyes back towards the river, and the thought of my mother provided me with the confidence of stumbling towards him.

 

His saddened, beautiful face changed into an expression of surprise, yet he smiled in a welcoming fashion and gestured for me to sit beside him. I did as I was told, conscious of every move, every breath I was taking so I would not create a fool of myself. My mouth parted slightly so I could speak, yet I found there was no voice to make myself heard. I tried again, and was successful in asking him why he was upset. He looked up towards the sky before responding, informing me of how his alliance with the beautiful witch had been broken. My words of comfort appeared to be working effectively, however nervous and uncomfortable they may have sounded. He looked directly at me, and smiled, and I was happy for seeing that smile.

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