Todays story comes from lastbadger's words. Mystic Reconciliation Smoke.
It's still rough but I wanted to post it anyway. I hope you enjoy.
The Girl in the Ukrainian Army Jacket
She appeared like a vision. Thought I never knew her name, Ive never forgotten the girl in the Ukrainian Army jacket.
From the moment I laid eyes on her I was intoxicated by her beauty. She strolled through the bookstore stopping only briefly to read a book jacket that caught her eye. Locks of red hair flowed down her back. Her skin was pale, delicate, with just a hint of freckles. Long slender fingers flipped through a stack of old LPs with absent ease. Her beauty affected everyone who looked upon her.
Who was this creature before us and where did she get that jacket? She seemed to be part mystic, part hippy. Gold and silver medals hung from the left breast side of the jacket along with ribbons of every color. Her faded jeans were a mix of ancient symbolisms and peace signs. Some were drawn on in pen while others were stitched. A trail of tiny daisies started at her right hip and cascaded down leg in a haphazard fashion. At the cuff the flower accumulated as if that had simply fallen from her pocket.
She looked up and our eyes met for an all to brief moment. She smiled a crooked smile that made her look even more exquisite than she was only seconds ago. In that moment where her brilliant green eye locked with mine she broke my heart.
I saw her hidden pain and suffering. A wave of sorrow washed over me as I experienced the world through her eyes and watched her fall. She was alone in a sea of mortality. It was a fate that she would never be able to come to complete reconciliation with.
Then, as if she realized she had revealed too much, she left the store. I watched her through the store window as she crossed the street. She leaned against the bus stop sign and lit a cigarette. A thin trail of smoke
Off in the distance church bells rang, marking the new hour. As the cross town bus came to a stop I thought I saw her brushing away a tear. She took one last draw of her cigarette and exhaled the smoke. She raised her hand to wave goodbye to me.
The bus pulled away and just as quickly as she entered my life, she was gone. I never knew her name or heard the sound of her voice. A great many years have passed since that day in the bookstore. Even now I cant help but look for her when I visit that store.
She lives now only in the memory of an old man. Though my mind may fail me from time to time, she is always there. My mystery women, my fallen angel.
It's still rough but I wanted to post it anyway. I hope you enjoy.
The Girl in the Ukrainian Army Jacket
She appeared like a vision. Thought I never knew her name, Ive never forgotten the girl in the Ukrainian Army jacket.
From the moment I laid eyes on her I was intoxicated by her beauty. She strolled through the bookstore stopping only briefly to read a book jacket that caught her eye. Locks of red hair flowed down her back. Her skin was pale, delicate, with just a hint of freckles. Long slender fingers flipped through a stack of old LPs with absent ease. Her beauty affected everyone who looked upon her.
Who was this creature before us and where did she get that jacket? She seemed to be part mystic, part hippy. Gold and silver medals hung from the left breast side of the jacket along with ribbons of every color. Her faded jeans were a mix of ancient symbolisms and peace signs. Some were drawn on in pen while others were stitched. A trail of tiny daisies started at her right hip and cascaded down leg in a haphazard fashion. At the cuff the flower accumulated as if that had simply fallen from her pocket.
She looked up and our eyes met for an all to brief moment. She smiled a crooked smile that made her look even more exquisite than she was only seconds ago. In that moment where her brilliant green eye locked with mine she broke my heart.
I saw her hidden pain and suffering. A wave of sorrow washed over me as I experienced the world through her eyes and watched her fall. She was alone in a sea of mortality. It was a fate that she would never be able to come to complete reconciliation with.
Then, as if she realized she had revealed too much, she left the store. I watched her through the store window as she crossed the street. She leaned against the bus stop sign and lit a cigarette. A thin trail of smoke
Off in the distance church bells rang, marking the new hour. As the cross town bus came to a stop I thought I saw her brushing away a tear. She took one last draw of her cigarette and exhaled the smoke. She raised her hand to wave goodbye to me.
The bus pulled away and just as quickly as she entered my life, she was gone. I never knew her name or heard the sound of her voice. A great many years have passed since that day in the bookstore. Even now I cant help but look for her when I visit that store.
She lives now only in the memory of an old man. Though my mind may fail me from time to time, she is always there. My mystery women, my fallen angel.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
wouldn't it be cool to have an international SG hookup, there are already a few Aussie SGer's going