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| That Day | |
| By sufiyaan03 | ||||
| 16 May 2006 | ||||
hi, have a read and tell me what you think. thanksI often travelled to my parent’s cottage as a teenage boy, loving the mystery and outstanding picturesque beauty of the countryside. One particular occasion I will never forget, because it was the time I met Donna, a name that would be of significance for me for the rest of my life. On that autumn afternoon I can still remember walking out onto those muddy footpaths leading away from the town of Bowness, shivering but feeling a comforting warmth on the back of my neck as the sun began to bully away the frosty air. A rainbow illuminated the blue sky like stars in the night, and scattered, puffy, white like cotton clouds began to fill it. I remember the day so well. It must have been around midday when I saw her, her smile as inviting as the clear water of Lake Windermere. Her face was delicate and pale, unblemished yet not without character. It was like no other I had seen, or for that matter, have seen since. She was leaning against the wall, staring at nothing, as if she had been put there for me to find, my treasure amongst the disarray of overgrown grass and broken fencing that stood around me. It must have been here who started speaking first. There was no way I would have even thought of introducing myself to such a girl, knocked back countless amount of times by the prettier girls back at home. Whatever she said, I can’t recall, but it had something to do with the smell of the countryside, or some general observation about the weather. As we spoke I studied her from head to toe, forcing my mind to keep her in my memory, because the thought of ever seeing someone like her again was one I would have readily entertained. Her name was Donna, and Donna’s black jacket merged with her long, shiny black hair. Her skin was pale and smooth, making her eyes an electric blue; it made them seem watchful and sharp, sardonic in a way. Donna and I talked, awkwardly at first, and then more naturally, about friends and the future. She was interested in music and played the piano, although she felt shy about playing to people. We sat down on the fields in what turned out to be one of those crisp, egg-yellow afternoons of late August, both hungry but neither of us wanting to leave the comfort of each others voice. In the past I had tended not to socialise with girls, trying it on now and again when I was feeling cheeky. This time it was surreal: Donna was outstanding, making me feel energised and excited to be alive, thankful for what I had. She touched my face, tracing the outline of my forehead to my nose before resting it on my lips for what seemed like a long time. We linked arms and walked together, planning towards her house, but not really caring where we ended up. The sun was setting now, producing a sky raged with red, purple and yellow, ripped through the middle by a trail from an aeroplane. The hill seemed less steep in the midst of laughing and joking, and the road quieter. I was supposed to be home an hour ago, but there way no way I was going to let time come between the two of us. Stopping at the bridge to watch and hear the trains, I she brushed her fingers against mine, and then rested them there, before gently clasping my hand in a gentle embrace. The train was forcing through the landscape, the repetition of the wheels mesmerising and comforting. Her cottage was similar to my own, whitewashed, semi-detached with small rooms. I was glad to see that it was empty, with nobody to disturb our perfect day together. The walls were a deep red, with maroon seat covers to match. As she removed her jacket, all I could stare at were those supple breasts, her body so inviting yet still out of bounds. There was plenty of wine in the kitchen, and I helped myself to a few glasses whilst Donna got changed upstairs. I listened attentively to the bumps and scraps coming from the room above me, wondering if she was nervous and wondering exactly what she was thinking, exactly what she wanted from the evening. When she returned we made our way out into her garden, drinks in hand and our attentions completely on one another. It was an extremely clear, cold night, the stars silver rivets on a sheet of black velvet. We sat down on a nearby wall, and leaning back, I took notice to the moon, seeing how crisp and serene the mountain sky looked. I could distinguish the Milky Way; it was easy to see, looking as though someone had spilt glitter on a piece of black paper, and she seemed impressed by my knowledge of such things, although astrology didn’t interest her. For the first time I looked at Donna really closely, and she seemed depressingly pretty. Too pretty for me anyway. I noticed how her teeth seemed smaller than I had remembered, how her needle-sharp eyes were more tender. Her hair looked amazingly soft. Each individual hair was silk fine, so fine I realised I had an overwhelming desire to touch it. I stared at her for what felt like five minutes, without saying anything, both of us listening to the rumbling of the night. I studies her, concentrating on the pores of her skin, the mechanical way her eyelids opened and closed like fishes’ mouths; the fur, like cornfields on the back of her neck. Pretending to be charmingly tipsy in the dim, badly lit, misty street, I fell into her arms and we kissed. Touching Donna’s jaw line and soft cheek however made me feel like I was attending to something extremely delicate, and I felt like I had the power to split through her like an eggshell if I wasn’t careful with her. Returning into the lounge, through the hallway and past the kitchen, holding hands, I felt excited and afraid. I wondered how she felt; whether she anticipated we would reach this point, whatever this point was. Sitting on the couch we kissed again, slowly at first but then with more passion, and before I knew it I was ripping off her blouse uncontrollably, pinning her arms to the ground as we rolled onto the floor. I kissed her neck, the music sounding louder with every second. She was saying something but I wasn’t listening to her, too eager to get on with what I had wanted all afternoon. I was in control, no longer apprehensive about whether she would want me or not, like that stupid little boy of earlier today. She had invited me back and kissed me, and so she had no excuse to make excuses now. It was too late for her. Tearing at her pants gave me an adrenaline rush like nothing else could, and the grandfather clock in the hallway began to strike ten o’clock as I began my conquest. The chimes were in time with our lovemaking, forceful yet tender, her moans like a birdsong, sweet and inviting. Her arms waved everywhere, scratching my forehead and cheeks, but this only emphasised her tearing desire for my love. She wanted me and now she was getting me. All of me. I watched her intensely as she stared straight back into my eyes, her beautiful smile reduced to a quivering wreck of fear and lust, her eyes unable to express her anguish and excitement. Upon finishing I sat up to discover crimson thighs, and looked proudly at the scattered stains on the bottom of my t-shirt, a mixture of blood and tears. After that I remember very little. I stood up and quickly dressed, putting my trainers on and leaving without looking back. “How could you take advantage of someone like me?” she softly uttered. “You’re nothing special. Never think you are. You wanted this so don’t give me any bull.” “But to do it to ME! You’re pure evil”. “Being blind makes you no different. You’ve got needs like everyone else. Get over it. I’m sure you enjoyed some of it. I’m late. See you later” “Bastard!” I have an image of her lying on her back, sobbing and yelling, yet I never turned to see her face. I walked out into the beautiful night, grinning and shaking, the adrenaline still pumping through my veins. Although it was cold, I felt warm with alcohol and satisfaction, like I was strolling past a cold fire. The lampposts lightened up the next few streets, and before long I was home again. As I lay in my cold bed, waiting for nothing, the deafening cacophony of silence pierced through the air. The comforting sound of the lake could be heard from my room, and I found it no struggle to get to sleep on that very best of nights. I probably would not see Donna again, but if I did, she wouldn’t even know I was there.
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