Kiss and Tales A Romantic Collection Read online

  A squirrel hopped up onto the screen in front of my face. It sat munching on a nut which it held between its front paws. I wanted to knock on the glass and see its reaction when it looked down and saw me but my arms were pinned tightly at my sides.

  I realised the warmth was increasing along with the growing light. The sun was warming me. It was as though I had been trapped in a never-ending night which had finally been broken with a new dawn.

  The squirrel and deer suddenly looked up, facing the same direction I could see their hesitation and fear. In a flash they both took off leaving me alone.

  Whatever had scared them was heading in my direction. I could hear fast-moving footsteps. It sounded like a horse. Would there be a rider? I wondered.

  I was now looking up into a blue sky. The footsteps stopped and there was a rustling sound then a thump on the ground. Someone had definitely dismounted.

  I held my breath and clenched my eyes tightly shut. If I was about to die I didn’t want to see my assailant.

  A sudden rush of air told me the lid had been removed from above me. A clean, fresh smell of woodland air filled my nostrils. The silence was unbearable. Put me out of my misery quickly, I prayed to no one in particular.

  I could sense someone looking at me. I wondered what they were thinking as they looked at my tensed face. Did they find it amusing to hold such power over me?

  Then there was a soft brushing of lips against my cheek, followed by my lips. In spite of my terror I felt my eyes opening. I had to see who had planted the lightest of kisses upon me.

  He was smiling. A handsome, chiselled face framed with brown waves of hair. His eyes were almost green in colour and drew me into their warmth.

  I didn’t know this stranger but I found myself smiling back at him. He offered me his hand which I accepted. Shakily I rose from my resting place.

  His grip felt firm as I rested my weight against him, unsteady on my feet from lying down for so long. I glanced around us and saw we were on a high spot of ground with trees below us spreading out as far as the eye could see.

  I looked down to where I had been lying and drew in a sharp intake of breath as I realised I had been entombed in what appeared to be a glass coffin.

  His arm held my waist as I stumbled back slightly. His grip was strong and despite not knowing this handsome man, I knew I was in no danger.

  I looked back up at his face and realised he had been watching me constantly. “Who are you?” I asked.

  “I am your Prince Charming; I came to wake you from your sleep with a kiss. Will you marry me?”

  I looked around us, expecting one of my friends to leap out from amongst the trees shouting: “Fooled you!” However it was clear we were alone.

  “Marry you?” I asked incredulously.

  His face was full of hope and I realised he was being sincere. This was a dream and the most handsome man I had ever seen had just rescued me from a nightmare and wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. What a shame this kind of thing didn’t happen in real life, I thought to myself.

  “Will you?” he repeated.

  I glanced around us again, making sure I wasn’t being filmed.

  “Okay,” I began. “You want me to marry you?”

  He nodded and smiled. I thought my feet would melt into the ground as a swarm of butterflies seemed to fly up into my stomach from my legs.

  “If this is my dream, then I suppose there’s no harm in agreeing to marry a total stranger.” I had decided to air my thoughts aloud so this Prince Charming could add any comments he wished. I didn’t mind listening to him telling me how much I meant to him. After all, I’d always been a romantic, although I had no reason to pin so much hope onto that concept. It had never brought me any ‘happy ever afters’.

  “So you will marry me?”

  The excitement was making his eyes sparkle and he was clutching my hands together, holding them to his chest. I knew my face was contorting into a huge grin.

  “Yes, okay yes, I’ll marry you.” I laughed in spite of my reservation.

  He wrapped his arms around me and planted his lips firmly against mine. I was glad he was holding me. I felt as though I was beginning to float into the air.

  Suddenly he vanished. I closed my eyes, thinking if I blinked slowly he would reappear. But when I opened my eyes I realised I was back in my bed and the LED on my alarm clock was telling me it was 7.31am.

  I let go of the pillow I was clutching and turned onto my back. I let my dream play itself over again in my mind. I wanted to cry when it ended.

  I was angry that I had allowed myself to imagine things could be that simple. It was about time I gave up on romance and tried being sensible and realistic for a change. No Prince Charming was going to come looking for me whilst I lived in a perpetual state of dreaming.

  Throwing back the duvet I slipped into the bathroom. A quick shower then a trip to the gym would soon sort me out, I decided. At this time of the morning on a Saturday the place would be deserted and I wouldn’t have to face the embarrassment of getting tired and sweaty in front of an audience.

  It was only a short walk to the gym and I slung my holdall over my shoulder as I stepped onto the pavement.

  With my mp3 plugged into my ears, playing good old eighties music, I strolled along the familiar route.

  Although it was early the air was filled with an array of cooked food smells, some spicy, others telling of a good old British fry up. I forced my mind away from the images of fried bacon and an egg with a runny yolk.

  Turning a corner, I knew I was supposed to check the road before I stepped off the pavement and don’t understand why I didn’t. The bicycle smashed into my legs and I remember hearing a loud groan and a scream, not knowing whether either of them were mine, before the world went black.

  It was almost like being back in my nightmare. My body ached when I tried to move and I was scared of opening my eyes in case I found myself surrounded in darkness again.

  However, the sound of whispering voices told me this was different and I slowly let my eyelids open.

  A pair of grinning friendly faces welcomed me back into the land of the living. My two best friends in the world: Sue and Denise were smiling and began chattering quickly at the same time.

  I put my hands over my ears, overwhelmed by their enthusiasm.

  “Please, stop, slow down and just one of you at a time,” I cried.

  They looked at each other and started laughing.

  “Sorry,” Denise said. “We’re just glad you’re okay. You had us worried for a while.”

  “What happened?” I asked them.

  “Don’t you remember anything?” Sue asked.

  I tried pulling myself into a sitting position and felt a pair of arms reach out to help me. Once I was settled I looked at them and saw they were waiting eagerly for me to speak.

  “I recall a bicycle. I think I stepped into the road. It’s a bit hazy.”

  “You chose the right bike to jump out at,” Sue said with a sigh.

  I frowned and Denise nodded towards an enormous vase of flowers standing on a cabinet.

  “Are they from you two?”

  “No,” Denise cried. “Your cyclist brought them in.”

  I looked at her in confusion.

  “The rider I stepped in front of decided to bring me flowers?” There must have been thirty pounds worth of flowers in the vase which was large enough to have been called a bowl. The scent filled the air and the colours were vibrant enough to bring life to the otherwise drab hospital room.

  “I know it sounds crazy but he was really worried about you,” Denise added.

  “I can’t believe you missed seeing him though,” Sue added. “He was gorgeous.”

  I laughed. It sounded typical. The chance to meet a handsome man and I decide to take him out by trying to kill him. Only then, it’s him who comes to apologise to me and I have to be in the land of nod when he visits. It sounded like the story of my life, never lucky
in love. I bet I was dribbling when he saw me too, I decided.

  “Did he say anything?”

  My friends exchanged a knowing look which worried me; I hated it when they ganged up against me, they always won.

  “He wanted to know your name and asked whether you’d ever learnt to cross the road properly,” Denise replied.

  “He didn’t.” I was shocked and embarrassed. “Whatever must he have thought of me?”

  “Don’t worry, we told him you were a bit of a dozy mare,” Sue said with a smirk.

  I covered my face with my hands. Perhaps it was just as well I hadn’t been aware of his visit.

  “You missed a treat though,” Sue added. “He was lovely; tall, dark and the most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever seen.”

  “What was so special about his eyes then?” I asked realising they were desperate to tell me everything they could about this man.

  “They were so green and just beautiful,” Sue sighed.

  “Not exactly green,” Denise added. I smiled.

  “And I suppose he had brown, wavy hair framing an exquisite face.”

  “How do you know what his hair was like?” Denise demanded. “Has he been back?”

  “He couldn’t have come back,” Sue interrupted her. “We’ve been here all the time.”

  I frowned. Recalling the man in my dream it seemed odd that my mysterious visitor fitted the same description.

  “Anyway, he’s been and gone so that’s that.” I must admit, I felt a little low. Not just from my bruises but I would have liked to see what the cyclist looked like properly. I’d not had chance for more than a brief glance before his cycle had knocked me off my feet. Now I’d never know how similar he was to the man of my dreams.

  After another day in hospital, just to check there was no concussion, I was allowed to go home. Glad to escape from the clinical, antiseptic-smelling surrounds of the hospital, Denise drove me home before having to disappear to pick up her children from school. Both she and Sue had asked me to go and stay with them but I was looking forward to my own company after being surrounded by people constantly whilst in hospital.

  I closed the front door behind me and leant back heavily. It was reassuring to be home. I busied myself putting the flowers I’d brought back with me in vases, unpacked the things the girls had brought to the hospital for me and then settled onto the sofa with a mug of coffee.

  The peace and quiet was soothing and I looked forward to a few days of recuperation before I had to go back to work.

  I must have dozed off because when I opened my eyes it was almost dusk outside and I felt chilly. I went into my bedroom to get a cardigan.

  Surprised to hear loud knocking on the door downstairs, I went to the intercom and pressed the button.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Max,” I heard after a short delay.

  Frowning, I tried to think who I knew called Max. No one came to mind.

  “Are you sure you have the right number?”

  “It’s Sophie, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I replied hesitantly.

  “I’m Max, the cyclist. I came to see how you are.”

  I stepped back slightly. How could it be him? I wondered. I pressed the button again.

  “How did you know where I lived?”

  “Your friends gave me your address.”

  I rolled my eyes. Thanks guys, I thought. Give a stranger my home address. I had to think quickly; he was obviously waiting for a response.

  “I’ll come down,” I said.

  The least I could do was to apologise for the accident to him face to face but I wasn’t about to invite him into my home.

  Stepping quickly out of my old slippers and sliding my feet into a pair of shoes, I checked my reflection in the mirror. There wasn’t time for me to make any great effort so I ran a brush through my hair and checked I wasn’t showing too much cleavage.

  I paused by the door which opened onto the street. Taking a deep breath I pulled it slowly open and peered out.

  He was leaning on the lamppost. Our eyes met and I tried not to look too much like a goldfish as I opened my mouth, then quickly closed it again.

  “It’s you,” I muttered eventually. He smiled and stepped forward.

  “I’m sorry to come so soon after you got out of the hospital but I wanted to say sorry.”

  “It’s you,” I repeated. I knew he probably thought I had a severe case of concussion by now and had been released too early from hospital.

  He was looking confused but I didn’t know how to explain myself. It was the same man from my dreams; he even had the same voice.

  “Do you need to sit down?” he asked.

  “No, I’m sorry,” I laughed feebly. “It’s just we’ve met before but you clearly don’t remember that.” He laughed and shook his head.

  “I apologise. I can’t imagine I would have forgotten you. Why don’t we go for a coffee and you can tell me about our previous encounter. I hope it was a little less dramatic than the one the other day.”

  He was pointing towards the café over the road and I could see no danger in accepting his invitation. I didn’t fancy telling him that I’d been dreaming about him and would have to think of something quickly. This could be quite entertaining, I thought as I pulled the door closed behind me and followed Max across the road.

  *****************************

  “Okay, touché, you win that one.” My hand met his in a high-five.

  We slid down off our cloud and fluttered through the darkening sky to find our next victims. It was a relentless life being a cupid, especially around this time of year. People expected to find love around Valentine’s Day. It did spice things up a bit for us though, I suppose, arranging all these liaisons between perfect strangers. It became a bit of a challenge to see which of us could come up with the most convoluted way of bringing a couple together and I think George had definitely won with those two.

  Sonya C. Dodd © 2014

  Foretold

  Candlelight whispers promise a dream

  Walls distressed, doors unhinged

  Abstract shadow on the side of your face

  Radiate spells already in place

  Cold snow dusts broken glass panes

  Settling flakes together once again

  Under the ice, water starts to trickle

  Running haphazardly down the window

  Feeling your breath warm inside

  I traced with touch the ache of your smile

  Perfectly sculpted your lips now awake

  Sliding my fingers along the nape

  Your neck, your scent and pulse divine

  Petite silhouette completely sublime

  Moving closer no longer to wait

  On the card table the tarot told fate

  Falling to the floor as the candle looks down

  Stone uneven a kiss now bound

  The wind began blowing, whirling through

  Two-hundred years ago an abode once new

  Ringlets of blonde, soft as pale skin

  Embracing lovers protected within

  Hours had past the candle still burns

  Drips and whispers, lives returned

  William O’Brien © 2014

  Tales of Erana: The Legend of Oeliana

  By A. L. Butcher

  From the world of The Light Beyond the Storm Chronicles.

  Ozena settled by the fireplace, her mahogany hair catching the tints and shades of the dancing flames. That hair now had a touch of grey and the hand which absently played with the ring on her finger was scarred and lined. Of the many rooms within the manor house in Tremellic this one was her favourite. So many happy memories of this place and so many tears shed for the ones whose ghosts walked these lands, fallen in the war. The glowglobes brightened to soft amber and their light added to the orange tones of the fire, it felt warm and comforting. She felt safe here. Absently her fingers found the ring which had graced her finger for many years, a ring of silver wov
en around a large pearl of dark iridescent green. The Heart of the Maiden was rare beyond price and always made the dark-haired elf smile, despite her losses. It was not the value which brought her joy, although she lived in comfort, she cared little about the trappings of wealth. There were far more important riches which were fought and died for, such as freedom and of course love. Ozena stared over to the small, silk-bound book on the desk and, knowing its author might never complete penning the story, she wiped a tear away. She fetched ink and quill, resolute to complete the story so that nothing was lost.

  ****

  When the world was young and the wild magic flowed like the Great River there lived a nymph, a spirit of the forest. Such beings once walked beneath the sun and moon; they were creatures of magic, incarnation of tree, of water, and the very essence of life itself. Oeliana was the nymph’s name, for this was the also name of the deep, still and silver pool from which she had been born when first the sun caressed the land. Fish swam among bright green fronds, scales of silver and azure. Frogs and toads rested on dark grey rocks; their long tongues feeding on the hovering flies and dragon-flies which darted above, seeking even smaller creatures for their dinner. Deer, wild goats and boar fed upon fallen apples and the widespread fungi; the Shimmering Forest was bountiful to its inhabitants, animal and person alike. Herbs grew here, thick and tall, even in winter. The herbs of the forest provided medicine for those who knew their power. Wild-goats, now tamed, provided both milk and a substitute for the companionship she lacked.

  Hers was a life of duty, she was custodian of the trees, the forest creatures and pools, and so her time passed, timeless as she was. Even the common elves visited Oeliana seeking guidance and the wisdom of the forest, and occasionally healing when their own skills had failed. They would bring gifts of food and polished stones or shells; the pool slowly filled with the gifts, for what use were trinkets to a nymph? Yet she was lonely for those who came did not stay; they came for their own ends and left with no further thought of the nymph. The spirit of the forest craved the touch of another, for she saw the lovers who sometimes came to her glade and heard their words of love. Never had she been loved nor experienced the passion which fascinated her as the lovers moved together on beds of moss and leaves. Magic demanded a high price and Oeliana was a creature of magic, loneliness was the price she paid. So she watched, longing for a companion, and she prayed to the gods for even immortals need the favour of higher beings on occasion.