Sought for but Unseen

Fiction By Elizabeth // 7/5/2011

Breathless, she collapsed. She beheld her hands before her on the pavement; they were blue, bruised and numb. Pattering, the rain struck her back, dripped down her hair and caused little ripples in the puddles that surrounded her. She was on her knees: torn by the rough pavement. Around her there was no one; not a living being passed by on the streets. Alone. Companion by companion had deserted her. Now upon her knees she sank; to her unfeeling hands she leaned.     

     Lifting up her head, she wiped her face and stood. She struggled forward. Hardly able to perform the simple task of bending and unbending her knees, she clenched her hands. Her skirt of pale blue was soaking with the blood of her knees. Her heart pounded. No thought entered her head. Too often had her mind been racked with fear, anxiety, loneliness, insecurity, and despair. Now, not a thought plagued her. She only felt. Felt the rain, felt her physical pain, felt the cracked paving underneath her un-shod feet.       

     Before her she saw only images, blurred. Further up the street was a marble ascent of steps. To where those steps led she knew not, but those other dwellings on the sides of the road were evil, and her heart knew them to be so. She felt drawn to the marble stairs; they were light and beautiful. She continued forward. Step replaced step. Ground slipped ever so slowly from beneath her. She could feel the presence of emptiness on either side of the road. She did not behold it, however, for she kept her eyes down. Only assured by the presence of the marble stairs, she continued to walk.     

     Her pace slackened. Across the stony path she tore her feet from each present position to another that was closer to the white steps. Gasping for breath, her heart started to flutter and her eyes shut for a moment. Pinching her eyes closed, tears slipped from underneath her eyelids reluctant. Opening her eyes again, she saw the white banister before her. Placing her hand on its smooth surface, she stepped onto the first marble stair. It was smooth, gentle to her feet and even, unlike the pavement that bled her knees. A second step she ascended. Fear left her. A third step, and a peace she never knew swept into her shattered heart. The fourth step received her and all despair slipped away. The fifth step and her fists unclenched. The sixth step and she felt her feet soothed. The seventh step: she stood. For one moment she stood. Unable to move herself, sudden weakness took her and she again collapsed. As she fell, her knees struck the marble, her bleeding, cut, punctured knees. She screamed and lay still.       

     For hardly a minute she lay there. She felt strong hands take her shoulders; a touch she never felt before. She shook, but not with fear. Arms swept about her and lifted her up. A finger touched her eyelids ever so gently. She was pressed against the Carrier’s chest. The Carrier kissed her soaked head, but she felt the kiss not there, but upon her very heart. She felt the lips touch every scar, every wound, every tear therein.       

     Her eyes now opened. Uplifting her gaze as the Carrier in unison lifted up her face, she beheld a man. Not wrapped round in mists, or hedged about with darkness, but alone. He was Himself. He was there, carrying her, but also inside of her. Not a word could be spoken of His beauty, not a phrase could be formed to describe His face.    

     He opened the doors that she unknowingly was trying to reach. Into a long aisle way He carried her. She beheld nothing but His face; for He never withdrew his gaze, and she never felt He would. She felt herself seated upon His lap. She rested her head on His shoulder. She felt herself become one within Him. She did not resist. To be was all she wanted. To be with Him was all she longed for.

Comments

Wow!

 I love it, love it, love it! Beautiful, Elizabeth. I loved the dreamy quality of the writing, and the mysteriousness of it. And I loved how it said, ''The Carrier kissed her soaked head, but she felt the kiss not there, but upon her very heart.''

Absolutely beautiful. Two thumbs up :)

Laura Elizabeth | Wed, 07/06/2011

*************************************************
The best stories are those that are focused, unassuming, and self-confident enough to trust the reader to figure things out. --

http://lauraeandrews.blogspot.com/2014/05/dont-tell-me-hes-smart.html

I second that!

Beautiful, Elizabeth! The beginning was so vividly descriptive--I could feel the rain and the wet pavement and the sting of skinned knees... and then it all just faded into something warm and whole at the end. Bravo!

Mary | Thu, 07/07/2011

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Brother: Your character should drive a motorcycle.
Me: He can't. He's in the wilderness.
Brother: Then make it a four-wheel-drive motorcycle!

Elizabeth... This is truly

Elizabeth... This is truly beautiful, there is just no other word for it... I got a whole range of emotions out of this piece; it really touches the reader, especially at the end, where I got a sense of joy mixed with longing... Well done!

Hannah W. | Thu, 07/07/2011

 oh wow that was amazing! I

 oh wow that was amazing! I second everything those afore me said.

Renee | Thu, 07/07/2011

beautiful...

Sorry I forgot to comment...this is beautiful, the descriptions are of the highest quality.

Bernadette | Tue, 08/23/2011

Very well done!

I could feel this, and I was very much in it, especially at the end - how often have we all felt that way? 

Kyleigh | Wed, 08/24/2011