Prize: Nothing unless I feel like it. Nothing if not enough people join.
Due: February 14th
Prompt: She walked through the door of the study, carrying a revolver in her left hand and her heart on her right. *
Type: Prose or Poetry, you choose.
Length: No more than 1000
Judge: Me.
So, who's entering?
*although you are not required to use the prompt verbatim, please use this as a topic of your writing.
I am. Nothing else to do on my valentine's. rofl.
ADDITION:
"Jonathan!" Beth stretched her tone as she called from down the stairs. "Time to get up hon', we're going to the museum with your father." She called out again.
"Okay mom!" He called back.
Jon walked down the stairs, jumping over the last three, straight for the floor. "What's for breakfast?" His dark-brown hair as messy as his bed was left, but his eyes were wide awake. He's excited about the trip.
Beth works as a nurse at the local hospital. About a week ago, Dr. Gaeson called her up, telling her that she didn't have to go to work for the next two week, and when she pressed for an explaination, they either ignored her or simply changed the subject.
"Walter!" Beth called out in the same way she called Jon.
"Coming hon'!" He called back as the way his son did.
Walter is a psycologist. His work has him bound like pandas to bamboo, can't let go of it. His patients are many, and most of then needy, making him a 24/7 house mental doctor. The Needy seem rather calm lately, so he decided to plan some time with the family.
"Jonathan, you're seventeen, not seven, you can comb your own hair." She nagged without looking as she pasted strawberry jelly on the toasts. "Could you go grab the milk and set out three glasses?"
Without answering, Jon did. As he reached for the glasses, just outside the window he saw Her... Who? Without a second thought, he shook his mind off of it and finished setting up the table.
Inside his head was an image. Though not too sure what it was, he remembered it being a peaceful place. Just a dream, he thought, like all the other ones he's been having. They were all very much alike.
Walter joined them in the kitchen and they finished breakfast with a glass of milk. The family grabbed their necessaries and left the house.
They walked. The museum was just five blocks away from their house, so Walter thought his off-time would be better spent strolling with his family. They arrived at the museum and the site of the building left them in awe. Before the steps was a small monument with what seemed to be an angel clipping her wings as her lover got ready to catch her from below. The title, "Be with you" was engraved on the front. The building was of metal and smokey windows. The windows reflected the autumn maples throughout the street and at the top, the sky.
A vast prairie of various flowers and luscious colors, himself, and another figure entered Jon's mind.
What?
He remembered. The flowers, the colors, her... He remembered all the times he had spent with Her--in his dreams. He thought it must be that thing teenagers go through at a certain age, but it was never sexual in ways his friends have talked about.
"Esabelle..."
"What was that, hon'?"
"Oh, uh... nothing, mom."
They walked into into the museum through the spinning door. Goosebumps circled around his back and then winded up to his neck and then his face. It wasn't the kind of disgusting feeling you get when someone scares you really bad, but rather, a calm sensation that seemed to... greet.
The museum was full of fine arts and crafts. He particularly liked a wood sculpture of two birds spinning, holding each other in its wings as they did. Then he came to a familiar room. He had seen it somewhere before. The room was different from the rest. Its walls were painted of beautiful colors and growth of flowers were vast and plenty on the ground. Only two parts were not painted; a small path that led to an empty circle in the middle of the room, and a large rectangle on the wall was missing of paint. The room was blocked off by belts, but he stood in front of it, staring blankly.
This was it. The scene. His dream. This was the place he had been spending his time as he dreamt nearly every night for the past three months. The sky was an ambient blue with few pieces of gentle clouds while the ground was generous of flowers and colors. The shape of missing paint on the wall was where he would spend the entire time conversing with Her.
"Jonathan. Somethings are happening here, and..." She hesitated, "and I'm afraid we might not spend time together like this anymore."
"Esabelle, what are you talking about?"
"I'm sorry, but..." her voice crackled.
"Hey, don't worry about it. I'll make sure we'll have these moments no matter what. I promise."
"Jonathan--"
"Just Jon," he inturruped. "Call me by just Jon."
She recited his name under her breath and looked up to his eyes. "But," she paused to think, "to speak like that is to be informal and we're--"
Jon laid his hand on the back of her head and pulled her towards him. She closed her eyes and their lips met. She panted softly as he held her tight, and tighter. Their tongues danced in compliments to each other and their breaths marked the beats.
Jon began to pull away and her eyes slowly opened. Her heart pounding and face flush with red. "We're not so formal now, are we?"
"Jonathan Michael McGrawn! Wake up this instance!"
In his sleepiest voice, "What?"
"Get dressed Jon, you're going to be late for the bus!"
"Alright! Alright!"
Jon waited at the bus stop and tried to remember the dream he just had. No cigar. With its distinct sound just around the corner, the bus came on its usual route. The doors opened and he stepped in. He looked for a seat and, instead, found a familiar face smiling at him.
"Esabelle...."
"Hi, Jon."