A Secret

A man meets a woman and feels like he falls in love with her.

 

 

        Stand under the yellow light, she will come. She will come draped in her dress that hugs her body so, making every step a wonder of beauty. Your smoke will slowly roll out of your mouth as you contemplate, the light scaring away shadows from you eyes. Her foot steps will ring the light ring of high heels on wet concrete and you will wonder who it is that carries such feet, and there she will be leaning on the dry part of the wall, to not get her dress wet. 

        -Can you light my cigarette? she will ask holding it up to her lips tauntingly, her blue eyes washing over you before you can prepare the flood gates. 

        -Of course. You say, for you are such a gentleman, and as you reach in your pocket for your zippo she will lean forward, holding her cigarette strongly and light it off of yours. Your eyes will stare forward at her shot ones, and wonder, what type of girl is this?

        -Why is a man like yourself out on such a teary night? She will ask with a smile and a puff.

        -Why is a woman like yourself in a pretty little dress out at such a night? You will ask in return, catching the illness of her smile.

        -Me? I am waiting.

        -Waiting for what?

        -For the right time. 

        -Is that time now?

        -I don't know, why don't you tell me.

        -I think it is. She smiles and shakes her head .

        -Nope, I am afraid its not. She ends with a smile. But, how about you give me your number and I will call you when it is?

        -That sounds nice. You say as your heart weighs down already with the lost time. You watch as she flicks the cigarette into the street and reach into her purse with a gloved hand, her blond slightly curly hair falls loosely to her face and as she turns you brush it away, feeling her skin that danced like a hill across her face.

        -Write it down. She says handing you a card and a pen, and as you write she says. Well at-least something came out of this night. Some way to spend New Years 46 on a corner with another lonely being. You hand her the card and say.

        -Who says I am lonely?

        -Your eyes.

Two Weeks Later

 

        Your phone rings, just at the moment when you give up the possibility that it could be her. 

        -Hello? You answer.

        -Might this be a gentlemen I bored a light from on a teary night on New Years.

        -I am afraid you are right.

        -Why are you afraid.

        -Because your memory has taunt me so I have slept little and now I might never sleep.

        -Well I will just have to make it worth a life time won't I? 

        -I guess so.

        -Well then meet me at the Fitzgerald. 

 

30 Minutes Later

 

        You walk into the bar and the band is playing their tune, you barely notice it for she sits at the bar, her back erect and her held tilted back, lost in the smoke. You walk slowly over to her, watching your steps, wondering if they are what she wants. But then that thought stumbles you, because you have never cared about that. Why think about it now? What makes this girl so different then the other ones you have let go? Nothing that you know yet, other then she is unknown to you, even her name.

        -I see you have become more beautiful with age. You say as you walk up to her letting your finger trace her arm that is rapped in a black glove.

        -I see you become more of a gentleman with age. What a nice match we have here.

        -We should marry.

        -Only when I am old and tired of men. She says with a smile finally turning her head to you washing your eyes with hers. You and her stay where you are trying to figure one another out in the complexities of the slight shadows of a pupil and wonder, what things she has done to end her up in a place like this with a guy like you.

        -If we are to marry you should tell me about your self. You say with a sideways smile, leaning in a little more. The closeness of when she lit her cigarette haunts you to the point of necessity. 

        -But if we are marrying when I am old then what rush do we have?

        -What if I say I am old now? At this she smiles, and you flutter.

        -Then I will say that we should dance, to make sure I am not marrying a man with two left feet. She says standing, your hand in hers as she leads you away, the cigarette she left on the counter lets smoke drift slowly out of it moving like she does, in beauty.

        When you get to the dance floor the band changes tone and shifts to a slow song, brining you as close to her as she was when she lit her cigarette and with your necessity met addiction takes its place. You do not say a word, instead her body tells you everything you need to know. The movement of her hips the way her fit only slightly lift off the ground and the way when ever her face is near yours, her eyes flow directly to yours. You break the silence.

        -Tell me your name.

        -No.

        -Flat out no?

        -That is what I said isn't it? She snaps. This surprises you, yet excites you, a page of her character reviled to you. Sorry, I just don't feel like telling you my name, it is secret. 

        -Well why don't you tell me why you don't want to tell me your name?

        -The reason no one does, their past.

        That is the last she says, after the dance she moves to her chair and grabs her coat to leave, you follow her out. You watch the curve of her body as she leans against the brick wall, a yellow light scaring away the shadows from her eyes.  You break the silence again.

        -You know what they did in the old days when they had a secret? 

        -What? You have caught her.

        -They would climb a mountain and find a crack in a rock and whisper it into it. You say holding a circle up to your face. Why don't you whisper it into this crack? With that she smiles and leans forward starting with,

        -Just a month ago. But she is cut off because you move your crack, with a true smile she looks at you and tires for it again, and again, and again, until the crack is at your mouth, and you move it again and she lets her lips touch yours, nothing more happens, they stay there, a moment of bliss in time and she pulls away as a taxi pulls up. Will you share this ride with me? She asks. You say yes.

        The night is dark, and the car ride long, you look out the window she looks out at, seeing your reflection as the car plunges through the infinity of the dark life. You find your eyes dropping, the intensity of her presence drains you of all energy and you soon find your self asleep, head on her shoulder. As the street lights was in and out of the car your hand moves to hers, resting on her thigh and you grab it for warmth in this dead of night. Unbeknown to you she looks down as your hand, entangled in hers and she looks back out the window, her watery eyes damp of life and she draws them away, back to her secret. 

 

A Month Later

 

        You have seen her since that night, in reality and dreams, you have never longed for a girl like this, not since her. That her was a bad one for you, all she did was drain you of your love by the openness of her life. Now is this girl, still no name known who's unwillingness to leave the pass lures you to love. You soon start to see that everything reminds you of her. Of course the obvious things, like the sound of high-heels on teary pavement and the way smoke dances through the night, and the feel of any thing that remotely resembles her glove. But then there are the other things, like when a branch moves you find that, that is the way her hips move when she walks, and the music you hear, you find that, that is the beat to which her feet walk, one two one, one two one. 

        She calls you to tell you to meet her at the park. Her far from perfect voice seems to fill you up with the hot mixture of emotions, sometimes called love.

 

        At the park you see her standing by a tree, her body leaning against it, her body that could inspire any one to believe in a god, for only a body like that could have been sculpted by a true artist of love and heartbreak. When you walk up to her you put your hands on her shoulders  and whisper in her ear.

        -I have a secret for you. She smiles and turns her head.

        -What is it?

        -I love you and I like you. You end with a light kiss. Her smile fades. And your heart sinks like it did when the other girl's heart would sink.

        -My gentleman, today you will know why I do not tell my secrets.

        -And why is that.

        -Because of men like you. You turn your head, hurt.

        -You know there is more to that story.

        -How does it end?

        -The secret seeps through the crack where a bamboo seed waits, and it sucks it up and grows tall and strong till a man comes by and chops it down to make a flute, and every time he plays the flute the secret no music comes out, only the secret. You say leaning against the tree, running your eyes up her body, eventually searching for her eyes.  

        -I have heard your secret. She says, her eyes over flowing.

        -What was that?

        -I am not going to tell you.

        -Why not?

        -You need to find the man with your flute your self.

        -What should I do when I hear it? You say as she turns and starts to walk away.

        -Find my secret and listen. 

Author's Note

I have not read over it, and I wonder if the point is gotten.

Reviews

[Dustin Chang]

You have a real talent in describing internal emotions. I love your delicate prose. But to be honest, I didn't get the point if there was one. I'll read it again.

[Travis Lawrence]

You've got a talent for imagery. This has a lot going on. I've only read through it once, but I can tell this has a lot of potential.
There are quite a few grammar mistakes and sentance construction issues, but I'm sure that's because you haven't edited it yourself.
Go back through, fix it up, and you'll have a hell of a short story (in my opinion anyway).

-Travis