Chapter One- Yurelia's Drawing

Under the pale moon's watchful gaze, beneath a somber sky and a dead tree with gnarling branches, sat Yurelia, drawing in her canvas notebook- creating a sketch of a face she could never forget. As the slight girl drew, penciling in each line of his face with precision and care, rubbing the lines with an index finger to soften them, her heart followed the lines; her memory softened as well.

It was not Aaron's fault, this haunting of Yurelia's every waking thought. He had not ever intended to abandon her. The culpability for her shattered heart, for the tears she had wept, was solely her own. She had known from the beginning that they were from two different worlds, and that one day he would have to return to his own. She had also realized that right here was where she belonged, with her own kind, where she fit. Regardless of the knowledge that all fault was her own, perhaps because of it, she watched as one salty tear hit the fresh graphite she had just rubbed into the page; a silver pool darkened the pale paper.

The shadows were falling, and the night began to deepen. As the moon rose full and high, Yurelia looked at her completed sketch. The whole thing was darkened by her tears now, the entire page sodden by her sadness. Scarcely an inch in one corner remained pale.

Following one ray of the moon's sombre light, she traced a path through the shadowy field, toward home. The more time she spent alone, the more she dwelt on thoughts of Aaron, of their times together. Her mind was tired of being woeful. She needed a crowd, light, warmth, companionship- for surely she would go mad if things continued in this way. It was time to stop mourning the loss of an impossible dream, to move on to a future, whatever future may become possible.

Yurelia's mind betrayed her. As she glimpsed a tree limb, wavering in the day's last sighing breeze, it became the quiver of Aaron's bottom lip, the last time he had kissed her on that day she knew was meant for goodbyes. As the grass rustled, she turned to imagine him walking up behind her- a pleasant surprise- and felt the touch of his hand on her shoulder, his laughter stealing her away to another time and place...

The day they met at the river's edge, the first meeting of their eyes drew intensity. The strange man tried to speak, but she did not comprehend his crude tongue at all then. Yurelia could only read his eyes, the hand he extended in friendship, the set of his smile, so very warm and beautiful.

Now, these many moons distant, Yurelia gave in to her memories- all of them...

Reviews

[No one]

I know this is but a part of a longer work, so I won't comment on closure or anything. Still, this doesn't feel like a first chapter. The cliffhanger at the end, if that's what it's meant to be, didn't really hook me.

I liked the foreshadowing in this line--->The strange man tried to speak, but she did not comprehend his crude tongue at all then.< ---This makes the reader wonder what language the man spoke, where he came from, where he found her...

Read this sentence.--->He had not ever (never) intended to abandon her. The culpability for her shattered heart, for the tears she had wept, was solely her own.Her expectations for ideal love were to blame for her broken heart and the tears she wept....

As the slight girl drew, penciling in each line of his face with precision and care, rubbing the lines with an index finger to soften them, her heart followed the lines; her memory softened as well.

[poddar kushal]

"haunting of Yurelia's every waking thought" and other lines alike are poetical and the writing has an allure of romantic painting, colorful and passionate