Je te laisserai des mots

Chapter one: The Nightingale

A severe winter in 1778 occurred in famine and widespread starvation in the countryside.  Prices rising in Paris compelled bread riots and in 1789 France became poor. Antoinette was a 18 year old young woman with an illness known as glioblastoma. She had a tumor in her head spreading throughout her body with the unconditional admiration to cause her to one day give out and give in to her illness. She lived with her family who took care of her while her cancer began to consume her life and took over every chance of having a normal life. Antoinette loved reading books about love, she studied the way a man and woman can go beyond the depths of loving each other. Her family was poor and at times they would go to sleep without eating, go to sleep without knowing when the next time there would be food on their plates or a job that came with a paycheck to fill their empty cabinets where food was meant to be. Antoinette was a noble and promising woman. She loved her family and loved her struggles. If there was one thing that she learned from anything in her life was that being alive with even the most absurd struggles was far more valuable then not being alive at all. Antoinette was poor, and sick, but she still had the brightest smile, the kindest soul, and the most encouraging words when her family needed it. Growing old and growing wise her passion to become a ballerina stood inviolable. She loved to dance and fill her soul with burning passion from the tips of her pointe shoes. The more sick  Antoinette had got the more her own illness gave in to her time and attention, far more than dancing ever could. The fear of dying did not scare Antoinette but the fear of leaving behind the ones she loved was inevitable and inescapable. She knew her time was soon where God would send her up in grace and for her life to be honored and never forgotten by the ones she touched, not with her hands but with her soul. She would sit there in a chair on her balcony reading her books and watching the night in her A pied-à-terre. She knew that she would die soon, and to her so was everyone else, slowly and gradually. That night Antoinette decided to go out  and find something, anything to keep her memory fresh and her maybe last minutes worth everything. Strolling around the streets of France alone she enjoyed the silence and enjoyed the remembrance. Almost every street she had memories of her mom and her walking hand in hand looking up at the same stars and walking into the same boutiques. She never doubted for a minute the love her mother and father had for her or the feeling they had of them wanting to do more for her and her illness. At times like these it was hard even if there parents had money for treatments and visits to the doctors time by time there was still no guarantee to Antoinette that she would make through the night. Every night before bed she would pray and she would hear the silent sobs of her father crying while stroking her almond hair watching her sleep peacefully. Every night she said goodbye to them as if it was her last night so this way there Would be no doubt she left without something to remember. walking in the brisk night and the howl of the wind Antoinette had no wish to go back home to her little house, she loved breathing the fresh air and feeling the cold wind brush through her hair. Antoinette looked down at the very side walk she strolled along and saw a shadow of a man in front of her leading her to believe there was a tall, large man behind her. She slowly turned around and saw a tall, and handsome man approach her. His blonde hair and dark brown eyes were angelic. His skin was clear and soft his lips were plump and pink, his figure was fit and skinny and he towered over her ready to stumble on his words. She hardly knew this stranger but felt a deep connection within his soul and his presence as if he had been with her her whole life."you have quite the figure Mr" Antoinette said to the man softly. "I apologise I didn't mean to startle you" he says with his low and raspy voice following with a warm smile. Antoinette took quite a moment to study his eyes. She had never seen a more alluring color. She had never looked into someone's eyes and saw so much history. like the depths of his eyes held wars , as if his gaze had locked with the rare sights of prosperity and tranquility. She studied his lips the way they were perfectly sculptured and designed to taste the love from the people he desired. "Pardon my inquisitivity but may I ask what you are puzzled about." The man says gazing back at her with a soft and smirky smile. "Oh my, excuse my insolence, I was reading you" Antoinette said with a stutter and lost track of thought. "Reading me" the man says puzzled. "Like a book" he questions. "Yes most certainly, i can know more about a person from the roots of their fingertips, and from the depths of their eyes rather than the words they say and the stories they tell" Antoinette vindicates. Antoinette was a bright woman, she knew everything about anything but the way the man stared at her, the way the man too studied her, she remained clueless. "May I walk you home miss, it's rather dark out" the man says with pleasure. "Oh please, call me Antoinette" she says rather reassuring. "As you wish Antoinette. I am pierre, please to make your acquaintance" he says bowing. "Oh please, I am not royalty, far from the equalities of it. I am a poor woman, a very poor poor woman" Antoinette says with a giggle. "Yes, it has came to my knowledge, but you are a woman. I must respect your presence, although I will say it is quite magnificent to have" Pierre says smiling with a tint color of pink of his cheeks. Antoinette was a woman of pride. She was poor, she was sick, but she was rather wise, and Noble and for that she was proud of her character. She respected herself, and expected nonetheless of a man she would marry. Pierre was gentle and kind worded. Maybe it was his words that made her feel at ease or his inability to stop gazing at Antoinette every second he had. Breaking the eye contact Antoinette and Pierre had shared she looked at the time and realized that she had to be home soon. Her walk for fresh air and escape from reality became a meeting of a man she had desperately wanted to know more about. "I'm sorry I mustn't keep my parents worried and waiting, it was lovely meeting you Pierre, goodnight" Antoinette said hurrying off. "Bonsoir" Pierre said while watching Antoinette disappear into the dark and foggy night of France. He walked away with his head down and a smile, and Antoinette walked away within a hurry and with a grin.When Antoinette got home she placed her jacket on the old wooden rocking chair on the balcony and sat there looking more at the Night sky. The house was quiet and empty meaning that Antoinette's parents were asleep peacefully in their room. Antoinette stood up that night restless staring up at the ceiling waiting for her eyes to start sagging and for her mind to start wandering into a place not even the wisest men know where we go. There was a feeling she had deep within the core of her stomach and the roots of her heart. Was it the man she had just met? How absurd it would be if it was Antoinette had thought to herself. the feeling was compulsion and intimacy. built up passion and desire to know more. For a woman who knew just about everything, her learning that she didn't quite no everything driven her into insanity. What did his hands feel like? were they rough and manly or delicate and romantic? what did his lips feel like when they were pushed onto another set? Did it feel tender and would a kiss help her closure with all the questions she sat up at night wondering about this man. suddenly she noticed that someone rather than herself was her main attention. Antoinette was a selfless woman but with her sickness she was for the longest time her first priority and the only person that had her focus. It was truly hard for it not to be that way. For a woman who was dying closer and closer by the seconds, minutes, and hours passing it was as if she had forgotten she was sick and poor. She grew an obsession to know more about this man. The connection and the intensity she had when he was in her presence was addicting and she had only wanted more minutes with him, more talks with him, and for herself to learn even more about him by examining him and reading the insides and out of this character he was set to be in the role of life. She caught her fascinations and hopes of this happening and soon stopped herself. Antoinette wanted more time with him... time she didn't have. She had never a day in her life presumed about tomorrow or had hopes of more time within the next day or the following after that, because it was simply understood that for Antoinette it just wasn't promising. Meeting this man gave her a purpose and a reason to want to live to see the new day or the following after that. It was a gift and a curse. This man was her hope for a miracle and this man was the reason that she viewed death as a tragedy rather than the peace she had set out to believe in the beginning to ease her conscious for when she had passed. Antoinette knew that a woman living with her conditions was not fit to love or marry a man and make promises she wouldn't be alive to keep, unless of course the promise was til death do us part. The feeling of loss that clouded over her, without anything even being given for her to lose. It was a slap in the face for Antoinette and a taunting misery making her realize she was a sick woman with no one to love or make happy other then her own reflection. She thought to herself harder about what it meant to be alive at all. Antoinette thought about how she could die at any given moment. It could be as tragic as her cancer spreading throughout her brain and causing her to have a seizure, or as simple as natural causes and dying in her sleep. she had thought to herself even more diverse. What would have been the point of the little time of life she had before she died if she hadn't even lived it as effortlessly as the cancer were to kill her. The cancer would wipe her out in seconds matter of minutes, letting her die in the middle of a sentence, in the middle of a journey, in the middle of life... while Antoinette prepared and paused waiting for it to happen. Love was something Antoinette studied, and fed her curiosities. Watching her mother and father and how much her father cared for her mother started her curiosities young at the ages of 5. Antoinette's father Matteo had done everything with and for Antoinette's mother Elena starting from as little as opening doors and holding hands to as big as planning the rest of their future and treating her nonetheless of the perfect woman she is. Watching her parents be in love impacted her obsession with knowing what this "feeling" is, or how it makes your senses and everything else come last. All Antoinette could understand that the man she had met today made her think far beyond about her limitations then every before. She was afraid to live like a healthy person, and live too bold as if she had time, but also afraid she would shell herself into her illness and miss out on what everyone else seemed to have or experience. Antoinette turned on her side getting ready to sleep peacefully until she heard what sounded like a pecking on her window. She couldn't quite tell if it was pebbles or if it was tapping. She got up and saw a peculiar sight of a Nightingale attached to her Cypress tree outside her window. She stroked it's feathers gently and enjoyed it's company. Antoinette started to think again about this man she had met. But this time it was about his smile and his eyes. She looked at the Nightingale one last time as it flew off , and she went back inside into her bed and sat there again staring at the ceiling with questions. Questions that couldn't be answered without experiencing. the next morning Antoinette awoke with the sun peaking through her silk curtains and the warm radiance of the sun resting upon her pink rosy cheeks. with a swift movement she slowly awoke from her slumber and pushed her layers of hazelnut amber hair back from her view of the sun laying onto her old rusted ivory walls. She fell in love with the comfort of the warmth the sun gave her  upon her icy pale skin. While she stood up from her bed walking to her balcony she felt the direct warmth on her skin. This comfort reminded her of the night before, the night she met Pierre. The lingering peculiarity of Pierre did not go away throughout the night nor within the next day. His absence upset her within, knowing he himself , is the only reliable provenance to the the answers to all her questions about him. Antoinette wasted not a minute more within the comfort of the sun and the questions of the unanswered in her head. She got dressed within her favorite faded pink floral dress, and her corset over. she tied a matching pink bow around the top of her half up half down hair and took her basket, and left her house. Antoinette enjoyed days within summer that the sun was out and everyone was happy. She took advantage of these summer days and she would go as frequently as she could to pick tulips from the garden and loaf to Bring home for dinner to her mother and father. As Antoinette walked up along a path on her way to the garden , she heard the sounds of a bow lightly striking the strings of a violin. at first gaze she recogonized this figure of a man , the silk blonde hair, the beautiful hazel nut eyes studying the violin with his eyes, the same eyes that studied her the night of his appearance. She gazed and watched him play a piece of music so gratifying to her ears and hadn't noticed anything but his stance and the way his hands moved gentle and swiftly up and down the bow as it stringed along the violin cords. He was gentle and kind with everything he touched and held which  grew Antoinettes curiosity for Pierres nature. she fell in deep concentration of his swift movements and delicate features until Pierres hand moved out of his stance and the music stopped. his hands were now to his side and he met with Antoinette's gaze. the warmth lingering inside Antoinette, as if the sun was still gleaming upon her skin, but in substitution of the sun it was Pierres glance, his brown dark eyes , like Academia watching over her. This warmth and resoultion to her curiosity was her instant gratification, and in those moments where their eyes met, Antoinette surrendered to his gaze, no answer to a question could stop her from the obsession of knowing and feeling more from him. her closure lied within his academia brown eyes, and his soft tender pink lips.