The Untitled Story

prologue

It was with a trembling amazement when she first felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Her thighs twitched with electrifying impulses, which made her rethink everything about what had brought her back here AGAIN. See, she had not thought this way in a long time, and had it not been for that smell crossing her face, she may have never thought like that again, for all she knew.

The night settled in with great ease and mesmerizing silence. Wind howled threw creaky floorboards, lightning cracking silently, almost forbidden. The fireplace rattled anxiously while crackling an illicit red oak, it was, of course, finally fall.

This time she remembered that if he appeared, the room would again become once more reluctant, with each passing illusion, "maybe," she thought, hallucination, she could never quite make it out. Listening to the lightning approach with abundant force, he like with every storm that would pass, yet again would creep across her mind.

Shuttering with anxiety and racing thoughts the concept of his body against her stone-cold torso would make every fiber of her being liquefy with anticipation. Her heart beating faster with each passing moment, but she soon would realize, it was not real. Her palms throbbing from clenching fists as he became just a vision, a mere shadow, a small glimpse of the past.

As she drifted into slumber, her dreams, now that of a reoccurring nightmare, running from a haunting time of her adolescent years. The dream consisted of the pasture where it all began, that one instance that made time almost stand still. She never believed he would show up there, alone at least. His name rings with an eerie screeching remembrance of the time that she was in love. The feeling that he was so close to touch brought back the memory of their affection. She longed for him, but never let that pressure her into returning home.

Disheveled, she sat stark in her bed as she woke up knowing it was not real, that again, she had been let down. Puzzled, she looked around the room yet frustrated to the fact that she was alone, although this has been her choice, not that she could not have had someone else a long time ago. She never really trusted the idea of settling, too wild she thought to herself.

Then she heard it. The unexpected sound of chatter downstairs in the kitchen. Aimee timidly arose from her bed then she started to creep down the hallway leading towards the back stairwell, as she proceeded the voices became more distinctive. Then, curious now more than ever, she peered her head over the banister. At first only being able to make out her parent's voices, Aimee's jaw dropped as she realized who the other distinctive voice belonged to. She jumped back from the wooden banister that run across the sky walk in the old farmhouse, as if she'd been caught stealing candy. Not too sure how to approach the situation, she did nothing, not at first.