The Soulmate Collection

6 || The Waiting Man

Story Tellers Fiction

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"Soulmate dry your eyes cause soulmates never die."

--Sleeping with Ghosts by Placebo

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"Excuse me, would you mind telling me the story behind this painting," Ellie asked the museum tour guide. Ellie had been standing mystified by the elegant piece of a man with dark brown eyes that seemed to hold longing, desperation, and determination.

The man is peering out a window to the world around him, but the clothing he dons doesn't fully match the time period portrayed. He is wearing more draped like garments accustomed to the 12th century, but there are bikes in the city, and those didn't make an appearance until the 19th century. Unless this is a piece celebrating the art of role play, which Ellie doubted completely.

"Aw, yes this piece has quite the interesting legend behind it. You see, it tells the tale of a young man not yet twenty-two. He refused the service of a wicked ole witch, and for that was cursed to live forever, stuck in the same age. He watched as his mother, father, brothers, sisters, niece, nephews, passed away. His friends everyone that knew and loved him died, while he stayed the same never changing."

"That's awful," Ellie exclaimed, saddened by the story of the young man. "Is there no magic cure for his curse?"

"He asked countless witches and spiritual persons, they all said the same thing: True loves kiss. At first he laughed and scuffed the idea of love being powerful enough, but over the centuries he became more desperate, so he set out on the search for his true love."

"Did he find her," Ellie asked, becoming enthralled by the story.

"No, as far as we know, he still as not, but remember, my dear, this is just a story," The tour guide reminded her.

"Right, of course. Thank you for the story. Um—do you happen to know what the man's name is?"

"From all I've read about The Waiting Man—Rowan," the tour guide added, before taking her leave to help one of the other many tourist.

Rowan, Ellie thought to herself. What an interesting name. Giving the painting one last glance, she continued walking through the hall. Ellie saw many more art pieces that morning, but her thoughts kept wandering back to the cursed young man in search for his true love. All the heartache and pain he must know.

As she left the museum she was bumped into by a high school student in a rush. "Sorry," he called without turning. Must have a paper due, Ellie thought, remembering her high school days.

"Pardon miss, you seem to have dropped this," a slivery masculine voice called from behind Ellie. Turning she saw the eyes from the painting that has been haunting her thoughts all morning. It can't be.

"Um—I," she mumbled, still in a stage of shock.

"Are you okay?" The man asked, a worry line forming between his brows. He stepped a bit closer. Ellie's glove being held in his strong hand.

She nodded quickly. "I'm sorry. It's just—you look like one of the paintings I just saw in there," she confessed, pointing to the museum behind him.

"Really? Uh, I better check it out," he mused, handing Ellie the glove. When there hands touched lightly during the exchange, she felt a strange zap of electricity.

"Ouch! You shocked me," she laughed, at the statement as it applied to more than just the physical.

"Sorry," he grumbled, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

"Well, I better be off," she told him, but he's still in his trance, so Ellie left without a goodbye and began her walk towards the local park, for lunch. After reaching the end of the block, she hears a bunch of commotion coming from behind.

"Wait, miss, please," a familiar voice gasps.

Ellie turns in time for the man to reach her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and that same little zap pulsed through her. The man smiled widely at that.

"I didn't get a chance to introduce myself, my name is Rowan," the man said.

"Ellie," she replied, unable to hide the smile forming on her lips.

"It's a very nice to meet you," Rowan began, "Are you hungry?"

Ellie nodded. "I was just going to go to the park to get some lunch."

"Would you mind if I join you, then?"

"Not at all, but don't you want to go see that painting of the waiting man," Ellie questioned, raising one of her brows, knowing exactly who it was in front of her.

"No, I've lived it," Rowan tells her, placing her hand on his arm. 

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