Lucid Waking

The arts of BNielsen

En Bateau (from the Petit Suite) by Claude Debussy

        She was sitting on the boat with her parasol over one shoulder, her hand dipped gracefully into the sun-warmed water. He stopped on the banks and sat down to watch her. The boy in the boat rowed gently disturbing the water where the sunflowers reflected. The ripples smeared the green of the trees. She sighed daintily and once the boated bumped the shore, she paid the boy in the boat and started to climb out. He walked over to her to give her a hand.
         “Oh, thank you,” she said quietly. She blushed deeply.
         He gave her a shallow bow and moved aside. She walked through the trees, gazing at each one with her large blue eyes. He walked besides her, saying nothing. A warm breeze danced in her hair as she held the parasol closer to her shoulder and twirled it, humming softly.
        The trees tapered off from the side of the road. On the left luscious grass waved in the breeze and glowed in the sun. On her right was the sparkling river. She followed the path until she reached a small gazebo that was sitting a little ways off the path in the grass. She sat down on a bench and patted the seat next to her. He sat down.
        “How are you?” she asked.
        “Well,” he said. “And yourself?”
        “Good,” she smiled. “How’s the races?”
        “Daisy Mae is still a strong horse.”
        “That’s good. Are you thinking of selling her?”
        “I didn’t think a lady such as yourself would be interested in buying.”
        “Oh,” she blushed. “My brother wants to invest.”
        “I don’t think I’m the right person to ask,” he said.
        “Well, it was just small talk, anyway. I really want to know why you’ve been following me this past week.”
        He gave a nervous chuckle. “Your brother seems to suspect something.”
        “Of me?”
        “No, but I probably shouldn’t speak about it here.”
        “Ah, he’s thinking about him again, isn’t he?”
        “That has crossed his mind, yes.”
        “Then you should tell him that Edward is a very respectable young man and does not, indeed, want to kill me.”
        “I’d believe you, except for the fact that he was found with several weapons in his possession the last time I worked with the sheriff.”
        “Well, goodness! That’s because he works in the black market. You men are so jumpy!”
        “When it comes to you, your highness. Of course.”
        “Well, in any case. I’m not going to let this ruin my day. I think there’s nothing wrong and I don’t want you following me so close!”
        He bowed deeply and stepped out of the gazibo and down the path the way she had come. She watched him go and sighed. The sun glowed in her hair as she placed the parasol over her shoulder and took her leave down the path.

(Ecouter)

This entry was posted on Saturday, April 5th, 2008 at 10:10 am and is filed under Fiction Prose, Realistic Fiction. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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