As you could probably tell from my sparse posts on the blog, my writing has been stalled for a while. Yesterday, however, I ran across a prompt that sparked my imagination, so I started writing a story from it. I finished just a short portion of chapter one and posted it on Facebook. The response was surprising and has encouraged me to keep going with the story. Here's the first part of the story that was posted on FB yesterday...
Tears
filled her eyes. She kissed me softly on the cheek and with that, she walked
into the rain and didn’t look back. That was the last time anyone ever saw her.
Until now.
Even
half a block away, I knew it was her. The walk, the way she carried herself. My
heart beat faster. My mind resisting the hope welling up inside me. It was her
and she was looking straight at me. Closer now, no smile on her face and a
hardness in her eyes. No recognition on her part, but I knew. I had finally
found Lizette.
I
stopped. My feet refusing to take another step. She drew closer but averted her
eyes, and when she reached me, she just walked on by without so much as a nod
of acknowledgement. I turned to see her cross the street and take a seat at one
of the sidewalk bistro tables outside of my hotel.
I
stood staring, waiting for her to look up. She never did. Was it really her or
did I just want for it to be her so badly that my mind wouldn’t let go of its
surety? I crossed the street and took a table next to her. If I heard her speak
I would know for sure. When the waiter came to take her order, she didn’t say a
word, just pointed out what she wanted. I ordered a coffee and nursed it while
she ate her meal. Never once did she look my way. I shoved hope back down
inside me. It wasn’t her.
When
she rose to leave after she finished her pastry and coffee, Her heel caught in
the grate and she stumbled. I jumped to my feet and caught her around the waist.
She turned in my arms, a feeling so familiar that it set my heart racing again. It
had to be her. Her name slipped from my lips, “Lizette.”
A
flicker of recognition sparked in her eyes, then disappeared just as quickly.
She shook her head, pushed herself out of my arms and walked away.
I
sat back down, ordered a sandwich and something a little stronger to drink,
unable to shake the feeling that it was Lizette. Thirty minutes later, when I
reached into my jacket pocket to pay for my meal, I found a key to room 221 at
Hotel Miteux, a seedy little hotel on the shady side of town. She must have slipped the key into my pocket when she stumbled into my arms. “Lizette –
finally, I had found her and finally I would get some answers!”
That's were I stopped yesterday, which did not make people happy. They wanted more. Today I finished chapter one. I'll post it below and post subsequent chapters as I write them. I have no title for this story and I have no idea about what will happen next. I'm letting the story and the characters reveal it to me as I go. We'll see what happens together. Now, here's the rest of chapter one...
As
I made my way toward Hotel Miteux, it started to drizzle. I pulled the collar
on my jacket up around my neck and picked up the pace. I hate rain. You can
imagine why. My thoughts were on the day she left. There had been no indication
that she was unhappy. No quarrels, not even any disagreements. We were just
finishing up a two-week vacation in Paris where we had fallen in love all over
again. Our engagement had been too long and had plateaued the relationship, but
Paris sparked it again. At the foot of the Eiffel Tower, in the pouring rain, I
proposed to her a second time. Cliché, I know, but the moment was right and my
heart was so full of longing for her.
Waiting
had been hard, but we both wanted God’s blessing on our marriage, so, we
resisted intimacy. She threw her arms around my neck. “Yes, silly, I will marry
you.” I kissed her. A kiss that left both of us breathless. In the emotion of
the moment, Lizette said, “Charles, let’s not wait.” I swallowed hard. She
continued, “Let’s get married here in Paris. Right away. Today!”
She
didn’t have to ask twice. We returned to the hotel and I left her at the door
of her room. “I’ll find out what we need to do and be back as soon as possible.”
A
quick kiss and I was off.
I returned
an hour later with disappointing news. To be married in Paris, at least one of
the parties must reside there for a minimum of 40 days. I wasn’t sure how to break
it to her. I didn’t want to break it to her. I wanted to be married now.
In
the end, it didn’t matter. When I
knocked on Lizette’s door, there was no answer. I knocked several times until I
got worried that something had happened to her, so I went to the lobby and
convinced the desk clerk to send someone with a key to check on her. When they opened the door, I was stunned. The
room was empty. Not only was Lizette gone, so was everything she had brought
with her. Clothes, jewelry, suitcases…everything.
I
went back to the lobby and asked the desk clerk if she had checked out. “No,
sir.” He hesitated, then added, “But when she left, she did ask for directions
to Gare du Nord.”
The
train station? Why would she have asked for directions to the train station?
Was she going home to London? What had happened in the hour I had been gone?
I
caught the next taxi I saw and spent the 40 minutes it took to get to the
station going over every possible explanation for Lizette’s disappearance. When
the cab came to a stop I paid the driver and sprinted toward the door of the
station, but stopped short when I spotted Lizette walking down the sidewalk
away from me. I called out her name and she stopped, but didn’t turn or look
back. I ran to catch up to her, wondering where her luggage was, because she
wasn’t carrying it, and why was she walking away from the station?
Once
I reached her, I threw all those questions and more at her, but she didn’t
answer any of them. She simply put a finger to my lips to stop the barrage of
questions. “Charles, I can’t marry you and I can’t explain why.”
My
brain felt like a tornado was whirling around in it. Nothing made sense. “What?
Why? What’s happened?” I stammered.
She
interrupted. “Charles, if you love me and if you want to keep me safe, you will
let me go. My life depends on it. If and when I can explain I will. Until then,
you must forget about me.”
Tears
filled her eyes and it was then that she kissed me softly on the cheek and
whispered, “Pray for me,” then walked away into the Paris rain. She didn’t even
look back.
I
was too stunned to go after her. Frozen in place by the possibility that if I
did, it might bring her harm – injury – even death. That was the last anyone had
seen of her. She had never returned to London and in the many trips I had made
to Paris looking for her, I had never been able to find a trace. Until
today.
I
finally arrived at Hotel Miteux, drenched to the bone, but
excited to see her again. Standing before the door of room 221 my heart
pounding in my chest, I took a deep breath and knocked. No answer. I knocked
again. Still no answer. The hair on the back of my neck began to prickle and a
vivid sense of déjà vu swept over me. At least this time I had a key. I
inserted it and let the door swing open on its own. What I saw there nearly knocked me to the
floor.
More to come as Charles and Lizette let me in on what's happening.
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