Mike Wheeler has had a very successful career as a fantasy writer- written a whole series, stand alones and many short stories, it is now after this long road, he decides to go on a hiatus for a while.
He finds a nice, secluded little town on a mountain top in Háifoss, Iceland with a gorgeous waterfall view. He stays in this quaint little cabin, close to the edge of the mountain and across from a little farmhouse with a fence and some livestock.
A few days into his stay, Mike sits at his desk in annoyance as he struggles with writers block.
This was his true intent for the hiatus- after publishing his series of fantasy novels about sorcerers and mages defeating dragons in far away lands, there was not much else he desired to write about. He drew a blank. There were more to the stories- more he purposely left out of his books. Some memories he just wasn't willing to share.
Frustrated at his current lack of creativity, he carelessly tosses his glasses onto the desk and rubs his eyes while leaning back in his chair.
As he leans forward, he stares at the blank paper in his old beat up typewriter, shaking his head.
He looks up to admire the view out the window above his desk, and notices a figure move by. A woman. He leaned forward to look closer- she was reaching over the crooked fence to feed the goats, her chestnut brown hair tide into a ponytail, she was wearing dirtied blue jean overalls with a light pink long sleeve underneath, and her bright yellow boots were covered in mud up to her calves.
Suddenly, Mike felt his heart began to speed up. He felt an old, familiar sensation begin to stir in his stomach.
It was light, it was warm, it was a feeling he had not felt in almost 10 years.
10 years, had it really been that long?
That was when the dreadful guilt creeped up the back of his neck.
The guilt he felt every night he closed his eyes, then opened them the next day. The guilt that consumed him anytime he felt joy, anytime he felt alive.
The guilt that he was alive, and she was not.
After a while, it'd become too hard to hold onto to his theory, his hope. His hope that one day he would run into her at a market, or see her across the street at a local cafe. The hope would consume him, then devastate him all over again when inevitably, she was still gone. So, he accepted her decision. And with time, her death. He'd just hoped now that wherever she is, she is at peace.
He lightly shook his head and got back to writing. Jotting down word vomit as his mind was consumed with overwhelming thoughts.
He couldn't- wouldn't allow himself to feel that way about someone else. It wouldn't be fair, not to them. No one could ever be what she was to him.
Before long, the sun begin to set. Mike looked out the window and sighed, another day gone by and not one coherent sentence had been written.
He felt the confinement of the small cabin in his lungs, so he stood up from his chair and walked towards the front door for some fresh air, in hopes of helping clear his head.
As he closed the door behind him, he began to feel it again. The light, the warmth, the undeniable grip on his heart. He slowly turned and took in his surroundings- nothing. He shamefully looked around for the woman he saw before, but she was gone.
Maybe he was overthinking- overwhelmed because it's so close to the anniversary. He's reminiscing.
That's what he convinced himself.
He began his walk to the edge of the mountain, where the suns aura blended with the evening blue sky, creating a breathtaking view.
Mike took a deep breath, he could feel it building. The tears brimming, threatening to spill over. The grief never faltered, nor faded over time. He was just good at hiding it- hiding it around his family, his friends. He never let it boil over.
But this time, he had no fighting chance.
Tears spill and stream down his face as he let's out a devastating sob. His mind starts racing with memories- the first time he saw her in the woods, when he brought her Eggos while hiding her in their basement, their first kiss, when she told him she loved him, and he saved her by saying it back.
He reach into his jackets zipper pocket and pulled out a picture. The same picture he had in his pocket everywhere he went. His first book release, first book signing, every journalist he spoke to- she was always there, against his heart.
He stared closely at the picture, fearing if he didn't admire it enough, it would disappear too. And then she would live only in his memory. He didn't trust his mind to last forever- his greatest fear is she would disappear all together, pictures and memories. Then it'd be as if she never existed at all.
Light. Warmth. All the feelings came flooding back again, it must be because of this. Because of her.
The tap on his shoulder brought him out of his hysteric state. He turned with a fright- and time came to a screeching halt.
His lungs burned for air as his breathing stopped, his puffy, red rimmed his eyes glued to the impossibility in front of him- this had to be his mind playing tricks on him. His grief creating delusions and throwing him into psychosis.
She stood there, clear as that night in the woods where he first laid eyes on her, soaked in that yellow raincoat as the pouring rain clung to their little bodies.
Sporting a pink long sleeve, dirtied blue jean overalls, mud covered bright yellow boots, and her chestnut brown hair now splayed down her shoulders.
It was her. She had tears streaming down her face, she let out a relieved gasp as she realized her own strong feelings- her own delusions were true.
The man that was staying in the cabin across from hers- the same man that she giggled at as he tripped on that damn broken step she'd previously told the owner to fix, splaying his entire suitcase and work book all over the porch- that man was hers.
Time continued to stand still since the two locked eyes- their lungs burning from the lack of breath they refused to let out, neither blinked nor moved. Almost petrified.
Then with an irresistible pull, their bodies finally collided.
Arms flung around one another in a desperate attempt to be closer than what was possible, uncontrollable tears spilling over as guttural sobs broke the silence that was once between them.
Her arms met, tightly gripped around his back while she rested her head against his heaving chest. Hi arm around her body while the other gripped the back of her head with intent to never let go. His head rested on top of hers, wetting her hair with his tears.
Eventually, they both slowly pulled their heads back, desiring to look into each others eyes once again- as if looking for further confirmation this was real.
So many years of pain, grief, loneliness- the dread to get out of bed everyday and live without each other. Neither of them could even remember it now.
The kiss they share in this moment is soft, yet passionate. It is open and shameless- they don't have to hide anymore. They don't ever have to hide again.
The rest of their lives were spent in a place with three waterfalls, a place free from danger- representing their shared longing for a normal life, together.
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