In the Garden of Sin
New Story: All Rights Reserved to D. M. Brightwell
“Time is a thief,”
I told him, my eyes filling with tears as the walls I tried so desperately to build, to hold together, came crumbling down in a million pieces.
“Time is a thief and it has stolen everything from me. I cannot stand it anymore.”
His hands shot out, so gently, grabbing my face like I was as delicate as a blossoming flower in the middle of spring.
“Time is a prison for me. It has trapped me in a cell made of bars that are stronger than me. It has forced me to watch those I love and care about fade away into dust.”
Tears poured down my face as I looked up at him and into his steel colored eyes which almost seemed to glow as he stared deeply into mine. I have never felt welcome. Never felt I belonged anywhere but, for the first time, it felt as if, in his hands, this was where I was meant to be.
“Time will not steal me away from you,”
he said gently, quietly, his voice almost trembling.
And then his lips came down slowly upon mine, a kiss laced with more emotion that could possibly be expressed into words and, for once, I no longer felt alone.
