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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/659848-Stella
Rated: 13+ · Preface · Other · #659848
just a little story
Stella sat up on her bed, the covers carelessly tossed to the floor by another tumultuous night of sleep. The nightmares reflected just how alone she was. There was no man, no family, not even as much as a hamster to talk to. Her thoughts of finding love echoed like the pendulum of a Grandfather clock… tick, tick, ticking away the seconds in her desperate life.

Happiness was a whisper at a rock concert and the band wasn’t playing her song. Lately the tune of her life was played by a group of kids with homemade, pie tin instruments; music that only proud parents said they loved at the elementary musical program. Stella has hopes of one day attending such functions, if she can find the conductor of her lyrical heart.

From her bed Stella had a glimpse of the world that she lived in. The leaves of the maple tree looked to be floating in the gentle breeze. The blue jay was perched and singing to his mate. The colorful rainbow punctuated the beautiful postcard view. She also could hear as life passed her by in all sorts of vehicles.

She heard a distant honking. Was it a motorist signaling to a pedestrian; was it a friendly greeting from car to man; was it accidentally bumped by the driver? Does it matter? The noise removed Stella from her blank stare bringing some color back into her irises. If Stella could only look into those eyes, those gold-specked hazel eyes, like I do, she would see her life played out in the large screen of my dreams; my dreams of being her man.

My ongoing fantasy stems from the weekend where I did more than look into her eyes. Only a blink of time in the scheme of things but it takes more than one word to write a novel. Stella wasn’t just any novel, she wasn’t the figment of any writer’s imagination; she was a living, breathing, walking, talking and beautiful warm blooded person.
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