Title: Dark Room
Rating: PG13
Status of the list: 1/100
Prompt used: #27 - Dark
Author's note: This small piece is the rewrite of a story that I started when I was 18, about an adulterous woman who gets pregnant, and the child is her lover's. I only wrote about 10.000 (rather bad) words on it and let it go, but it was the first thing to come to my mind when I read through the prompts.
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Dark Room
The first thing he sees as he opens the door to the darkened room is a light. The small point, the tiny proof of her existence, right there in front of his eyes.
(she was always accompanied by a carton of cigarettes)
The moonlight that comes through the window doesn’t let him see a lot more; he can only discern the shadows of her face, with the full lips he so lovingly likes to devour, the slightly upwards-tipped nose that he adores so much. There’s not one detail in her face that he doesn’t like, and he finds himself searching for her face in the darkness, wanting to see it all, worship it for just a moment.
(the sunlight coming through that same window, his hands around her face as she laughs like a child, dimples on her cheeks and her eyes almost closed. picture perfect)
And then he sees tears and becomes unable to move, his body paralyzed by the door as she pulls the smoke form her cigarette vigorously.
I’m going to have to give this up.
What? No. He doesn’t move, his muscles so tense that he expects them to rip apart at any moment.
Whose child is it?
(it’s all he can ask, and it’s so little. but still, it’s the logical question)
She laughs quietly, and as she turns her face towards the window, he can finally see her profile against the light. She looks even more sovereign when seen like that, while he feels more and more like a young man, a child who has just been told the world is about to end or to begin, no one is sure.
It’s not Henry’s, that’s for sure.
One muscle, then two, then the whole leg. One step towards the chair as he drops his coat and his briefcase. A couple more steps around the bed and he’s in front of her.
(the day they met, the ice cream on her hand and the sight of her wedding ring. oh, she’s married, but then she’s in his bed and he’s not sure of what has happened. all he knows is that he’s glad that he can hold her and feel her and smell her)
His hand takes the cigarette from her mouth, and she doesn’t protest. He takes a small glass of water from the table and drops it inside as she watches intently, and suddenly there’s no turning back.
She takes his hand and brings it to her face, as she turns to face the moonlight.
I hope she has your eyes.
Dark Room
The first thing he sees as he opens the door to the darkened room is a light. The small point, the tiny proof of her existence, right there in front of his eyes.
(she was always accompanied by a carton of cigarettes)
The moonlight that comes through the window doesn’t let him see a lot more; he can only discern the shadows of her face, with the full lips he so lovingly likes to devour, the slightly upwards-tipped nose that he adores so much. There’s not one detail in her face that he doesn’t like, and he finds himself searching for her face in the darkness, wanting to see it all, worship it for just a moment.
(the sunlight coming through that same window, his hands around her face as she laughs like a child, dimples on her cheeks and her eyes almost closed. picture perfect)
And then he sees tears and becomes unable to move, his body paralyzed by the door as she pulls the smoke form her cigarette vigorously.
I’m going to have to give this up.
What? No. He doesn’t move, his muscles so tense that he expects them to rip apart at any moment.
Whose child is it?
(it’s all he can ask, and it’s so little. but still, it’s the logical question)
She laughs quietly, and as she turns her face towards the window, he can finally see her profile against the light. She looks even more sovereign when seen like that, while he feels more and more like a young man, a child who has just been told the world is about to end or to begin, no one is sure.
It’s not Henry’s, that’s for sure.
One muscle, then two, then the whole leg. One step towards the chair as he drops his coat and his briefcase. A couple more steps around the bed and he’s in front of her.
(the day they met, the ice cream on her hand and the sight of her wedding ring. oh, she’s married, but then she’s in his bed and he’s not sure of what has happened. all he knows is that he’s glad that he can hold her and feel her and smell her)
His hand takes the cigarette from her mouth, and she doesn’t protest. He takes a small glass of water from the table and drops it inside as she watches intently, and suddenly there’s no turning back.
She takes his hand and brings it to her face, as she turns to face the moonlight.
I hope she has your eyes.
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