by I.D. Blind
~ * ~
Eric was sitting at the bus stop, thinking about the past months of his life. Now, looking back at the events, he doubted his common sense. Did it all happen? Or was it just a dream? Maybe he was still sleeping at the bus stop and just needed to wake up and look at the note with the route. Eric looked at the burns inside his palms that had cicatrized into net-like scars, serving as a memory of the dreadful night in the forest.
The bus soon appeared on the horizon, and getting on it, Eric took a seat near the window.
The blue bus drove away. Eric looked at the broad meadows and fields that were slumbering peacefully under the blue sky. He looked at the sinuous gorges, grazing animals, and brick houses. He couldn’t stop staring out the window; he wanted to remember each tree and field, each brook and gorge. He felt miserable, as if something important and irreplaceable was painfully cut out of his life.
Eric looked down at the book in his hand. It was a gift from Electra. He ran his fingers over the old binding, opened the book somewhere in the middle, and read the first thing his eyes caught:
And fare-thee-weel, my only Luve!
And fare-thee-weel, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' 'twere ten thousand mile!
About the Author
I.D. Blind was born and raised in Armenia and still lives in her beautiful country, writing in a third language for readers who, like her, love witches, magic, and Celtic music. Email her at [email protected]. She is always happy to hear from her readers.
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