The horizon never quite looked this good. I was sure of it. I looked out at the watercolored hues meshed together in perfect harmony- pink swirled with the fairest shades of orange and purple. Dark purple clouds loomed nearby threatening the dawning stars. The brilliance of the sun struggled to hang on as it fell closer and closer to its nightly doom.

I felt at peace. That didn’t happen often. But somehow as the afternoon faded into dusk, everything seemed to fall into place. Even the way the cold glass was neutral beneath my touch seemed right. I could see like I’d never saw the world before. I could feel like I’d never touched before this moment. It was oddly fitting how this all turned around.

I never felt alive more than I did right now. Funny how he fought this with every fiber of his being. Tried to push me away and tried to make me see the light. Now that we had eternity together, maybe I could make him see there was no other place I’d rather be than with him. Nothing would keep me from doing just that. Not now, and not ever.

Music drifted around me. The strings and soft piano sang to my soul, lulling me take my eyes off the ever disappearing horizon and sway over to the open book on the desk. It was black, high gloss, the pages bound in red at the spine and hardcover to protect the precious story between them. My fingers danced over the words, lovingly written in plain scrawl. Easy to read. Mesmerizing with each word. Emotion that captivated you and pulled you into the scenes. I read every word with rapt fascination and fingered the pages with tender loving care.

It was the story of my life. The life I had before I became eternal. Those moments were few and far between in my memory but this… I touched the book and longed to remember. This was how I came to be. How we came to be. There was only one thing more precious to me than this.

And that was him.

I lifted the book into my opened hand and walked back to the window. The light was fading out. Night had approached. Soon the moon would sparkle over the creek. The starts would splatter against the black, shimmering like a million diamonds in the sky. Though my heart no longer beat, my breathing caught as I realized I was towards the end. It would soon be upon me again. The end of the life I’d been skimming before him. 

I looked out over the sky. It may be the end of the memoirs, oh, but it was only the beginning of my dreams. 

©cpt

As the stars start to come out over the horizon on Friday night, I will be at my local bookstore dancing like I’ve got ants in my pants for the highly anticipated release of Breaking Dawn (the fourth installment of the Twilight Saga and the ending of the story through the heroine, Bella, POV.)  by Stephanie Meyer. I have mixed feelings about reading the end. I know it’s not the end for them. Even if Stephanie Meyer never wrote another word of them, they would live on in my mind. They would haunt the fringes of my dreams and invade my daydreaming space. The relationship between the heroine and the hero is just so tangible, so real, so breathtaking and beautiful. I find myself forgetting to breathe during certain parts because you feel like you’re a voyeur on the scene and one breath will expose you and ruin it.

So today is a fairly easy question for everyone who didn’t make it to Nationals (we’ll just go next year!). Has a scene or a book just swept you away to the point it was all you could think about? How about writing that scene? What makes the deepest impressions on you?