TITLE: "How Ironic"
AUTHOR: Scarlet
RATING: G
CATEGORY: MSR: pure poetic fluff
SPOILERS: nada
SUMMARY: Scully spends a thought filled evening with
Mulder
ARCHIVE: You simply couldn't make me happier, I just
ask to know where it's going.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Very short and sweet, but it gets the
point across. I intentionally left a bit up to your
own imagination but please enjoy it anyway!
E-MAIL: You would absolutely make my day by dropping
me a line!!! g_woman_678@yahoo.com
DISCLAIMER: If I really owned these wonderful
characters, and not Chris Carter, 1013, David and
Gillian, don't you think I'd be tanning right now
somewhere in the South Pacific?
*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*
A December flake slams against my frosted window.
Darkness sparkles around its frilled edges,
transforming its random geometry into that of an
expertly cut diamond. It slowly begins its descent
down the glass and unintentionally trails its perfect
sculpture in a wake of droplets. My eyes follow its
reluctant path until it pauses at the window sill, too
exhausted to continue further.
The flame in my fireplace pops noisily against its
wooden victim; and I sigh: content with the knowledge
that even it is not as warm as I am. Burning orange
fingers straining skyward only to retreat back to the
safety of its base, painting a more haunting image
than any artist's brush could describe.
Fire and Ice: two such contrasting universals-
existing seperately, yet both in need of the other.
Surviving and flurishing in the same world as life and
death, light and dark, love and loneliness.
Loneliness? Ahh, loneliness: a definitive word whose
symptoms I've not known for what seems a lifetime. But
it *has* been a lifetime- a rebirth- into something
without definition, only realizations.
I shiver now. Not from fear. Not from intimidation.
And heaven knows, not from a chill. But from the
sudden aknowledgement that time has stopped.
For us.
The clock on my wall clicks away, but its purpose is
useless. As surely as I once felt the slaughter of
every second, I now have lost track of the hours.
Your soft breath whispers across my collar bone and
your lips land somewhere within that lingering caress.
A slow trail of feathery surrenders makes my heart
pause for a moment too long- allowing me to float
above the clouds in a suspended second of eternity.
This moment, as every moment I spend with you,
crystalizes effortlessly- building to construct an
earthly Heaven. Yet what I feel is anything but
earthly; it's unique, strange, alien to anything I've
ever known... I smile, knowing how you'd appreciate my
choice of words. But no language in the world has yet
found a word for it, only sensations. And this
sensation is Heaven on a Sunday.
I feel you smile against me as though you can read my
thoughts. But even that, time has taught me not to
rule out when it comes to you.
Lazily, I turn just enough to bring your beautiful
face into focus. Your hazel eyes are dark but they
seem to glow with, yet again, a serene, unidentifible
truth. But what I find myself hypnotized by is far
superior to anything I've ever noticed in your eyes.
The colors have shifted, now enticing a thousand
kisses to dance in their shadows. And I am enchanted
with its delicate boldness.
Has there ever been so real a dream? If not, I pity
those who have missed its firey dalliance. I suddenly
panic with the horror that I may wake to find it only
a vision. And suddenly I want nothing more than the
assurance that our dreams have crossed into a
sleepless reality.
Forget the world. Forget all the obligations, all the
requirements, all the expectations, all the ice and
fire at the fate of longing, and all the people
trapped inside; and tell me you love me.
Words that were always so unneccessary a luxury for
us, is the only thing I lack now.
But you need no coaching, no bribing, no hints of what
or how or when because you know me.
And you tell me. And I smile.
THE END... OR IS IT JUST THE BEGINNING
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