For A Love Beyond Words - Prologue of An Upcoming Project

Sana Rose By Sana Rose, 14th Oct 2011 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Short Stories

Meet 8-year old Al, and his best friend 6-year old Gigi... :) This is the beginning of a tender love story that goes beyond words and years... Let's see how it begins - welcome to the Prologue...

Prologue

“Gigi, come over here!” the boy called out in excitement. “There are lots of fish in here!” He squatted down by the stream that gurgled by. It was a stream from the spring some way up there, he knew. And he saw it only during the heavy rains in the monsoon. Gigi joined him by the stream and looked with eyes full of wonder, which faded when she saw what her best friend had just shown her.
“These are no fish,” she said in disappointment and he quickly stood up, upset that he had disappointed her. “These are just baby frogs, Al.”
Baby frogs? He had never heard of them. “They are fish, I'm sure.”
“They are not,” Gigi was stubborn. “Let’s ask Nana.”
Al looked at her, puzzled. She always knew things. She had a wonderful Nana. He didn’t. That was why he didn’t know they weren’t fish. His shoulders slumped. He was eight years old, and Gigi was six. But she could sometimes make him feel like it was the other way round.
“Okay,” he said. “But what if your Nana says they were fish?”
“Then they are fish.” She shrugged and smiled. He liked her when she smiled. She looked like the angel in the blue fairy tale book Nana read to both of them on Sunday afternoons when she smiled. That was his secret thought. She might get angry if he told her that. So he kept the beautiful secret within himself. He smiled back at her as the clouds rolled in and another rain began.
“Come, let’s run home.” He held out his hand to her and she took it. The most natural thing. He liked to feel her smaller hand wedged safely in his and sometimes during their walk home, her little soft fingers would cross with his. “We don’t want to make Nana angry.”
She looked up at him, her eyes twinkling. And he tried to find one thing he didn’t like about Gigi. And he came up with nothing.
“Al, I have a secret,” she said, smiling with all her heart.
At that moment, Al had a weird thought. If there was a feeling more than liking your friend, better than that, he would definitely give it to her. He made it a point to ask her Nana whether there was something like that. Suddenly he started feeling nervous.
“Are you okay?” Gigi asked, her fine eyebrows curving up in worry. She would know. She was holding his hand. “Can I tell you the secret?”
“Tell me,” he said quickly. He wouldn’t miss it for anything in this world.
“You are my best friend,” Gigi said.
“I know that,” he said, wondering whether it was a secret at all.
“But I don’t want anyone else to know that my best friend is a boy,” Gigi said.
Al laughed nervously. “I won’t tell anyone, Gigi,” he said. “And you are my best friend.”
Gigi set her gaze far away, with a slight smile on her tiny doll-like lips, that defined her satisfaction and Al felt proud. He had made her happy. He smiled at the simple realization. They wound their way through the overgrown wet grasses and their feet started to turn cold. They freed their hands and broke into a run, laughing and panting, when the clouds burst into a full rain. For once, they didn’t think of Nana’s reaction when she would see them coming home, all soaked in the rain. Nothing could make them upset right now.
*
Agnes stood in her porch, looking out at the heavy downpour. She couldn’t see the kids anywhere around and she began to panic. It was just that easy. And she paced the porch, her gown brushing the wooden floor. It was time they got back. She hoped they hadn’t gone too far. But as her heart thumped, she knew, something was not right today. She glanced at the rocking chair in the left end of the porch but couldn’t bring herself up to go and sit in it and wait. Waiting was the most difficult thing to do, when you didn’t know what was happening.
She went inside the house and picked up the telephone and dialed a number. What if they had gone over to his house? But just as the phone at the other end began to ring, she heard laughter outside and she hung up before anyone attended. Today she was going to tell them what she thought of children who didn’t listen to elders. Picking up a towel from the bathroom near the kitchen, she went out to the porch. Al and Gigi stood there, dripping and soaking her wooden floor. Gigi’s short hair stuck to her neck and Al glanced up shortly at her and cast his eyes down just as quickly.
“We are sorry,” he said before Agnes could say anything. “It rained suddenly.”
“It always does, Al,” Agnes said, with a sigh and stepped forward to dry their hairs.
“You are not angry with us, Nana, are you?” Gigi asked. Her brown eyes were filled with uncertainty and Agnes felt a tug in the deepest part of her heart. Leave it to Gigi to be so certain and uncertain at the same time.
“No, honey,” Agnes replied as she dried her granddaughter’s soft curls. Gigi made a bland sound that vibrated when her Nana dried her hair, shaking her head. Gigi loved it. She leaned onto Agnes wanting to feel warm. “Okay, go in and change your dress.”
Gigi hopped her way in and Agnes turned to Al, standing in front of her, suddenly looking so frail and fragile. “Come on, let me dry your hair,” Agnes said. “Before you get sick.”
Al obediently stepped forward and let Agnes towel his head. He didn’t lean on to her. She was not his grandmother. She was Gigi’s. She was not his mother. He had no mother. She was his teacher. She was the closest thing to a mother he had. But she was older than his mother would have been, if she were there now. He closed his eyes when the tears came up. He hated crying. Girls cried. He should not. People would think he was an idiot. He brought his hands up and pressed the towel hanging over his face and dried the tears that had streamed down, before Agnes took off the towel and said, “Here you go.” And caught him crying.
“I will get you an old pair of trousers,” Agnes said. “Is that okay? And you can use one of Gigi’s sweaters.”
“Okay,” Al replied, avoiding looking at his elderly teacher. He padded along behind her into the house and went over to the blazing hearth. He held out his hands to warm them. Agnes came back with a pair of trousers that were oversized for him, but he would hold it together for some time, until his clothes were dried. He took them from her silently and went to the bathroom. Just when he was entering the bathroom, Gigi came out of her room calling out for him.
“I'm going to change,” Al said and slipped in and shut the door quickly. Inside the bathroom, he cried a little as he changed into the clothes Agnes had handed him. When he came out, Gigi was standing just outside the bathroom door.
“Nana has baked us cookies to have with chocolate,” she said. “Come with me.”
Gigi led him to the kitchen and he followed, his soaked clothes still in his arm.
“Give me those,” Agnes told him and he handed the clothes to her. She took them to the laundry room to turn on the drier. Al settled into a chair opposite Gigi, across the table.
“You like these, don’t you?” She always said it like that. She said it, then asked whether it was so. “Nana knows you like cashew cookies.”
“My favourite,” he said. “What’s yours?”
“Chocolate, but this is okay,” she replied. “I like this, too.” She smiled at him again and he knew she liked it because it was her best friend’s favourite. He smiled back slowly.
Their happy moment was interrupted by the sound of a car outside. The rumbling stopped and a door opened and slammed shut and footsteps made a scrunching noise in the gravel in the yard.
“There’s someone out there, Nana,” Gigi called out. Al fell silent and looked pale. He already knew. He stared at Gigi, feeling helpless. Something began tumbling down inside him. He saw Agnes pass by them to the living room and the porch to meet the visitor.
“What?” Gigi asked. “Are you all right?” She had been asking this a lot of times today. And he had been lying the whole day that he was all right.
He got up and crossed the space to Gigi.
“I'm your best friend, right?” he asked.
“Yes, I told you, are you going to tell that to anyone?”
“No,” he shook his head and grabbed her hand. “Promise me you will be my best friend always.”
Gigi gazed at him for a moment and then said, “I promise.”
“Will you forget me?” he asked feeling desperate.
“But we see every day! How will I forget you?” Gigi looked confused.
Agnes came in to the kitchen. She looked… sad. They could pick it up so fast.
“Al, your father is here to pick you,” she said. He saw his father come up behind Agnes.
“Here you are, Al,” his father said looking serious. He didn’t seem to see Gigi, standing near Al. Gigi gently pulled her hand out of Al’s and stepped back a little.
“Come on, Al,” his father said. “We are already late for the train.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Al said, staring down at his feet. “I don’t want to.”
“Let’s not discuss it here, Al,” his father’s voice was the calm one that scared him.
“Listen to your father, Al,” Agnes said, without looking at him. “I will get some cookies packed for you. There are plenty.”
She thought it was the cookies. He glanced sideways at Gigi who looked totally puzzled.
“Where are you going?” Gigi whispered tears already making their way into her chocolate brown eyes.
Al shrugged. “I will come back tomorrow,” he said and he walked to his father without another word. How long did tomorrow mean, he didn’t know. He was too young to understand that but old enough to know that his father meant years when he said soon. They would return soon, his father had said. Or never.
He dared to glance back at Gigi once just before he got into his father’s car. And it broke something inside him as he watched her stare back at him, puzzled and yet, hopeful, standing in the porch, next to Agnes. Certain that she would see him the next day. Uncertain about why his father had taken him when they were having Nana’s freshly baked Cashew cookies. They were Al’s favourite, after all, that would be what she was thinking. He didn’t know whether it was the rain or his tears that blurred her image as the car sped off Mrs. Agnes’ yard. But he knew, a part of him was gone.

***

Author's Note:

Dear Reader,
This is, as you know, an upcoming project that is under progress. For A Love Beyond Words is a story of young love, of the bonds that last for a life time, of remembering childhood dreams and a journey back to regain what you left behind.
It would mean so much if you could leave a comment about how you like this prologue. Whether you would want to read a book that begins with this prologue. And anything you like or don't like in it. :) I need to make it perfect.
Thank you.
Love Always,
Sana

Tags

Beyond, Fiction, Love Story, Novels, Prologue, Words

Meet the author

author avatar Sana Rose
A medical student with a love story with the pen since I was thirteen. Published poet at 22 and has completed a second collection and my first novel. Visit me at: www.sanarose.com

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Comments

author avatar GV Rama Rao
15th Oct 2011 (#)

OK, here is the feedback.
1. You sure are a good story teller.
2. The book shows promise of a fine book of fiction.
3. For a prologue, it's too long. You may as well call this chapter one. There is no need for a prologue for every book.
4. There is a competition called novel writing in a month competition. It starts midnight !st Nov Local time and finishes 30th Nov at midnight. In this period you have to write a novel of 50K words. It can be the first draft. If you succeed you get a certificate and badge which you can put on your letterhead or visiting card. The badge helps when your book goes round the publishers or agents. For details go to www..nanowrimo.org and register soon. Incidentally I won this for the last three years. I have two books published and one is due any day now. Wish you good luck in your endeavors.

Reply to this comment

author avatar GV Rama Rao
15th Oct 2011 (#)

OK, here is the feedback.
1. You sure are a good story teller.
2. The book shows promise of a fine book of fiction.
3. For a prologue, it's too long. You may as well call this chapter one. There is no need for a prologue for every book.
4. There is a competition called novel writing in a month competition. It starts midnight !st Nov Local time and finishes 30th Nov at midnight. In this period you have to write a novel of 50K words. It can be the first draft. If you succeed you get a certificate and badge which you can put on your letterhead or visiting card. The badge helps when your book goes round the publishers or agents. For details go to www..nanowrimo.org and register soon. Incidentally I won this for the last three years. I have two books published and one is due any day now. Wish you good luck in your endeavors.

Reply to this comment

author avatar Buzz
15th Oct 2011 (#)

Enjoyed reading your page, sana. Thanks for sharing.

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author avatar Heslin
16th Oct 2011 (#)

well..the prologue is not bad..i always like the innoncence of kids(and everyone does!.. :-) ).but i felt that this topic is a usual one.mostly one always know what's gonna happen next..i'm not telling to change the topic...but make that this one stands out from others.(u know i luv difference n individuality!!)...And surely you can!!! All the best

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author avatar Songbird B
12th Nov 2011 (#)

I thought that it showed great promise and developed the characters really well so that you could connect emotionally to them. This is the start of a fine story Sana...and one that I will happily follow..

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