Kisses from the Grave - Chapter Two (standard:Ghost stories, 1938 words) [2/8] show all parts
Author: kissofthehungry	Added: Jan 16 2005	Views/Reads: 2904/2185	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Mark is about to find that there are wonders in the world that can provide healing to the hurt soul, though the house still harbors its' secrets.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

condition.  Carefully, not fully trusting it's supports, he placed his 
feet in the center and gripped the rope.  Then he began to swing back 
and forth when a strange gust of wind blew from the marsh and bathed 
him in the rich aroma of moist earth. 

His eyes were drawn to the tall, swaying grasses and he could hear ducks
eagerly talking to each other.  Then he noticed the grasses parting, as 
if something large were making it's way out at him.  Holding his 
breath, he feared what may be emerging.  His breath came out in a 
whoosh of relief when a tall blonde girl and her dog appeared. 

The girl was stunning, making him suddenly forget Michelle and her
leaving him.  Her eyes were a brilliant blue, almost the color of the 
sky and her hair was a gorgeous golden color that reflected the sun and 
shone different shades.  She wore a white sundress with spaghetti 
straps and little blue daises and bows decorating the hem and collar of 
her dress.  In her hair was a little white daisy.  There was something 
sweetly innocent about her and when she smiled, his knees went to 
rubber and he steopped down from the swing. 

"Hello," he grinned and again, she smiled, making him forget about
everything in general. 

"Hello," she replied and stroked the top of the massive dog at her side.
 The dog, a German Shepard, stood to her hip with a chest as thick as a 
barrel.  His saddle colors were beautiful and shone as brightly as his 
master's hair. 

"Um, I'm Mark.  I just moved in here," he gestured towards the house and
noted how she followed his gaze with almost downcast eyes.  He wondered 
why. 

Her voice was so soft and gentle, "Yes, I know that you have moved in
there.  I am Desiree and this is Poka."  There was something that made 
her blue eyes cloud and he longed to make her feel better.  Then he 
felt guilty after all he had been through.  His best friend had died 
only a month ago and here he was, letting lust rule his thinking. 

"He's beautiful," the urge to add so was she lingered at the tip of his
tongue but he shoved it aside.  There were times and places for such 
comments, this was not one of them.  The cloud in her eyes was still 
troubling him though so he had to ask, "What is wrong?" 

"Wrong?" she smiled softly and looked down at Poka, "Everything is just
as it should be with me.  Yet, I don't believe the same is true for 
you.  Something bothers you, tell me, what is it?" 

Her eyes were so penetrating and full of concern that he spilled his
guts, "I was an idiot, a complete stupid jack ass and it cost me 
everything.  My best friend and I decided to race another friend with 
his buddies.  I didn't know it but he was under the influence, big 
time.  He lost control of the car and slammed into me.  He died and his 
girlfriend did.  One of the passengers is in a coma, never expected to 
wake up, yet his girlfriend walked away with only broken limbs.  My 
best friend, Benny, didn't make it.  I spent his last moments holding 
his hand and listening to him cry.  It tore me apart, it's tearing me 
apart.  I lost my brother to stupidity."  Quickly, he squeezed his eyes 
shut, trying to block the boiling hot tears that pressed behind his 
lids. 

Then he felt a soft brush on his hand and opened his eyes.  Those blue
eyes were so close to him that he forgot to breathe.  Suddenly, her 
arms were around him, holding him close to her.  For a moment, he just 
stood there like a dunce, then he wrapped his arms around her, savoring 
the embrace.  The tears fell but she merely held him, rubbing his back, 
giving him the comfort that he so desperately needed.  Not once since 
it had happened had anyone just held him, allowing him to cry and let 
out his grief. 

His knees bent and he collapsed to them on the ground and she went with
him, never letting him go.  The dog, Poka, who had patiently been 
sitting sunddenly pounced, drowning him in dog kisses, making him laugh 
and protest, trying desperately to keep his face dry. 

"Thank you," he whispered, pulling away from her so that he could look
at her face. 

A sad grin tipped her lips and made her eyes crinkle at the corners, "It
is the least I can do for you.  You have good reason to look so sad."  
Not really aware of what he was doing, he raised a hand and cupped her 
face.  Her skin was so soft and warm, her lips inviting.  Without a 
second thought about Michelle, he leaned over and kissed her tenderly.  
It was returned with a passion he'd never felt with anyone else. 

"Mark, break's over.  I need your help with the unpacking," his mother
called, at the most inopportune time.  Frustrated, he pulled back and 
Desiree smiled shyly, her cheeks red with blush.  Smiling back, he 
lifted a strand of hair off her face and back behind her ear. 

"I've never kissed a girl I just met, I promise," he laughed and she
laughed with him, making his heart soar.  Once more, he was wracked 
with guilt.  How could he be thinking about romance and the more 
physical aspects of a relationship when Benny had just died?  It didn't 
seem right and seemed disrespectful somehow but he couldn't help it. 

"I've never kissed a boy I just met either," she grinned, "I have a
question." 

"Go ahead, ask me," he almost begged, full of curiosity, his mind
milling over the possiblities. 

"If I asked you to follow me, would you?" her voice carried a heavy tone
of sadness and he cocked his eye at her.  What in the world did she 
mean by that?  Follow her? 

Despite his bewilderment, he answered only as he could, "Of course I
would.  I would follow you anywhere."  She nodded appreciatively then 
his mother yelled again for him to come.  Kicking her mentally for her 
bad timing, he kissed Desiree again, loving the way her lips felt 
against his.  Then he bade her his farewells, swearing that they would 
meet again.  When he asked her when and where he would see her again, 
she told him to merely come to the tire swing and she would find him. 

Unpacking was so much easier with thoughts of her dancing in his mind. 
It wasn't hard to work with the knowledge that when he was done there 
was a good chance of seeing her again.  A good chance of kissing her, 
touching her, talking to her once more.  The very thought made his 
insides feel like they were swelling and that he might burst from the 
emotions looming within him.  This was the way caring for someone 
should feel like.  His previous life seemed years away from him and he 
didn't mind.


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