Short Story: Lovestone

Lovestone

In my garden stands a beautiful man in which I lay my eyes upon every day. I sit at his feet and tell stories of the life he has missed out on. I whisper secrets, tell jokes, cry my heart out, and sing. I tell him everything in my thoughts, my darkest secrets, and deepest desires. Everything.

He is my only friend and the only man I have ever loved and ever will.

I pray to the heavens that one day we will meet, but I fear that such a meeting can never be, for my father has caught me many a times with this man. He blames the man with no name for the reasons why I have lacked at my chores and my lessons.

I pray he does not take away my love.

One morning I woke to hear my father outside my room and he spoke words of cold about ridding me of my love.

“What man be human to rid one of their love?” I beg to him in haste before he can leave my doorway.

“I be not simply a man, but a father. And as such I find your infatuations have gone too far for this old heart.”

“But I love--” He raises his hand and glares upon me in such a manner that I cannot go on.

“You can not love something that does not love back.”

“And how can you speak of love?” I spoke in truth and fury. “You! A man who claims to be my father, one in which loved as much as I have--”

“I have loved more passionately than you could ever child. Heed my warning and do not test me!” He spat in rage.

“But your love has died with that of my mother and so you wish not for me to have my own love. I beg of you to see reason!”

“I have and I am ridding this land of that statue.” My father turned and pointed towards the garden in which my love with no name stood smiling. I gasped rushing forward but was abruptly stopped by the guards.

“No! You must let me go. You cannot allow for this travesty to take place!” I cried out, but the men pushed me back into my room shutting and making me a prisoner of my chambers.

I hurried to my balcony to look, in horror, at the men with their tools approaching my love. He who had no name and was defenseless and out of my reach, the man in which I prayed for every night and day every morning and afternoon. His life flashed before my eyes and I thought that death was upon us both. I leaned farther over the balcony screaming to the men to leave him be, but they continue their approach.

“I love you man with no name. I, Rena, love you.” The men began to attack and brought him down by wrapping him with ropes and tearing him apart in front of my eyes. My cries silenced in shear horror. Every detail of his face I could recall, every curve on his body, and the way his clothes folded were perfectly engraved in my memory. I knew I would forever hold him in my thoughts, but I could not help but weep for my loss.

I cried long nights for him and in time stopped as I came to the realization that he was with me still. He was not simply a statue but more. I loved him and that was stronger than stone. He was mine and I was his.

My love’s body was gone, but I still prayed and held hope that one day we would be together.

In a year’s time, my father found that it was time for me to become more of a woman.

I found out my father’s plans to have me wed one winter’s evening as I sat at the stone steps that my love once stood.

A young man walked up to me and sat upon the steps. I held no interest in him, nor did I like that he sat so close, as if we were lovers.

“My lady,” Spoke the man kindly. He was a young lovely man with a strong bone structure, but he was not my love.

I stood about to leave him in silence, but he rose to follow me.

“I am here because you father wishes us to get to know one another and--” I cut him off with a smile and a sigh, for I felt weak and weary of my father.

“Tell my father that I refuse. I do not love you. I am sorry, but I will not love another.” I placed my hand upon my breast and took in the sun.

“I did not say you must love me, but I do ask that you consider. I ask not for your love, but for your partnership.” I coughed slightly.

“Kind sir, I still must turn you down. I will remain untouched”

“You don’t want to escape you father? At least with me you will not be forced to be with someone who will harm you.”

And what would you do? If you shall not love me what is there?

“I will cherish you.”

“I thank you, but I must refuse, for I feel my love will soon come and he is not you.” I walked away coughing and praying.

Days traveled by and my cough grew. I soon could not go to the steps which I had spent my life at and I could no longer sing with my dying voice. Weeks came and went, as well as doctors. No one knew my illness and soon I had become bedridden.

What more was there to do? My life felt small now. The only thing I greatly desired was my love. My statue. I spoke of such to my father and he must have thought me mad. He rushed off with such speed that I feared he would hurt himself

I spelt and woke by my fathers violent shaking and to my amazement my father stood before me with a smile that I had not seen in so long.

“My name is Demetrio and I am the Architect who did the sculpture of the young man that was in your garden.” My eyes fought to keep open as the corner of my lips rose.

“What was…his name…” I asked with little strength.

“Theo. His name was Theo. He was my boy.” The man spoke with sadness. “He passed away of a illness before his twenty third birthday.”

“Theo.” I spoke. It felt right. I tired to catch my breath as I became overwhelmed with joy. My love’s name is Theo. “Now I know…Who to ask…For…”

“Ask Where? Who?” My father asked as tears of joy left me.

“Heaven…” I breathed as the room faded and there was silence.

“Rena.” Came a beautiful voice

My name. I knew it was called. I could hear it clear as day as pain left me and my body felt light. I stood upon the floor and found no trouble breathing or moving around. I could hear a light humming and then song. He was there. I ran down the empty hall and out the door where the garden was. His back was turned as I approached.

“Rena. I have been waiting so long.” He spoke turning. He glowed as I stood before him.

“Me too... Me too.” I whispered.

He held out his hand and I took it.

“I love you Rena and I have listened for so long about your wonderful life. Tell me more.”

“No, it is your turn to tell me something my love.” I smiled gripping onto his hand tightly as he led me away to warmth.


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B. Franklin