Diary extract No. 13
They were all there, the soldiers, with their gleaming brass buttons and perfectly ironed uniforms. They stood rigid and their shoes shone from hours of polishing. And there was tarte au sucre bruxelloise, which is my very favourite because the sugar melts and sticks to my fingers and teeth. There was music, too--Slow Waltzes and Waltzes that enchanted everyone to dance across the floor. It was something like Magic, although I am horridly clumsy when it comes to dancing with a partner. (Despite Grandmum's attempts to make me otherwise.) But my soldier had a kind smile and amused eyes that glittered with Something I cannot name. He reminded me of Papa when he tries not to laugh aloud.
He told me all the things I know of soldiers. He whispered fondly of Bravery and Loyalty and Adventure and carefully of Blood and Death and Fear and Hate. But then his voice was very small when we weaved through the dancing couples out to where the Moon watches carefully. I must have looked quite tiny standing next to him, for I felt as though I was as small as Thumbelina living in her rose. There was a letter in his pocket--crinkled with worn edges as though it had been read a thousand times--and he unfolded it with careful hands. Exactly one word was penned across the paper.
He told me then of Thole.
A charming soldier swept me off my feet tonight.
They were all there, the soldiers, with their gleaming brass buttons and perfectly ironed uniforms. They stood rigid and their shoes shone from hours of polishing. And there was tarte au sucre bruxelloise, which is my very favourite because the sugar melts and sticks to my fingers and teeth. There was music, too--Slow Waltzes and Waltzes that enchanted everyone to dance across the floor. It was something like Magic, although I am horridly clumsy when it comes to dancing with a partner. (Despite Grandmum's attempts to make me otherwise.) But my soldier had a kind smile and amused eyes that glittered with Something I cannot name. He reminded me of Papa when he tries not to laugh aloud.
He told me all the things I know of soldiers. He whispered fondly of Bravery and Loyalty and Adventure and carefully of Blood and Death and Fear and Hate. But then his voice was very small when we weaved through the dancing couples out to where the Moon watches carefully. I must have looked quite tiny standing next to him, for I felt as though I was as small as Thumbelina living in her rose. There was a letter in his pocket--crinkled with worn edges as though it had been read a thousand times--and he unfolded it with careful hands. Exactly one word was penned across the paper.
He told me then of Thole.
21 comments:
your words send me into a dizzy blissful state of intrigue
x
there seems to be a little something waiting for you at my blog :) xx
Perhaps he ought not have been discussing things such s Blood, Death, Fear, and Hate with a lady.
i cant get enough of your writing. you should write a book. i would read it daily. you are so inspiring! x
Wow, this is magical. It is like a story, part of a novel or something. I would read it. I would wrap myself in these words and dream myself to sleep. You are rather astonishing. x
elly, you wonderful star, i have read this over and over and still can't quite find the words to describe how perfect it was, and i am utterly entranced by it.
i hope you will always write dearest.
much love,
minna <3
This fills my heart with delight, I'm so happy you experienced such a splendid day of wonders.
ps; I read on your blogger profile you're from Belgium, is this true? Oh I do hope so, I love discovering fellow Belgian bloggers. x
The wonderful thing about Thumbelina is that her heart was as large as anyone's, though she was so small. Sometimes we all feel small, but then we have arms of loved ones to hide in.
x
Jess.
sweetpie! lovely, lovely, lovely!
i have only just found your blog and i am so very glad i have, your stories and little writings are so magical, they take me away to a fairytale. this is so lovely♥
wow. you write such truly beautiful words...
Oh, my dearest Elly, this is so enchanting I barely have words for it. It all sounds like a great white painted orchestra in my mind, blooming snowdrops all over me. You inspire me with everything that comes out of you. And dear, I would love so much if we could actually write letters to each other. Wouldn't it be magical? Would you like to? Please do tell me what you think (you can e-mail me if you'd prefer fairy_lizz@hotmail.com). Wouldn't have to be brown ink - and if you don't want to, that's alright! Thought it would be lovely to make an actual paper link with you. xxx
Very beautiful words..
A very interesting blog!
Xoxo Cecilie
I adore this post. It sounds like a beautiful story, magical.And I always respect and love soldiers with uniforms.
Thank you so much, dear Elly, for your kind words. They mean so much to me.
I can feel and picture every word of this post. You are magic xxx
ah dearest this makes my cheeks crinkle into a smile. you darling.
Yes, I live in a town very close to Leuven. I am glad to not live in the city itself, now there's always the forest nearby to escape to if reality becomes too burdening. Do you have nature close to where you live? I have always been slightly jealous at Wallonia for having the Ardennes, haha!
Dearest Elly, this is absolutely beautiful. Your writing is so charming, I always find myself wanting to read more and more. Much love, from Suzannah ♥
magic♥
i like this.
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like talking to trees, your whispers hidden in the wind. only sometimes the trees talk back. like wishing on a star and having the star wish on you. say what you like; there's always someone listening.
a very merry thank you.