I hope you passed. The conclusion was very clever.
|This is a story that I wrote for a state writing test.... I'm not actually supposed to keep a copy of it... But I hate giving away the stories I write, with no proof that they are mine. So here it is.
White peonies, lush red roses, violets and clover pepper the ground. Springtime,the season of blooming and growing, where scents fill the air and create a melody in the wind. Little creatures running about, wide awake now, fresh from winters' long rest. This small patch of land is my home, my garden. I dream of it when I am away, its sweet lullaby begging me to return. It is my little heaven, the place where I would go when I die. I hope to return there, to the garden where I met her.
I can see our reunion now. I will go back, and she will be there waiting for me, her face crinkling as she smiles. The sun will hit her just right, causing her skin to glow, all her happiness, once bottled up, leaking out into the air. It will be so warm and sweet I will taste it in the wind. Her arms will open wide, waiting to envelop me in their warmth, their fragility helping to increase the embraces' preciousness. Her low voice will shiver as she talks, the gossamer thread of words spilling forth, as she tells me how much she missed me.
If I close my eyes, I am already there, rushing towards her, hoping she means what she says. I can feel the smile forming on my face, my joy showing in every move I make. It is her promise of love, that will be returned as I reach the field, that keeps me going. I know that though I may have doubts now, far away from her, she will never lie to me.
Ecstatically, I stand up and leave the dingy thing I call home behind. I trust that she will be there when I arrive, warm and waiting, awake and euphoric. I don't pause to think of that last time, the time I went and she was asleep on the ground, her white dress crumpled and matching to her hair. I don't remember the cold, stiff hand, that I gently nudged to decipher if she wanted to play or not.
I reached the place that I took care not to forget. A place where flowers had grown, love had bloomed, and promises had been sown. I found only an empty lot, surrounded by tall buildings. I knew then that my love had gone without me. She had left me behind to fend for myself, and this left me dejected.
I would always remember that place, in the garden, where I fell in love and lost it. I knew I would move on though, for such is the life of a dog.
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