This is some random writing that I did back in April of last year and I never got around to continuing the story. So, this is to refresh my blog memory and to, hopefully, urge me on to writing the next part.
I walked along the gravel-covered ruts through the cemetery. The stone markers were haphazardly strewn throughout the grass, as if the earth were rejecting their intrusion and the intrusion of those they marked. The wind breathed through the tall grass and stirred applause from the millions of leaves on the trees. I couldn't remember the last time my life was this still. Everything around me was speaking, reminding me that it was all alive.
I almost become lost in their voices until my eyes fell upon the rough headstone. SILVER. "It is better to have loved and lost than to never have...ah, what a load of crap." He always did have a strange sense of humor. Like the time we met. I was staring at a poster for the theater group's production of Moulin Rouge on the community board of the campus when his voice interrupted my thoughts with, "Why go and see that when I can just tell you about it right now. They all sing a conglomerate of 80's pop, fall into forbidden love, and the girl dies a tragic, but beautiful, death. There. Now you have that night free to have dinner with me."
I turned to see a mischievous smirk upon the face of a man who could only be described as boyishly charming, as cliche as that was. But I had heard enough pickup lines to know that I shouldn't give in too easily to a witty remark and its accompanying smile, no matter how cute he was.
"What makes you think that I don't happen to love 80's pop, or that I would go to dinner with you, a complete stranger?" I asked him coyly, using emphasis on the word strange.
"Are you kidding? One, nobody likes 80's pop. At least, not enough to sit through two hours of it. And two, I would think it would much more exciting to spend those two hours enjoying dinner with a complete stranger than any length of time listening to an odd blend of Madonna and The Police."
I had absolutely no comeback to this and he stole the advantage by quickly adding, "Great. I will meet you outside of Henley Hall, 7 p.m., Friday."
"Wait. How did you know I live at Henley Hall? You don't even know my name."
"Sure I do. Barbara."
He waited for my reaction, and must have seen my confusion.
"Sara? Beth?" That same smile spread across his face again. "Ok, so I don't know your name. What shall I call the lady that will be haunting my thoughts for the rest of my existence?"
"Paulette. But you still didn't tell me how you knew where I lived."
"Ah, that I will save for you until our date. Until then, I think I will just let you go mad trying to figure it out. And just so we're not on uneven footing, the name is Charles, Charles Silver." He walked away, slowly picking up speed, but still managed to look back once more with that same grin on his face, like he definitely had a secret, and I was it.