Gone [prologue]

(Okay, I wrote this passage quite a while ago. I don't have any idea why I didn't continue it, but this is what I wrote. Rip it to pieces if you want, I love criticism. I've edited a total number of two times. Hehe, please help!)

Star dotted skies are awaiting me back home. There are wide grasslands and beautiful flowers that throw their scent into the breeze. I have two wonderful parents who will sacrifice anything for their children. An amazing home that has plenty of nice workers. A dozen handsome men lined up for my hand in marriage. A gorgeous brown stallion, free from his stable to run across the farmland; they are all waiting for me. Though I will never return.

It's not as if my reason to never return isn't reasonable, it's just that it's only reasonable to me. Nobody would believe me if I told them, it'd be to the mental institution immediately. My clause was definitely true, no matter what anybody says about it. My dead fiancée is haunting me.

It all started about a few years ago. The small town of Carlile, Wyoming, stood peacefully the night I had lost the love of my life. That afternoon, my fiancée, Charles Williams, had called me to arrange a picnic by the edge of Dry Cabin Creek. Being the bubbly bodacious girl I was, I had immediately said yes and hurried to make myself prettier than usual for the date.

The smell of strawberries and cherries had filled my nose as I had fumbled around for cosmetics in my room. I had eventually pulled my light brown hair up into a very beautiful French braid which had made the lighter highlights of my hair stand out. My makeup had already been applied expertly to my face when I had finished by looking in my mirror.

I looked great, no matter how much my friends had complained about me not being in style and “totally dogging” on their “reps”. I still say I can dress in whichever era I want, it’s not like some fashion police will come and arrest me. Charles had told me a million times that he loved the way I dressed, more nineteen sixties than nineteen eighties. Though just one more year and it would be nineteen ninety, the year I would have lost him forever. The year I would have to endure without him.

Charles was lucky to have a girl like me, as lucky as I was to have a guy like him. My pale skin had a great complexion adding to the soft features of my face. Everything about me was what a man demanded in a wife. I was elegant when needed, wild when appropriate, usually grammatically correct; I was a modern Lucy. I was Ana Gabriela Montgomery-James, daughter of Sir Jonathon Aaron Montgomery IV.

I had left that afternoon with my fiancée, joyfully awaiting the twilight by the creek. Dry Cabin Creek is a very romantic place for couples; today, they would have called it “Lovers' Lane“. We had brought all the fixings of a romantic picnic with us. A large silk blanket was spread out on the soft grass for us to sit on. We scattered lit candles all around us, not even worrying about a fire when the ground was so wet and damp. He dropped the picnic basket in-between us and had taken out the dinner he had made. We talked about the wedding, our big day. In a matter of months, I would have been Mrs. Williams. I had laughed back then because it made me sound old. I was only nineteen.

After what had seemed like only a moment, it had started to get dark. Fireflies glowed brightly every now and then near a bush or tree. The sound of the rushing water from the creek had been very calming as Charles and I cuddled together against the cold, crisp breeze. Everything was enveloped in a dark shadow; the only light came from the moon that was behind the clouds. The blue moonlight accented the romance and soon I had found myself crushing lips with Charles, not being able to get any closer to him.

When we pulled apart from each other, breathing heavily, Charles stood up and threw off his collared shirt. Of course he would show off his swimming skills to me. I had hoped he was going to take the rest of his clothes off and invite me into the water with him, but he didn’t. I would give anything to have known what was on his mind when he just stood up like that. What was he planning to do in the water? Why did he do it? I would never know. I had stared in awe as he strode over to the very edge of the water with a grace that left me breathless. He turned slowly toward me and smiled. I watched him dive into the water and slip underneath the silky black surface.

I waited and waited for him to come back up. An entire minute had passed when I had starting to become nervous. Where was he? Did he come back up farther down the creek? I looked down the winding water path, but the darkness left me questioning the possibility. I called out his name, once, twice. No answer. I quickly threw off my dress and kicked my shoes to the side. I had a moment of insecurity; I had never swum in the creek at night. I ignored my fears and jumped into the creek head first.

Icy cold water soaked through my clothes and a series of shivers ran through me as I swam deeper into the blackness. I couldn’t see a thing. The liquid softness swallowed me whole and soon enough, I had to come back up for air. Oh, precious air! I filled my lungs and looked around in the hopes that he was already out. No one was there; even the candles had burnt themselves out. Only one was left lit, it must have meant that Charles was still alive down there. I dove under the icy surface again and searched for my fiancée. The clouds had apparently moved out of the moon’s path and now the underwater world lit up. The creek was deeper than I thought. I swam to the side of the creek, staying close to the surface and the side wall. I could clearly see the moon, the trees, even the one lit candle from there. It was like looking through glass. I looked down again and saw a pale white hand reach up from the dark pit. I grabbed it and pulled. Yes, this hand was the hand I had held so many times before, I had been completely sure of that. He wouldn’t budge. And he wouldn’t hold on. I swam closer to his body and stopped when I saw the reason he wouldn’t move.

Charles was tangled. A branch was holding him in place and his left hand was stuck between the branch and his leg. I stared at his body. It was lifeless. His once vivid blue eyes were staring blankly ahead. His lips formed a perfect round `o’. I floated away from him, bumping my back on the creek wall. A muted scream escaped my mouth and I gulped in gallons of cold water. I swam back up and gasped for air. Choking, I made my way across the silky black river to where we had rested before. I sat down on the blanket and stared into the water. Charles was dead. I looked over to the candle, the candle that assured me the love of my life was still there, somehow. It wasn’t lit.