By Prospero Dae
My boyfriend invited me to his parent’s ski chalet.
The stone fireplace was a symphony of obsessive ochres, ravishing reds, and barbarous blues. It warmed the cabin, whose timbered ceiling and rustic furniture made a mockery of the sterile interiors found in the city.
A large pile of letters was scattered on a pear wood table. Love letters. Some had been delicately perfumed, while others were so delightfully written they must have originated on Mount Parnassus. My boyfriend rightly insisted I burn them all; past weakness and impudence needed purification.
The paper burned with great fidelity.
Luckily, they were careful copies.
Lovely word choices Prospero. I was inside that chalet. I did not understand your last line. At first I smiled, thinking romantic deceit was involved, but how would the narrator know ithey were careful copies since they were the boyfriend’s letters? Or were they?
‘Tis obvious the “hero” of this story couldn’t resist keeping carbons of his old love letters–to constantly remind him of how desirable he is. Great story, Prospero. I expect no less of you!
Nice!!
Prospero Dae, You’re one of my favorite 101 Words frequent contributor — every story a delight for eyes an mind.
Gentle and uplifting at the same time
I am meditating upon an obsessive ochre….and a barbarous blue…
The last sentence – love it! Ah yes the quiet control over a moment of crisis. Love this one ~
Shivering, despite the flames. The duplicity of passion. The obsession of flames. The burning of love. Man, this is good. So much subtext in such a short story.
sometimes it’s good to burn the past (and the copies too) 🙂 nice story!