Confessions

Share on facebook
Facebook
Share on twitter
Twitter
Share on reddit
Reddit
Share on pinterest
Pinterest

She settled down on the couch, shifting slightly as she sat cross-legged, the guitar cradled in her lap. Ezekiel lounged at the other end of the sofa, arm thrown across the back, bowl of cookies nestled in his lap and Oslo resting against his thigh as usual. London strummed tanned fingers across the strings, pulling soft melodies from the guitar. She had been practicing for a few months just for this. Nervously London kept throwing soft glances at the man she shared her space with. This was different, this was scary. She was more afraid of this than anything she had faced in her entire life. She could calculate with certainty most outcomes and avoided negative ones with ease.  It was exciting how he kept her guessing. Especially since he had started putting his wings away so she couldn’t read his moods with such ease. Taking a deep breath, she began to hum softly.

My ancestors planted some sequoias by a road
I’ve driven down that road since I was born..”

Ezekiel nodded sagely, running fingertips along Oslo’s back. Popping a few cookies into his mouth he listened as she found her range and sang a little louder, her eyes still focusing on their cat her ears warm with nervousness.


Oh never have you ever seen so many perfect evergreens
But I would chop them all down just for you..”

The Angel looked slightly uncomfortable, his posture stiffening at the lyrics, the woman smiled slightly but kept crooning softly. “I would never want that..”

My scar is from a polar bear, my curse is from a witch..”

London, that’s from a bullet, not a Polar bear.”

She laughed pausing for a moment as she fought to control the giggles.

All I’ve ever wanted see, was to tell you honestly
I’d do anything for you
I’d do absolutely anything for you

But the best story that I could ever tell is the one where I am growing old with you…”

She sang the last lines softly, lifting her eyes to shyly make eye contact. Placing her palm against the vibrating strings she nibbled her lips as he processed her words. “I didn’t write it I, uh found it and I.. it was..” She never got to finish, firm lips pressed against her own as he dragged the instrument from her lap and pulled the diminutive woman into his own with a soft possessive growl.

Share on facebook
Facebook
Share on twitter
Twitter
Share on reddit
Reddit
Share on pinterest
Pinterest
0 0 votes
Article Rating
Subscribe
Notify of
guest
0 Comments
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
error: We\'re protecting our writers and artists work! No copy!