ICU2, I see that you're a guy so I'm not sure if you'll enjoy these kinds of stories; however, below is the prologue for you to read. I wanted to post up a part of the first chapter, but it's too much to post. If you click on the link below and when you get to amazon, click on the book, you can read parts of chapter one and two. Please don't hesitate to tell me that this is not your kind of books to read. I will understand.
http://www.amazon.com/Flowers-Elizabeth-H-Vangh/dp/0996080635/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1400726990&sr=8-4&keywords=flowers+for+elizabethPrologueMay 25th. It was a boisterous evening as usual, and the city wasn’t yet ready
to surrender itself to the stillness of the night. The spectacular vast horizon
line carved the perfect division between the darkened sky and the beauty of the
crowded city in silhouette.
The full moon was luminous as it smiled graciously down onto the earth
below. The brilliant colors of the starry sky, along with the thousands of glowing
lights, made the city sparkle brightly in the twilight.
The restless streets were actively entertained by the pleasant noises of car
stereos and horns. The voices of people yelling at each other as they frantically
tried to get where they needed to be were a symbol of harmony to those who
lived in the city.
A red convertible was heading down on Broadway, speeding and cutting
through the traffic lanes. The driver’s vision was blurred. His cluttered mind was
spinning wildly out of control as he thought of nothing else but his destination.
Suddenly his phone rang.
“Hey, dude!” said the angry voice on the other end. “Where the hell are
you?”
“I’m on my way,” the driver mumbled.
“Hurry up! They’re getting pissed! What the hell is taking you so long?”
“I just took another hit! I’ll be there in about fifteen minnn. . .” Suddenly,
his voice elevated to a high, screeching scream: “Oh, shit!!!” And then everything
went silent.
Fast Forward . . .May 25th. Darkness had given way to dawn. On the horizon, golden rays
of red and orange washed across the sky like a flood of paint. The vibrant colors
of the crimson sky stretched for miles across the horizon, like a masterpiece
painted just for the human eyes. The presence of the sun opened up a glowing
curtain of light for the earth below as it began to wake. The warmth of the rays
began to heat up the earth, melting away the morning mists.
From a distance, a black limousine gradually maneuvered along a curvy
road and came to a stop at the bottom of a large grassy hill.
On top of the hill, a tall oak tree stood proudly with its branches reaching
out, shadowing most of the hilltop. Underneath it stood an upright, lonely
headstone with a picture of a beautiful young woman embedded into it. The
large, old tree was her only companion and protector, shielding her from the
ravages of the rain, the wind, and the sharp rays of the sun.
Suddenly the limousine door opened, and the driver got out of it to assist
his passenger. An elderly man slowly emerged from the vehicle holding a bouquet
of fresh flowers in one hand and a shiny, brownish cane in the other. He had a
full head of grayish, silvery hair. His fragile face was darkened with countless age
spots, and deep lines and wrinkles from years of sorrow.
He walked a few steps, his pensive eyes never once focused on anything
else as he steadily gazed up the hill at the tree. He stopped and stood still for a
moment, trying to straighten out his back. Then he hunched over and slowly
began to walk again.
With the support of his cane, he struggled up the hill, stopping several
times to catch his breath.
“Do you need help, sir?” the driver called out to him.
“No. I’ve done this every year,” the old man replied in a shaky and raspy
voice.
It took him a while, but he finally reached the top of the hill. Standing
silently by the headstone, he stared at the picture of the woman for a few minutes.
Then he released a soft, painful sigh as he laid the bouquet next to her. Gently
touching the picture with his fingers, he began to speak to her. “Hello, my dear.
How are you? You still look more beautiful with each passing day.”
Carefully, he laid his cane on the ground. Then he lowered his right hand,
grabbing hold of the green, luscious grass to support his body as he slowly sat
down beside her. “I’ve missed you,” he said. “I’ve missed you every day for all
these years.”
Overcome with sorrow, he whimpered and then sobbed silently. He leaned
against the headstone and closed his eyes, silent and alone like a lost child. But in
his heart, he was not alone—he was now with her again. Keeping his eyes closed,
he fell asleep beside her.
A beam of light trickled through the protection of the tree, casting a warm,
sharp ray that cut across his face. He opened his eyes and realized it was late in
the afternoon. Although he’d lost track of time, he didn’t seem to care.
“It’s four o’clock, sir!” the driver called up to him. “You’ll miss your flight
if we don’t leave now!”
The man didn’t want to get up. He didn’t want to leave her. He wanted to
cry hysterically like a child who didn’t want to be parted from his mother. But
he knew he had to leave.
Wrapping his arms around the headstone, the old man gently kissed the
picture of the woman. A few tears quietly ran down his rough, rugged face as he
managed to say his last words to her. “You sleep now, my dear, and I promise I
will see you again.”