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  • Nirah Celeste

Ruby’s Roses- A Snippet

Hi everyone, I’ve decided I’d love to start sharing my short stories and writings with you all on my blog to give you a taste of books I am creating and have been working on. Here’s a snippet of a short story I began writing last night. This is a little intro to some random ideas that spark bigger stories I like to write. I hope you enjoy.

Ruby’s Roses

Written by Nirah Celeste


{A short intro... more to come!}


Sometimes I feel like you’re watching me- like a guardian angel watches over in support- but I know you’re not. You’re somewhere in your van, leading a life astray; a life of mystery. We used to live in a dream world. Now it’s all a deluded fantasy. Wherever you are, it’s not us anymore. We lost that part of ourselves a long time ago. Although you still live awake and strong in my heart, I know that you don’t care for me in the same way as I do you. Once upon a time you appreciated me in a way no one but my mother had when she held me in her arms as a newborn. Our love was fresh, tasteful; full of zest. Our sex had spice and sensuality. We were a team you and I. We made our dreams a reality, and then one day I wasn’t apart of the dream anymore and you left. You took your things, packed them into a box and drove away in your old, orange tinted van. If I were in a dream right now I would say you flew off on a carrot and disappeared behind a rainbow, but this is no fairytale. The story isn’t over either.

*

Your grey woollen sweater matched the colour of the churning winter sea. Your silhouette, bulky and seal like, walked towards me, dragging the end of your worn out surf board in the sand. Sharp trail marks followed behind. I could hear your heaving, heavy breath as you got closer. Your face was now visible against the canvas of the stormy, grey sky. “Bloody hell, why are you standing there like that?” you muttered, salt water dribbling from your mouth. I crossed my arms; your knitted sweater kept me cosy on the windy shore. I looked up at you in dismay. “What do you expect me to do? Wait for you in the car?” I gave you a serious look. You stepped to a stop right in front of me, leaning your board on a slant and undoing the cord strapped around your ankle. Your wet, tangled hair was mattered and soaked in sea water. It splashed over your face and dangled about as you bent over your legs, removing the ankle brace. You peered up for a second, and then said, “No of course not. Ruby can not stand one second away from her beloved surfer boyfriend.” This time your voice was projected but lighter in tone. You laughed, and stood vertical. A smile revealing your dimples smoothed across your face. You came towards me with the intention to hug me, but backed off once realising that you were wet and I was dry. You laughed even harder. The harsh coldness suddenly sunk in and surfaced on the look on your face- your sweet, calm smile morphed into a teeth baring grimace. “Let’s go.” You said. I nodded in agreement. We trudged up the sand dunes, backs turned to the swirling sea and salty skies. There was no sun that day, only dusky draping clouds and sprinkles of rain to add to the beaten down beach. We eventually made out the old wooden fence post of the car park, and headed towards the known warmth of the van. This place was almost hidden away, and even harder to find during the months of winter. No tourists would ever be found here, only locals that knew the terrain well. Old uncle Blue tried to steer you away from coming here during winter in fear you’d get chomped by a great white. We got up to the van and looked back down the path we’d walked. We could see the horizon stretch for miles in the distance. Dark blues and greys spilled into each other and waves rumbled loud down on the beach. Rain started to sift down onto us, so we made a dash to the van. You slid the side door open and guided your board into the back. I ran around the other side and sat in the front while you shimmied off the wet suit you’d been shivering in for the last twenty minutes of walking up here, and chucked the darn thing in with the surf board. You hopped into the driving seat as quick as a flash, and we were off. The road here was absolutely shit to drive on in the type of vehicle you drove; all rock and gravel for 50kms back into town. We lived in an old town, isolated from the rest of the towns on the coast. We rented a shack out in the bush. Trees towered over our little home and sheltered us from the howling of the wind during winter time. I loved it there. I really did. Especially with the little wood stove fireplace and cosy 70s foam couches. It was affordable on the low income we were making, and allowed us to have loud sex without the neighbours hearing us because we were on our own little property. The nearest house was right down the other end of the street. Our street had a funny name though- Gilligacadan. I used to lay awake some nights when I wasn’t feeling too well and wondered about the origin behind the name. The answer never came to me. I pondered a lot those nights I was a bit crook. There were a lot of strange things in that town, so there was plenty to keep my mind busy. You liked your space when I was sick. You’d crash on the couch and give me freedom to take up the whole bed. At least you’d come check in on me and bring me glasses of water in the middle of the night, knowing I didn’t have the energy to get up.

*


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