This is the prologue to a story I've been working on for a year now. It's about four chapters long at this point, but I'm constantly finding errors or parts I don't like. I'm interested in my strong and weak points, so any criticism would be nice.
adaprox, like Eve and Adam, from where across the river that could be crossed either by stone or metal, was a road that led through the entire kingdom, like the spinal column down the human body, serving it's purpose of just holding everything together. And if you were to by any chance take that road down past the copious farms, and over the rolling green hills of the land, you would come to a pond that basked in the sun like no other pond, lake, sea, ocean, or even puddle before it, and at that pond is where he waited, admiring the far off girl from afar.
So far, in her beauty I wish to be near. But it seems to me I'll live a life of eternal servitude to desire and lust. I've fallen ill to a slowly breaking heart for I dream of the unattainable. Limerence. Why does it exist? Why must the poignant idea of the word appear so often. It's not so much that I can't live without it, so much as I don't want to live without it. What's the point of living a life that's empty? What's the point of moving onward when you see what you want all around you, but it will never come to you. When class separates the loved from the lover, the lover consciously observes such chances being expunged, but the loved stands by in oblivion, unaware of what could of been.
At the bank of the pond is where he remained, throwing rocks across what seemed to be all he knew. It's how he passed his time when he was alone. The Boy was rather tall, with shaggy hair that dangled around the perimeter of his head like icicles hanging from roofs, except they swayed back and forth with each step with much greater facility. He had an unusually eager look to him, and was always chipper and full of excitement that lasted until he finally collapsed of exhaustion every night. To first meet him, his amicable vibrations would become dominant and you would be surprised to even think that this boy had troubles at all. However, his troubles were eminent. His lower class stature constructed an insurmountable wall between him and the girl he had fallen madly in love with. The wall was not meant to be breeched, and those who did so never returned to the other side. He despised the rich with such disgust, that even when entertaining them, he adulterated their food while they weren't looking. Then later, when they were hunched over spewing already chewed food from their mouths, The Boy simply stared and smiled.
His eyes watched her castle window from the far off bank of the pond where he spent his time. She was at her window and he watched as she watched for the gallant knight to come speeding for her, which he was almost positive would happen before he even thought about working up the courage to ignore all the laws and codes society lived by, and asking her to be his, and for him to be hers. He wished that she could see the gallant knight inside of him, but he remembered her shallow interior, and sighed for the 5th time that hour. He began to softly sing to himself:
"I will build my love a tower
By yon clear and crystal fountain,
And upon it I will pile,
All the flowers from the mountain."
His sighs seemed to be never ending.
She sat in her modern room, with red stained walls that looked like nail-polish, whilst perched on her window sill, starring out, searching the land below, wallowing in being here while wishing to see her home. To her though, it was so far away. Nothing could be as good here as it is there, she often thought to herself. Across the ocean, she came every summer's end for an education, or at least the opportunity for an education. She was considered royalty in these lands, as her father's father had claimed it all those years ago, and now the ruling hand of her father touched every last soul within the circumference of the boarders.
I miss your distinct culture. I miss the people whom I used to surround myself with. They are far better than the pretentious scum that walk the land of where I call here. I wish to be within your boarders, and I wish for you to take me back, to only never send me away again. I have no purpose here and I will continue to live my life in absolute despondency due to the fact that I am forced to stay here against my will.
She was the epitome of beauty, and all her subjects viewed her at the pinnacle of admiration. She was truly the work of some divine figure, that hand molded her from only the most precious elements that were created in the core soil of Mount Olympus. Her voice, easily comparable to those of the sirens who nearly drove Odysseus mad, was sweet and melodic enough to make demons cry, and then her breath, pure as uisce beatha, could send the receiver of her kiss into a trance. Her scent was heavenly and could be sensed from miles away, even during the harshest of gales.
Sometimes she would stare out her castle window, waiting for some gallant knight to come atop the horizon, and shred across it in an attempt to reach her, and eventually sail home again. She imagined her knight with the thick accent that she grew up with and she smiled. This however, never happened, and as far as she was concerned, never would. This thought came to her unceasingly and she soon though to herself that she would soon have to settle for less.
She feared the lesser men.
Big Bear could rest peacefully at night, besides the recent outbreak of insomnia that kept him up until the dark became light. He lay listless, concentrating on the walls of his modest home, that seemed to be endless pools of cream colored paint, that only people of his stature could afford. Money was something that came naturally to Big Bear, and no one really knew how he gained his wealth. All that mattered was that he had connections, and knew how to rub his connections the right way. Regardless of his opulent lifestyle, he was still kind to the poor and gave all he could. However, among his rich culture he often found himself lost. The jokes he told did not roll well with the aristocratic personalities that was found in the higher class, and the sycophants sneered as he passed. Sycophants despised Big Bear with the upmost repugnance, mainly due to his ties with those in the lower class.
I need to live my life without the necessities that everyone in my presence holds so dear. Sycophants...that's all they are. Dirty. Snitch's. It's as if you didn't adorn your home with aesthetically pleasing artwork, sculptures, and other kinds of materialistic objects, you were a barbarian. Anyone in this day of age who doesn't live a life they do is cast out. Cast out into the world as a social recluse never to be taken aback by those who left him for dead. However, I will be there. I will be there to treat those who fall with respect. I'll pay no mind to class or color, creed or gender. To me, it's all the same.
His friends in the lower class would often debase his reputation among the rich, but he never tried to hide them despite their puerile antics. However, the gypsy boy whom no one except Big Bear knew was actually part gypsy, amused those with higher stature. They, more than not, found him to be witty and likable. He would often accompany Big Bear as he dined with royalty, because Big Bear relied upon the gypsy boy for entertainment. The boy was never introduced to the King though, because Big Bear had claimed that the King would not find the gypsy boy's form of entertainment entertaining.
Big Bear would often slip out of his home randomly, to wonder the streets aimlessly in search for some sort of medicine to cure his sleep. It didn't matter what, he wasn't picky. He asked here and there, there and here, he asked everywhere, and sometimes even nowhere. The right places always seemed to be the last places he looked, and the right people always seemed to be the last people he asked. Regardless, every-night he found the medicine and took it once he got home.
Big Bear could still not sleep.
Miles away, the princess's current prince lover resided, too far away to even think about seeing her. There he sat at his window constantly starring out, wishing he could see the same window that the lower class boy was currently starring at. The Prince constantly mused about her beautiful face, and often lost himself in poetic outbursts of euphoria that left him incredibly disconsolate because they weren't true, or at least were not so in the present. He and the princess would exchange letters to each other for they lived miles apart. They had met at a faire where they watched their favorite team and realized the similarities between them. Without regarding the distance between the two, they dedicated themselves to each other.
My life continues to become seemingly less important as the days go onward and on. At the dawn of each day, I set myself a goal to not fall victim to the treachery of lust. Regardless of my tenacity, I always become a daydream believer. My mind carries on as episodes of fabricated future events play in the back of my mind. I wish to turn them off and never carry the thought with me. However, as my life grows more and more full, my heart falls decreasingly empty. The points of carrying on seem to be non-exisistant, as long as we both live unaware.
He awaited the day anxiously, that he and his lover would be reunited and from there, could fall madly in love with one another. He wished for this to happen deeply, but felt uneasy with himself, and often found it hard to believe that it would ever happen. He had serious problems with himself, and eased the pain with uisce beatha. Whenever he felt unsure with himself, he turned to the liquor and dosed his liver with poison. Even though he grew happy under the influence, some times he grew even worse. He would spend his drunken hours pacing around his home, knocking over tables and punching through walls.
His stature in society was his only other ego booster, but even that seemed to send questions bouncing back and forth through his mind. Something about the aristocratic lifestyle that he was now going through made him severely rethink the life he wanted to live. It wasn't him, it wasn't who he was about. Nothing about this life seemed to be a part of him, and he damn well didn't want to be a part of it. He dreamed of leaving his high class life-style behind, and with his lover, run away to live modestly on a farm. Although, he was not sure how she felt about leaving her life behind.
He wanted nothing more than her to be in his arms.