V.
“I seek guidance,” I said to The Phantom, “and thus arrive the flute player, the iris, the osprey and The Blue Deer – stewards. Caregivers are stewards; stewards are caregivers.”
“You forget me,” he said. “Am I not your steward?”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “I can but imagine.”
Dusk embraced us now, at the window here in the blog cupola. The Blue Deer lifted its head, sniffed the air, and then walked off into the woods. I pulled the window shut, picked up my purple and white iris the Phantom had picked for me and we headed down the winding staircase, I behind the Phantom. In case I stumbled I hoped he would catch me. If I went first I feared he would push me. I didn’t want to flatten my iris.
When we reached the foot of the stairs, I thanked him again. We parted there. I lifted the iris to my nose. The stem had a nutmeggy smell, like his hand.
“What is your name?” I called after him.
“Moriarty,” he called back.
~ fin de siècle ~
Samantha Mozart
For some reason the images no longer show here, but when you click on the question mark, it links to my books on Amazon.
Moriarty–such an interesting fellow. I agree with Pat, this piece has a lot of promise. An ending, but also a beginning to something else. Lovely. 🙂
Thank you, Sara. You and Pat got my point and purpose. Moriarty will return during these A-Zs, in a brief bio. 🙂
… and the beginning of a lovely and supportive relationship starts. I am delighted that Moriarty is there to help you in your times of need. Lovely scene.
I’m not sure what Moriarty’s intentions are, Gwynn. But, he’s around, for whatever reason. And that was a lovely scene, wasn’t it.
Thanks for coming by and seeing us and for your lovely compliment.
Samantha, this one is beautiful and I have a big smile on my face. I love the parting.
I am a hopeless romantic so I see it as the woman in love calling out to her lover,
“What’s your name?” And the man without a name says, “Moriarty.”
It is the remembrance of the value a woman once had of herself.
It is the restoration of a dream deferred.
It is the promise of a new beginning.
Believe me when I say I am sitting here smiling. I love this one especially because of its promise.
Shalom
All of that, Patricia. And, I am the consummate romantic, too. I love that you smile, and I believe in promise: it is a response full of hope.
Thank you for bringing into sharper focus the feeling in my storytelling. Sometimes, as Stephen King says, I just flail away at it.
Shalom,
Samantha
I’ll miss Moriarty, the Phantom. Perhaps he needs to be quiet for a while, but return he will, I feel it in my bones. Meanwhile he’s left you the blue and white iris, and the seeds of his love and care. Thank you Samantha and, as always, like Marsha, I feel your presence in every word written with the quill.
Knowing Moriarty, Susan, he’d take the good pens and leave me the quill. Your mind and mine seem to be on the same sort of train lately. In tomorrow’s post not only will Emily Bronte appear but also a quill.
Moriarty will be back in a bit of a bio under “T.”
After the A-Zs I plan to seclude myself with him and work on a book.
Thanks for your kind compliments, for reiterating Marsha’s words.
It’s romantic in a chaste way. Why is it I always feel that I’m in your presence, as close as beside or behind you (and I won’t push you down the stairs)? Oh! I know what it is!! It is your superb writing talents? Oh yes!! That’s exactly what it is. Love you girl!!
Glad you won’t push me down the stairs. 🙂
Otherwise, I try to imagine my readers in my presence as I am telling them the story. I’m pleased that it comes through.
Thanks, Marsha