This is a short story of mine that I wrote for a school magazine. I hope you like it! (I may write a sequel to this)
Unbound
H. C. Smith
"A woman knows the face of the man she loves as a sailor knows the open sea." -Honore de Balzac
Kitra Cross fumbled with her basket of groceries. It was rare to find sufficient produce this time of year in the markets of the seaside town of Roseview. Her basket was full of potatoes, some ears of corn, tomatoes, apples, and pears. Occasionally, the market supplied peaches, which were Kitra’s utmost delight. Unluckily, peaches were rare. Too rare.
The market was practically the only place where one could meet another fellow human being. Nonetheless, the people of Roseview were all guarded, lonely, and distrustful.
There were not many people who inhabited the town. It was virtually unheard of, excluding the few towns that traded with it. Roseview was a cold, gloomy town nestled at the foot of a barren, jagged bundle of mountains and cliffs, as well as being severed from any other civilization by the immense, unforgiving Blacker Lake—which was, in truth, a sea.
People quietly conversed with one another while sifting through the available products and goods and passing by the displays of produce. Women wore black gowns and capes and men sported dark coats, boots, and hats. They were like shadows; dark, uninterested, indifferent. Mischievous children ran about the market. The sound of their laughter was unfamiliar to Kitra.
Kitra was weaving through small groups of people picking through baskets and carts of produce when she spotted a stand outside the butcher selling pounds of fresh filleted fish. She thought on it and decided to purchase a pound.
...
Ike Eli was drowning in a sea of people. He had never realized how many souls could fit in such a small place. He, and the other fishermen, had just finished unpacking all of the fish that morning from the boats. He had never been so busy in his life. Ike hated being busy.
Ike preferred the water over land. He very much enjoyed being out on the sea, where he had no concern for anything but the water. He was free on the water. Ike could be barefoot and could enjoy the feeling of the deck beneath his toes. He could sunbathe and feel the burn of the afternoon on his bare shoulders. He could taste the salt in the air. He could feel the icy water on his skin and in his bones. Ike could be alive!
But, he was now wandering amongst the people of the land, looking through all of the produce of the market. His hands, now shoved in his coat pockets, were webbed with ghastly cuts and wounds from unsuccessfully attempting to fillet about seventy fish before he had to give up the task.
Ike pulled a peach out of his pocket that he had snatched from the market of Arbormere, a town on the other side of Blacker Lake. He simply looked at the fruit in his fingers. It was like a miniature sun in his hands. He needed the sun. The gloominess of the day was getting to him, he thought.
His toes were sore in his restricting leather boots. His back was irritated under his shirt and vest. He was miserable and prayed to God to give him the strength to bear the prison of those clothes for a few more hours. When he decided that there was nothing in the market that he desired to purchase, he turned back around to return to the fishermen’s stand.
...
Kitra approached the stand to look at the selection. The stand was selling bundles of clams and oysters, as well. A couple of fishermen were wrapping up packages of fish to purchasers as they reaped in coins. A bearded man that smelled of tobacco greeted Kitra with a smile.
“Good afternoon, miss.” The fisherman said. “What are you looking for?”
“I would like to purchase a pound of fish, sir.” She said and handed him a few silver coins. He took the coins in his tough hands and then asked one of the other fishermen to his left to wrap another pound of fish.
When Kitra received her fish, she thanked the fishermen and whirled around from the stand when she smashed her skull into a man’s face.
She gasped and stumbled backward, but the man caught her arm before she could fall. Kitra was breathless. “I—I’m so sorry, sir.” She stammered and then lifted her eyes to see with whom she had unfortunately collided.
Her eyes fell upon a young man, perhaps only a year older than herself. The man was wearing a coat, vest, slacks, and leather boots laced up to his shins. His clothes smelled of the sea and it was comforting to her. His long brown hair was pulled back with a ribbon, but loose strands still fell across his face. The man’s kind, remarkable eyes were gray like the sea. His cheeks were lightly sun-kissed and stubble softened the hard lines of his muscular face and jaw.
Kitra found herself in a daze.
...
Ike was dizzy. Pain stretched across his chin and cheek. The girl he had collided with swayed backward and he quickly reached out and clutched her arm to keep her standing.
“I—I’m so sorry.” He heard her gasp.
And then his eyes met hers.
Ike was still and silent. It was as if he was on the water again, when all of his concern, all of his care and attention was on the waves. And this girl, this beautiful girl, was the bewitching sea who had captured him. This girl before him had rendered him speechless. Ike was faint with the awe this striking maiden had brought upon him.
Her wide eyes were of sapphire and bronze. Her hair was dark and it rolled down her shoulders in shimmering loose curls. Her skin was fair and white like ivory. Her beautiful lips were parted in gracious breathlessness and her cheeks flared with color. Her slender form was draped with a long black gown that swept about her in the frigid wind.
“Miss, I—apologize. I was—not looking where I was going...” Ike blurted. His words seemingly jumbled together at the tip of his tongue.
Her hand was pressed to the side of her head. “I’m alright, sir. Are you okay?”
Ike nodded and said, “Fine.” He was now unsure of what to do. Ike and the girl stood facing the other, each suffering through the awkwardly silent space between them.
The girl nodded, turned to her right, and began to walk away. Ike was suddenly hysterical. This woman who had captured his heart was leaving him! His tongue was in knots, his muscles were fluttering under his skin with thrill. An icy jolt raced up his spine. What if he never saw this girl again?
Her hair was rippling behind her. Her dark skirts swept across the stones of the ground. The distance that grew between Ike and the maiden brought him physical pain. It was like an unquenchable burning. She was the sea. The distance between them was the blistering fire.
Was she out of reach?
Ike finally spoke. “Wait.” It was a whisper. She did not stop. “Wait!” He called after her again.
The girl stopped.
...
Kitra turned to face the man who had called to her. A million thoughts were rushing through her mind, but only one stood out to her.
She wanted to go to him.
Kitra’s eyes searched his beautiful face for why she felt that way. His lips shuddered, as if trying to expel something from them.
Finally, he managed to speak. “What is your name, miss?” He asked in a sincere voice. A voice hungry for truth.
Her lips began to curl into an unavoidable smile. “Kitra. I’m Kitra Cross.” She found her name in his glimmering eyes. It settled there, where it was like cool wine to quench an undeniable thirst, she could see.
Then, there it was. Kitra could feel it on her tongue. It was a burning question that seared her mouth and she knew at once to unleash it. “What is your name, sir?”
He was very quick to answer. “Ike Eli, dearest Kitra.”
It came with a jolting shock to Kitra, like electricity. It was then she realized how much she had been craving to hear the name of this fisherman. Ike. It went into her like living breath. “Ike.” She whispered and her heart ignited into an inferno.
Kitra studied Ike in his insecurity. He was restless and uneasy. Ike bit his bottom lip and then approached Kitra. The scent of the sea was sweet and strong on his clothes. She had a sudden urge to grab his arm, to take his fingers in hers. Her arm ached where he had grabbed her. She wanted to feel his touch again.
Ike must have read her mind because he took his long fingers and wrapped them in hers. It felt righteous to Kitra, like it was always supposed to be that way. Ike and Kitra.
His breath was sweet to Kitra and reminded her of summer. “I know I’ve only just met you,” Ike began, “but I would like you to have this.” He held out his hand and in it was a golden peach. Kitra gasped. “It’s not much, but I…”
Kitra looked up at him and took the peach. “Peaches are my favorite, Ike.”
He chuckled and the sound made her heart flutter. “It must be my lucky day, then, lovely Kitra.”
“It must be.” She breathed.
Then, abruptly, Ike was pushed away from her as a shadowy swarm of men and women severed their connection. Kitra’s skin stung from being torn away from Ike. She was frantic to find him and began to search the crowd. She whirled around, but in every direction found shady gowns and dark coats, all in a dizzying blur.
When the shadows had gone, Ike was nowhere to be seen. The bitter air embraced her and she sighed. She found herself alone, but looked down at the peach in her hand.
Kitra had fallen in love.
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