by Christina Noll

Created on: March 14, 2009

A Nightingale's Hymn

Red rose petals fell from the balcony above her. "He loves me, he loves me not," Victoria spoke aloud. She was young and full of life. As bouncy as the auburn ringlets that draped down her shoulder. Abigail called up to her sister, asking her to stop her silliness. Abigail was beautiful. Her dark chocolate brown hair was pulled into a soft bun with wispy golden tinted strands framing her paled ivory skin. She had eyes as green as emeralds and a smile, which was rarely seen, capable of melting cold Christmas snow.

Abigail was not like most girls who were out playing and trying to catch the eyes of their Romeos. Abby, as most people called her, kept to herself. She was known to stay in her room reading and writing poems. Her breathtaking beauty had attracted multitudes of suitors, but Abby refused to reciprocate the attention. She was a simple girl, from simple roots, sometimes lonely desolate roots, where her best friends were a pencil and her diary. Abby had never known love and she was hesitant to show any real emotions. She rarely spoke to her family and kept her feelings to herself, that was until she wrote. When Abby wrote her poems, her heart poured out in eloquent symbolism, expressing everything that was bottled up deep within.

Abby ignored her sister Victoria's childish behavior and sat down on the dewy green grass to write a poem about the creek adjacent to her home. She could not seem to focus, and was flooded with memories of a family she barely knew. Daddy only knew the taste of booze. Mamma only knew the taste of tears. Abigail refused to fall prey to either. Unfortunately, loneliness had found a home in Abby.

Abby always felt as though she was searching for something. She could not quite figure out what she was looking for, but she knew she was missing something. Then she saw him, his deep eyes penetrated right through to Abby's soul. Abby's breath paused for a split second as she gazed at him.

Matthew was an average man. A farmer, nothing too special. He stood about 5'8" tall, had sandy brown hair, with hazel eyes. He had the hands of a hard worker. However, there was something about Matthew and the way he looked at Abby.

Matthew walked to Abby's house to introduce himself, a friendly gesture he thought to himself. He walked briskly to the pale yellow house. A light breeze caressed his face carrying with it the aroma of freshly budding wildflowers. Matthew slowly approached Abby with a well mannered friendly greeting. Abby

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