Today I'm participating in the Lost and Found Valentine bloghop, hosted by
Arlee Bird at Tossing it Out
Guilie Castilol-Oriard at A Quiet Laughter
Yolanda Renee at Defending the Pen
Alex J. Cavanaugh
"This challenge asks you to tell your fictional/non-fictional story about love -- lost or found -- in the first special Valentine's blogfest for the month of February."
I'm not much of a Happily Ever After writer, but decided to challenge myself for this bloghop and get somewhat better than satisfactory ending. Almost. My excerpt is less than 500 words, which is a real challenge for me as I'm not usually very concise. At the end, I posted the Taylor Swift video that inspired my writing. I hope you enjoy both, and then visit other participants to this prompt.
The last time I saw Melika she was standing on this same cliff. It was twilight, a light breeze lifting her golden hair, the city spread out below, lights twinkling as brilliant as the first stars. The setting sun painting her cheeks pink. Her hand in the air, not quite waving good-bye.
She knew it couldn’t last, I made no promises.
The mission was to make contact, scout a secure route into the city, and establish a temporary base. Melika was the contact. Beautiful, intelligent, dedicated to the ideal of freedom. Together we roamed the streets, pretending to be lovers touring the city. She had a delicate, easy laugh, soft hands that felt like silk sliding through my fingers.
I fell in love with the city as she told its history, related ancient stories of heroic deeds, revealed secret passages below majestic structures. It was magical. She was magical. By the time Jenkins gave the command to advance I was hopeless lost in her charms.
“Remember me,” Melika said on our last stolen night together.
Her place was out of the city, cut off by hills on one side, the ocean on the other. Lost in momentary passion, I nearly missed the rendezvous with my unit.
“Is that her,” the pilot asked through the head set.
The chopper banked as it drew closer, giving me a side view of the bluff and burnt out house. Melika stood silhouetted in the light of bursting bombs, short hair standing straight from the wind of the rotors. She’d lost her smile, torn jeans and blood stained shirt replaced the summer dress I remembered.
“That’s her.” I scanned the area for hostiles, then motioned for the pilot to set it down.
I was half out of the copter as it skimmed land, anxious to know if she still remembered me, when the bullets razed the tail.
“There, there,” I yelled into the mike as the chopper lifted and spun.
Cooper was already laying down cover fire as the pilot regained control and launched a missile at a jeep that suddenly raced from under the rubble that used to be a garage.
My ears were ringing from the explosion and gunfire, distorting the commands to abort the pick up. Through the smoke, Melika stood tall, her hand in the air.
“Negative, Captain. We can’t leave her.”
“There may be more hostiles Sir,” Cooper argued. “And she could be in on the trap. We can’t risk it.”
I won’t leave her again I promised myself. I’d kept her last request, remembering every detail of our time together. “Take us down, now.”
I climbed out on the runner and leaned down, stretching my arm towards Melika’s still raised hand.
“Make it quick,” Cooper told the pilot.
I blocked out the commands to abort, the gun fire, the sudden silence as the bombs stopped. I focused on Melika’s unwavering hand.