I'd appreciate tips, especially regarding the dialogues and their mechanics. Tell me if you find the plot too foggy as well.
~
the willow tree
The notice of my father’s death did not really much upset me. The true reasons remain unknown, but I had not been eager to leave my poetry behind for a day’s trip into the meadows. I was supposed then to meet someone that day, someone who I loved more deeply, and uncertainly. The cause was mine after the duty fell upon his loss on me, and I didn’t feel indebted. It was such a rainy day; the streets were still echoing the lamplight upon the dusty, botched sidewalk, as the sky was indigo. I went outside, dwellt in the breeze, and then got into my rusty white sedan before wailing quietly for a moment.
Watching cross-eyed as the yellow streetlights’ flush gave in into the air, I steered almost unconsciously across the alleys of the capital. After a latent disregard toward the tinted signals wet on the boulevard, I looked for a close exit to the plains. Had I not found a close outlet before the daybreak, I would have let it go. Forward, the forecast of an ardent gale was not much of a comfort.
I drove south, toward the city’s broken edging. I was not heeding the concrete makeup of a proven metropolitan, blurred by the rapid glided windows at my sides; I waited for to be between vast mountains and grassland; sped throughout a dull and misty road surrounded by the dust of age aside it. The distant plains were stretching evermore into my eyes, green and regal hills seemed pale beneath a low and wide cloud layer. A constant line patched in the pavement kept my way a tad unswerving, and after the bent parts by the limits of the state began to look familiar, I turned east, away from my pretense, venturing aside the highway into a sandy path that was narrowed by wired wood.
I was delaying the pace as I went into that way. The ground was just not lifting by the water, and before me a passageway of leaves promoted a lead into my roots. I do not know if it was there when I broke once for a viewpoint, well I had seized a doubtful, scorching memory. I stood inside the vehicle for moments, and observed the withered passage as I peacefully came by; it was bent by a fence of aged hedges that were now an ancient green. After staying down a ramp of rigid soil, I left my car beside the absent shade, where it was safe from the morning’s subtle moisture. I could look now at a comfortable household that filled my head too warmly with cordiality. I had been there before.
I clumsily hurried through the out road bumps of former dried and hardened dirt, and left this furtive tunnel, seeking for whom I was craving to come by.
I walked beside the bent and moldy structure, heading to a corridor of wood outside its arid garden. I had guessed where I would find her; it had not become obscure after those years were spent together. Was she still waiting for me? The passage was a serpent of brush wood; I went around the coiled scrubs before exiting to a dried channel. She was sitting by the now generous river, on a rotten bench of hers between the foliage. It was immediate to the meadow by the building which I met, before verging gauchely on the brook. I gazed at her as I rested beside a singularly ancient, mighty tree, cowardly hiding on the shadow, limits that the green was spacing from the tepid pebbles on which she was now lying. I looked for signs of partial angst, but I did entreat a smile. She eventually had to look around; I wanted her auburn glance.
After she saw me by the wind, she stood up and for a moment we stood still. With a timid smile worth all the joy deemed in that site, she ran toward me before holding my insipid, slender face at last; we looked at each other without fearful glimpses. Her bronzed hair was dancing for the verdant breeze; her air had blushed around me. I was taller; still I was not to remind us that so shortly; she had always taken it so gravely. I griped a silent laugh instead. She had placed her head upon my chest, with no words to our longing. I remained silent at a sudden, arcane surprise; I had not expected her curious beauty could take my breath afar, not so easily again. I had craved this moment too. She sighed after we broke apart after a flash, and hurriedly turned back; without a voice we once had a brief walk from the field to find my pallid ship again.
There was a reason to the yearning. We had not truly talked too much for ages, be it for the sting that kept our bonds untied so long. Such grievance was caused by my delight, by my failure to support her around times, whenever she craved a brother... We curiously had lost the one who knew our lines endangered; the loss was now a bloody stab from fate into our shape, and it was pain that I feared sharing, it was her teary face I had evaded, since I had seen her always smiling; it would wreck me. That was why I expected her to duck, to fear my watch today; I could not blame her if she was not to bear my company. That was why I came surprised. We just had lost our last accord.
The day I came of age, I had left that humid place. She had not. I had promised to return.
“Your car looks frail…” she whispered, giggling nervously.
We had come back into the burrow. I was now letting her inside my modest vehicle, upon the years I didn’t call.
And then, we were moved by north inside the feeble, plain sedan; ghostly on the highway. I was enjoying my new company; even if we had not talked since we met, there was so much time between us, there sure was a medley of sweet stories to divide, and there sure was an ocean of affection to grant… But it was meant to be so quiet, so still, I supposed, as the first, modest raindrops of a pending monsoon had touched the sullied windows at our sides.
“You know… I think I’ll miss him,” She said at once. “After all…”
“It’s much too soon, even still,” I countered.
“Yeah, well… Are we supposed to go-?”
“Not really” I intruded. “I could live and not discern all this. I’m glad we are together. It’s bittersweet,”
She seemed to think I was upset.
“I know you.” And she grinned after she spoke. “And I’ve been weeping like a brat there for hours, I didn’t even try for some remorse, it came alone…”
The rain was drumming even louder. There was a quiet pause.
“You knew I was coming,”
She didn’t speak.
“I know you’re still resentful…” I reached for wit within that line, in vain. “I’m sorry if you regret coming-”
“Of course that’s a lie!” She cried. “I was elated; I forgot it all, I wanted to see you again, so badly… I was forward to the moment I could hug you, it was what held me up, after him… After he-”
She wept.
“After he went” I muttered, mournfully.
There was a long silence after that. I did not know if I had seen a tear drop by her cheek, but rapidly, the hazy way was drenched in water, and I had to slow our pace.
“I do not regret… He was who kept our bond upset.”
She hid her face from my side sight. The pound of rain had concealed her weeping, and we had hours to listen to the steel breeze from the porthole.
“…This was where we used to see”
And the car was turning as we passed by a closing road curve, and to our right, beside the way, there was a rusty train speeding south and through that curve upon the railroad; there were mountains to our left, pale and hidden my the mist that with the railing formed uneven corridors, and us amidst them. I was suddenly caressed with nostalgia. She let a whimper go. And then I thought I saw her smile.
As we went after the bow we both had known, the steam around displayed a wider sight at lower fields; our left was still a mountain, our front was road forward, infinite, and to our distant right, after a great slope of blond pasture there was a lonely, adult willow tree, upon a hill surrounded by molten solitude.
“…That’s….”
I knew that tree… Her words were lost around my wonder. I did not stop, but held quiet glimpses at that sight, as it visibly evoked both of our longings. How could I still want her hatred, how could she give in our love, after feeling my melancholy, prompted by that screen?
I had not cared. For less than a second, I had tripped inside my mind, and I could snatch those memories...
~
In that reminiscence, we were both suddenly lying by the cold shade of the young willow, laughing at the birds, caressed by the tall, yellow grass around. Those were rare moments on which we spent with fun the days of our tedious childhood. I had been ill, but I never traded the beauty of that view for a stay on my warm landscaped house. My disease was always strong by winter. She looked at me, smiling, and without words she voiced her awe before such splendid outlook. We were gazing together at the left end of the crag that stood southwest. The heavens could grasp the perfect road across our forward, and I wanted then to watch the high, drifting from that view, but my eyes were closing.
“Steph!”
I was still sailing in that dream…
“Stephie!” She called, again. “Brother, I want you to see something! Hurry!”
Before I could at least respond, she had seized my hand and dragged me to the top of that solitary hill, and I felt uncertain.
“Look” And she pointed to the righted horizon, letting me gaze at something cruising through the road. I took a moment to respond… It was not far; I merely couldn’t define what it was.
“It’s him,” She grinned. “And he’s coming. Maybe it’s time for harmony!”
It was a white car; I could sense a feeble shiver down my body, as if it displayed an aura, as if it was almost ethereal. The man was looking still across the steel breeze from the open windowpane. It moved like a ghost, eccentric, from the skyline; it evoked a mystic finger, and the quake of dry midwinter. It didn’t close toward us; soon, it was faded in the scope.
“What do you think he must be feeling?” My sister whispered suddenly, gaping at his silhouette. She did not sound inept.
“Does it even matter, now…?” I replied, watching it pass by, holding her hand…
“One day,” And she struck my hand, “We will both cruise through that roadway, brother, and we will find a palace!”
“A palace?” I complained.
“Where we will once be happy.” She added. “Away from the orphanage. You’ll leave first… will you wait for me? It will be a joyful day!”
~
Then I was again sincere, eleven years behind, again driving into rainfall. Ironic, how was this to be recalled so suddenly, and was now this joyful? She was still looking through her window, and we were both unspoken. As we went away from that reminiscent screen, I fastened my sight into the road. It was not until the next congested arch when she once dared to whisper:
“Did you know I love you?”
She was still fixed to fields outside. I took my time to create a dated answer; I did not speak, however. Minutes ago I wouldn’t have believed. Then, I could deem her glare.
”I’d like to hear you say it,”
It was harder than it sounded. I tried for some nerve, hoping not to sound too graceless, still looking at the road. It seemed pefrect as rain was not forgiving.
“I love you, Caroline.”
She grinned, and since I spoke, I craved the moment I could hold her once again.
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