Story Time

A while ago, my friend Figs wanted me to tell a story. Somehow, I was able to make one up on the spot... and it managed to satisfy my self-critical personality. So, I decided to share it with you. It uses one of my most favorite themes: innocence (I, for one, get all giggly and childlike inside at any reference or mention of a childhood show). The shuffle of grass tickles the ears of a young boy, his feet producing the sound as he strides down a swollen bump in the green field. Light emits from his neck-length, golden hair. Caressing each strand, the wind blew the foliage on his head back,causing it to whip behind him in an excited frenzy. A small cottage lay in the distance. Ricky was sprinting to his friend Heather's house, and he would not rest until he got there. The dirt below the boy levelled out. Ricky got to be more comfortable with each step on flat ground and picked up speed. Soon the chopped blades of grass grew to ankle height. A plethora of flowers dyed pink, yellow, purple, and blue joined in, decorating the field with a mosaic of color. The petals of these mosaic tiles gently skimmed Ricky's knees, yet they managed to dodge receiving a violent smack from the  menacing bone as he ran through. The small cottage appeared much larger now. Nearing the end of this natural masterpiece, Ricky could almost hear Heather chiming his name with her sweet, melodious voice. Then it echoed with greater intensity. Ricky slowed his pace, confused at the quite vivid level of reality in that last call. A friendly sensation hit his ankle. Not a flower this time as he had guessed it would be,  but not far from it. Ricky lost all balance and let his leg come out from under him. He landed softly, however, thanks to the comfortable ferns cushioning his fall. He turned over onto his back to see Heather on her knees by his side. Her eyes, white pearls painted with a ring of hazel and a blotch of ebony, stared into Ricky's. Heather smiled at him with those white pendants in her mouth. Ricky grinned back, his cheeks painted a nervous scarlet. His hand pinched the stem of an iris and floated through the air toward her. "This is for you," was all he could say. She took the field's golden offspring, her cheeks matching the color of his. Ricky carefully relocated a portion of her hair back to its proper place behind her ear. She locked it into that spot by placing the flower in front of it. Heather laid down on her back next to Ricky, her hands at her side. Together they gazed at the white cotton above them in the azure Atlantic sky. Ricky's fingers crawled along the grass toward Heather. Her fingers did the same. She opened her petite hand to reveal her palm, awaiting his. Her skin tingled Ricky's trembling hand. His smile stretched across his face, extending through the gap between them to meet Heather's. Slowly the gaps closed and the smiles hid behind eager lips. For a moment they locked their faces together. Then, they laid down and looked back up toward the sky, bathing in silence and contentment.