First Kiss

This is her first kiss.

They walk together; he leads her gently with his hand on the small of her back. They move slowly but precisely, each placing their feet as if the fate of the world depends upon it. He looks over at her and smiles reassuringly, but she is too nervous to smile back. No man has ever touched her like this before, as if he wishes that he could remain next to her forever.

The sun is bright, though still drowsy from its long sleep. Mist rises from the ground, coating the ferns’ fronds with a mysterious glow. Despite her melancholy, she cannot help but glance sideways at her companion. From the way he looks at her, she could almost believe that he loves her.

The pair walks a little further. She closes her eyes and revels in the strange perfection of this moment. Despite everything that came before it, she is content. She wants this to go on for eternity.

Too soon, though, they stop in front of a brick wall. He turns to her, and her heart leaps in a sudden spark of fear. She is not used to these emotions, these feelings which are threatening to overwhelm her, and she gasps. The sun is suddenly too hot, and the sky is far too bright of a blue. Leaning against the wall for support, she looks at him. Her lips are parted; her eyes are wide, afraid, and beautiful.

“Cigarette?” he asks her. He holds one out, looking nervous now.

She barely manages to shake her head.

“I do not blame you,” he says. Dropping it back into his pocket, he swallows hard. He looks at her, and she wonders if this is the first time he has ever walked this way with someone. She fiercely hopes that he has not, that she is special to him.

Unable to move, they stare at each other, each seemingly frozen in the morning air. Their hands are both stretched out slightly, not touching, but only a breath away from each other. She feels as if years are passing.

A sudden shout from some distance away startles them, and they jerk apart. She blushes, and he looks toward the source. He nods and begins to walk away, but turns back.

He takes hold of her face and kisses her the way she always dreamt of being kissed, sweet and loving and firm and full of promises. She clings to him, trying to make it last, but the kiss ends quickly. He pulls away, his eyes wet, and runs from her.

She wants to cry, to beg him to come back, but she bites her lip. She blinks as the sun shines off the metallic sheen of their polished guns. There is one loud bang, and she slowly falls to the ground.

He lowers his gun and crumples to the ground, weeping. The hard soldiers around him do not comfort him.

This is her last kiss.


--another "classic," slightly edited for improved writing ability. It was for some sort of writing challenge that was the title and the required use of a few words. I forget which ones, though I know that "ferns" was one of them. It's a bit melodramatic, and I need to bring up that wall more subtly, but it was a good stretch for me.