Dearest,
I almost could not bring myself to write to thee. I wish had the power to change our fate, but I do not.
I am increasingly sorrowful for my decline of comfort. First I wrote thee soothing sonnets, then weaker plays, and finally, pathetic letters. I did love thee, and even today it is thy heart that I love.
My throbbing affection for thee runs thru my heart like the sharpest of daggers, it cuts me to the very quick knowing that power and money have purchased thee- O!- how it burns me! My love for thee will be the downfall of my being... I must make myself know thou art a taken lady.... Ah! but tis an hard way to go, a rough path to follow! I hate my own life for letting thou steal my joy, my whole self.
Why do I, even now, write to thee? Thou hast cursed me to die alone, wanting; yet thou have blessed me with hope, I shall yearn for your love to my grave.
I always wondered about my name, now it haunts me with it's irony.
Yours,
Ian Grieves
A woman stands beside a large fire place, crying. The faded yellow paper upon which the above note was written is now clutched in her hand, she leans towards the flames and reads it for the umpteenth time. She hears a noise from the great hall and casts the note into the fire, and whispers, 'I will never, never forget thee, Ian.'
'Jewel?' A deep voice called.
A large man strode into the room, 'There thou art! Have thee been crying, dearest?' He asked concerned, 'Has something occurred?'
'No, no, it's nothing, a friend of mine passed away...' Jewel said.
'I am sorry to hear that, but the guest are arriving and I need thy help to welcome them to our home.' the man said.
'Alright, Herman, I will be just a moment more, tell them I am getting ready.' she sniffed.
'As thou wish.' And Herman exited the room.
'Pull yourself together, Jewel!' She chided herself.
'You know you have a position and stability here... Herman is a good man.... but I don't love him...' She thought bitterly.
And this poor young woman would be unhappy for the rest of her long life.
-Cedar
I almost could not bring myself to write to thee. I wish had the power to change our fate, but I do not.
I am increasingly sorrowful for my decline of comfort. First I wrote thee soothing sonnets, then weaker plays, and finally, pathetic letters. I did love thee, and even today it is thy heart that I love.
My throbbing affection for thee runs thru my heart like the sharpest of daggers, it cuts me to the very quick knowing that power and money have purchased thee- O!- how it burns me! My love for thee will be the downfall of my being... I must make myself know thou art a taken lady.... Ah! but tis an hard way to go, a rough path to follow! I hate my own life for letting thou steal my joy, my whole self.
Why do I, even now, write to thee? Thou hast cursed me to die alone, wanting; yet thou have blessed me with hope, I shall yearn for your love to my grave.
I always wondered about my name, now it haunts me with it's irony.
Yours,
Ian Grieves
A woman stands beside a large fire place, crying. The faded yellow paper upon which the above note was written is now clutched in her hand, she leans towards the flames and reads it for the umpteenth time. She hears a noise from the great hall and casts the note into the fire, and whispers, 'I will never, never forget thee, Ian.'
'Jewel?' A deep voice called.
A large man strode into the room, 'There thou art! Have thee been crying, dearest?' He asked concerned, 'Has something occurred?'
'No, no, it's nothing, a friend of mine passed away...' Jewel said.
'I am sorry to hear that, but the guest are arriving and I need thy help to welcome them to our home.' the man said.
'Alright, Herman, I will be just a moment more, tell them I am getting ready.' she sniffed.
'As thou wish.' And Herman exited the room.
'Pull yourself together, Jewel!' She chided herself.
'You know you have a position and stability here... Herman is a good man.... but I don't love him...' She thought bitterly.
And this poor young woman would be unhappy for the rest of her long life.
-Cedar
I write a blog which I have entitled “Accordingtothebook” and I’d like to invite you to follow it. I’m your newest follower.
ReplyDeleteTo answer your question...KJV and NASB
ReplyDeleteDo you any meaningful differences?
ReplyDeleteHello,
ReplyDeleteI just came over to see who you was after reading comments on Steve Fennel's blog. Carry on writing Cedar, you obviously like old English. By the way, I would do the same as you if stuck down the well, and also make sure the 'slinky?' ( is that a snake ) was rescued too.
Yes, I enjoy old english, but I like all kinds of writing. No, the slinky isn't a snake, but yah I won't forget it! XD
ReplyDelete-Cedar Sunshine