Welcome Home – A Short Story

Hi all – so, it has certainly been a while, but I wanted to share a short story with you all, just for fun! It’s one I wrote for a favourite podcast of mine, so I am hoping they will produce it as a spoken story sometime soon, if they do I’ll update you with a link. Hope you enjoy…

I cannot put into words how lucky I feel to have found “the one” out of the 7 billion people on this planet. Do you even know the odds of that happening? It’s just one percent, I think the odds are better than you might win the lottery. I know it’s cliche, but oh… she is perfect in every way. Her radiant auburn hair hangs in loose curls that frame her pretty face, her eyes are emerald green and shine brightly letting slip how fun and vivacious she is, her smile dazzles, her laugh entirely infectious and I just can’t help but chuckle along with her no matter the joke at hand. Her cheeks are a gorgeous rosy colour even without makeup. I told her quietly she doesn’t need the makeup, that she is entirely delectable without it, but she didn’t hear me. I hope you won’t mind my telling you that she simply oozes sex appeal without even knowing she does; her figure petite yet curvy – oh how I long to hold her in my arms… 

I am not a vain, nor a superficial man, I have come to know her better than anyone over the many weeks I have spent with her. My girl is creative and dynamic, an up and coming interior designer, a trailblazer experimenting with different design techniques to create truly innovative ideas. I have come to know what she does when she is alone, that she writes, securing memories to paper, in a journal. I know that she doesn’t bother to put ice cream in a bowl, and that she talks to herself when she’s deep into a design, I know that she dreams of a partner in life who adorns her forehead with tiny kisses as she sleeps. I know her nightmares consist of being chased and followed, ending in her own murder that she’s forced to watch as she floats above watching every fatal blow her body is forced to take. I know every secret, every “skeleton in the closet” as the old adage goes. There are no secrets between my girl and I, except for one – but that’s a surprise… 

When I close my eyes at night and slow my breath, I can feel her head resting on my chest, listening to my heart as it beats for her and her alone. I am there for her, always, to console her when she cries and rejoice when I am able to bring forth that brilliant smile. So you see, throughout our time together we have become incredibly close… but how could we not? She is the yin to my yang. 

I have wiled away the hours simply listening to her talk, telling me all there is to know about her, I never bore of it for my clever, creative, wonderful girl somehow makes her life story come alive in front of me, showing me her life right up until the moment she had entered into my life. The images dancing in front of us, seeming like they had been taken straight from a black and white silent film, space for action cards and important words uttered to her over the years. 

Our days together were either spent exploring the city around us, seeking out the trendiest bars and restaurants or the latest gallery and museum exhibits; or sometimes even taking the train to the coast for a walk along the beach, to breathe in fresh sea air and “blow the cobwebs away” as my girl would say before stopping to have the best fish and chips we have ever eaten – it’s just not the same in the city. She longs to live beside the sea, so she can wake to the sound of the waves crashing into the beach and breathe in the sea air whenever she left the house. I swore to help her to achieve her dream, to give her the house that she has always wanted so that she could then go to town making it into our home.
Sometimes I think I can picture our home in my minds eye, yet I know she will 

surprise me with a home far more beautiful than my scientific surgeon’s brain can even begin to imagine; but I do see us, with our perfect little home, just the two of us. Perhaps we’ll get a dog and take her on long walks across the beach, laughing as she plays in the waves, being overly proud each time she returns the ball to us. Providing us with cute photos to hang in our home, family photos at that. 

I know I am destined to spend the rest of my life with my girl. Not too long from now, the day will arrive for me to get down on my knee in her favourite place on Earth, it is just us on the beach as I ask her to be my wife; watch as happy tears well in her eyes as she smiles.
“Yes!!! Of course…” before pulling me up to her for a kiss and then finishing her sentence, a whisper in my ear “I’ll be yours… for always”. I’ll slide a diamond ring worthy of her onto her finger, before we pose for photo’s with her new ring on show for all to see, for all to know she is promised to me. 

Then the day will come, when I stand in full mourning suit at the top of the aisle of our local village church, decorated tastefully with the same flowers as my buttonhole and her bouquet – white roses, freesias and gypsophila; I will wait, just a little longer to watch her, a vision in a beautifully simple white dress float down the aisle, holding her bridal bouquet a veil gently masking her beautiful face. The vicar will officiate as we exchange our vows and our wedding rings, pronouncing us husband and wife and permitting me to kiss the bride. Then I will walk her back down the aisle as completely mine. There will be photos of us on the beach in which she will look perfect, some of them on her own for me to frame for my desk at work, and the rest together. Followed by a reception in a location overlooking the sea, each table with a stunningly designed centrepiece by my beautiful new wife, each table set perfectly, ready for us to celebrate with all of her friends and family, her favourite meal as the wedding breakfast… 

I have dreamed of this moment for so long, of laying beside her for the first time, that I can hardly believe she’s here now. She is finally here. After spending so long searching for her, finding her was… well… forgive me, my words seem to have failed me, but I did it. I found her and I know she has been searching for me too, trying to find me in the same way one might try to find a needle in a haystack. We have found each other. 

I have been so patient, you see. I have been with her for longer than she knows. Now I just have a little longer to wait, for her to wake up beside me. Waiting for that sleepy little smile as she snuggles back down into bed, the way she does every morning. I have kept guard over her to make sure she is alright, gently brushing her hair from her face and placing tiny kisses on her forehead, just as she wrote about in her journal. Keeping her company, watching the rise and the fall of her chest with each breath, my breathing aligned to hers. Covering her up and keeping her warm, holding her hand and waiting. Just a little longer now. 

Soon she will awake to discover her new home beside the sea. I came across it online and I didn’t even need to see it to know it was just what I had been looking for. it is most definitely what you would call a “fix-er upper” as the estate agent warned me. Once the purchase had completed I collected the keys from the key safe on the property, I opened the door and walked around the bare, dated interior, floorboards creaking below my feet, but it was beautiful, with tall ceilings, a grand sweeping staircase, up onto a landing, a stunning victorian fireplace in the living room. I smiled as I wandered through our new home, knowing would eventually have her stamp all over it. Now she can view the sea from her bedroom window, so I have left it open just a little so that she will be able to hear the waves as they crash into the shoreline, and pull back ready to swell once more, as she awakes beside me. In our new bedroom the wallpaper, covered in once vibrant roses, is peeling away from the walls; the floor is bare floorboards making the room feel uncared for, almost unloved, but I know that she will pour love into this room through her designs, creating the perfect bedroom for us both. It was empty, of course, but now it contained a new bed resting on a rug, and the same chest of drawers and dressing table as the ones she already owns at her previous home. The bed was covered in a pure white sheets and duvet cover, and a thick duvet so that she does not feel a chill. Our bed had been ready for her to lay in for weeks before I was ready for the surprise to begin. 

She stirs, and a streak of excitement runs through me. I’m not sure how much of the night before she will remember, of arriving at the bar I so carefully chose to meet her in. She did not know it was me she would meet last night… well never mind that, it’s not important, the point is she finally got to meet me. I first saw her standing at the bar, nursing an almost empty glass of white wine, she wore an off the shoulder figure hugging red dress and black heels, a black clutch bag rested on the bar. 

“Didn’t turn up?” I asked her from down the bar a little, she nodded before taking a sip of her now empty glass of wine, confirming my little trick had worked, she thought she’d been stood up.
“What a small world,” I told her “me too.” She looked up at me, giving me a small smile of solidarity
“Can I make the best of an otherwise wasted evening by buying you a drink?” I asked. She smiled shyly and accepted, I smiled back and suggested she find us a table. I purchased the drinks and before taking them down, carefully choosing my moment, slipped a little ‘extra something’ into her drink 

We sat at a small round table, her drinking white wine while I had a tonic water to drink. I could tell that she knew who I was, her warm smile that seemed to make her eyes shine that much brighter. She found me as funny as I knew she would, her laughter a melody to my ears. She told me all about her latest work success and I finally got to tell her how wonderfully she had done – after all, it had been featured in a national magazine. Soon after that, I could tell the ‘extra something’ had begun to work, she was fighting to stay with it, feeling no doubt, a little drunk almost. She fought it hard, but soon had to give in as the room began to spin. 

“Are you feeling alright?” I asked her softly, and when she confessed to me that she was not well, I immediately offered to drive her home. As I was aiding her to stand, and I slipped my arm under hers, I was finally close enough to her to smell her perfume, white rose and freesia. Then remembering her bag, I got her to the car. I helped her into the front passenger seat, leaning over her to put on her seatbelt, then I must confess, I could wait no longer and as I began to withdraw from leaning over her I gently placed a kiss on her lips and whispered “Don’t worry, I’ve got you..” Then using the control panel on the door of my Mercedes I leaned her back as the black that had been niggling at the edge of her consciousness took over and she blacked out. I hoped she would forgive me, but I went into her bag to find her phone and turned it off so it could just be her, and I. Then I drove her home, to our home. 

All those months spent getting to know her will finally pay off, carefully listening to everything I possibly could, laying in her bed, breathing in her smell, learning all of her greatest wishes, darkest fears and deepest secrets, only known to her journal. Opening her drawers to discover her clothes size so that I might buy her a whole new wardrobe ready for her new home. I took photo’s of the dental products she uses and bought her a new set for the new house, I did the same for her lotions, potions and her makeup, I noted her shoe size to buy her some waterproof walking boots for those long walks we’d bound to be enjoying not long from now. I made sure to buy her a new journal, engraved with her name and a beautiful new pen to write in it with, also engraved with her name. I bought her sketch pads, and pencils, rulers ready for her designs to fill, along with piles of home magazines from which to draw inspiration. She will be so grateful and proud of me for going to so much effort to be so thoughtful, to have remembered all of these things to help her feel more at home. The last thing I wanted was for her to panic she wouldn’t have anything she wanted or needed to help her feel more at home. 

Once we arrived at home, I carried her inside and laid her down upon the bed, and retrieved her the white pyjamas I had chosen for her, a button down blouse style top with short sleeves and matching shorts. Slowly I undressed her, unzipping her dress and working it up over her head, removing her bra before gently exploring every inch of her perfect canvas. Her pure beauty radiated throughout her body, her neck so soft and just yearning to be kissed, the curvature of her breasts, her perfectly flat stomach and her incredibly sexy legs… but I was well behaved and dressed her in her pyjamas, wishing only for her first night with me to be comfortable for her. So I tucked her into bed, before climbing into bed beside her, almost unbelieving that this moment was truly happening, that she was truly finally with me. I could not help but soak her presence in, yet I fell asleep at some point during the night, my arm over her stomach, my head tucked close to hers. 

Her eyes began to open, and she tried to move her arms, but alas she could not – not yet at least, the sound of chains hit against the metal bed frame, rousing her further from her deep slumber, her eyes found mine and I could see her begin to register who I was, that I was with her last night and just as she went to speak I put my finger to her lips. 

“Good morning sweet girl” I told her, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek. “Welcome home.”