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1 Title A Tender Heart
The school bell rang out as they ran from the class rooms, down through the corridors and out to the locker rooms. Tom called out, ‘Frankie did you get your bike fixed?’
‘Yeah,’ she replied, ‘I’ll meet you out the back’.
Tom grabbed his bike, flew around the corner of the school, and raced towards the lake. Frankie was sitting on her bike by the water’s edge; pony-tail flying in the breeze, fringe protruding from under her school cap. His heart gave a familiar tug. He remembered the school social; laughing as they danced around the room; her warmth as he held her close. Tom yearned for something more, but Frankie belonged to no-one. Music was her passion and playing the guitar was the most important thing in her life. Tom wished he could play.
They took off on their bikes across the narrow causeway of the lake, down onto the bush track on the other side. It was a short-cut to home where they lived as neighbours. Tom recalled the times he had Frankie on the bar of his bike, dinking her home; arms wrapped around her, her hair brushing his face. Now they flew over the gutters, their bikes going at a rapid pace. Frankie glanced back and laughed, ‘Keep up Tom!’
Tom hung back; his eyes soft and tender as he watched her swerving around on the bike. He planned to take Frankie into town later to buy her a birthday present. He longed to give her something special, just from him.
As they arrived home, Harry flew past on his bike and shouted, ‘Frankie, we’re having a music session, bring your guitar, it’s at the church hall.’
Frankie jumped off the bike. ‘Hang on and I’ll grab it,’ she yelled, running into the house.
Tom cast his eyes down, and made his way up the driveway. Throwing down the bike, he marched into the bedroom, slammed the door shut and dragged the old guitar out from under the bed. Mouth set with determination, he placed his bulky fingers on the rusty strings, grit his teeth and started strumming.
2 Title Love At First Sight
‘Father, it is 2017, I am old enough; I should be married; I need to be married.’
‘What do you mean my son, you need to be married?’
‘I need to have intimacy.’
‘Ahh. Good, your mother will be pleased; she was becoming worried for you. I will find a wife for you my son, trust me.’
‘Allah be praised; thank you Father, but please Father, I want to love my bride, and I want to be happy with her. Please, I do not want just any woman for a bride, I want for there to be romance too.’
‘Trust me Muhammed my son, I will make sure that you are not disappointed.’
‘Yes, my son?’
‘It has been nearly three months since we talked of getting me a wife. Is anything happening?’
‘Yes, I have been speaking with my old friend Aabid. Aabid has many daughters, and one is suitable for marriage.’
‘May I know her name, Father?’
‘Yes, her name is Aisha.’
‘Aisha! Oh, Father, that is such a good sign. She has the same name as our dear prophet’s second wife, and the Hadeeth tells us that he was mightily pleased with her.’
‘Yes, my son, and as Allah, in his perfect wisdom, has chosen to make you in our Prophet’s image, peace be upon Him, she will be perfect for you. She is only two years older than blessed Aisha was when our Prophet took her as his wife. Who knows, perhaps you may become an Iman and aid in spreading our cultural teachings?’
‘But, please tell me, Father, is she pretty?’
‘I have not seen her, but Aabid says that she is pretty and well-schooled in all home duties.’
His wedding day is two months later, and Muhammed the obese dwarf stands in the courtyard after his marriage ceremony. His passion is rising; his eyes are closed. On opening them he sees his father’s token dowry of a white goat standing beside Aisha his eleven-year-old bride as she shyly lowers the hood of her burqa.
Allah be praised; love at first sight!
3 Title BnB
The tears streamed down my face as I walked down the isle solo. From that first moment noticing him in college taking photos of the football team to now seeing him all dressed up waiting for me to join him for the rest of our lives.
What a journey these last few years had been. I couldn’t have been prouder of his quick rise from Intern to Editor at the newspaper. His investigative prowess made it difficult to keep the details of the dress I now wore a secret from him. One of the few secrets we had between us. He’d kept the honeymoon plans a secret from me and I was ok with that, it would make the week ahead even more exhilarating.
The aroma from the bouquet took me back to those lazy spring weekends when he’d pick me up and we’d ride out to our favourite meadow. His back strong and firm against the tree my head in his lap as we took time just to listen to each other.
As I slid my hand into his I was surprised to feel it damp. I’d never known him to have sweaty palms before. My one and only forever and ever, I finally noticed everyone in the church. I wish my parents could have been there, I wish he had a better relationship with his.
We’d written our own vows and I’m glad I hadn’t tried to memorise them as my memory may have failed me under the pressure of the moment. ‘Where’s the photographer oh there she is.’
“Yes I do”
The passion of that first kiss, words fail me. How can one describe something that felt so connected, so deep down right and natural. My face must have given away what I was thinking about next as he looked at me inquisitively.
“I now present to you Mr and Mrs..”
While everyone was cheering I whispered in his ear “you’ll have to wait until the honeymoon to see the something blue”.