Lost Romance

Lost Romance

There were things that happened in my life about ten years ago that still have an impact. Even though I lived in a busy metropolis, the summer heat made me long for the peace and quiet of the countryside. My wish to meander among verdant surroundings and tall trees intensified. Armed with a little red automobile and a reliable map, I set off into the nighttime countryside.

Happiness surrounded me in the shelter of my automobile. The grandeur of the countryside emerging in the early morning light made for a magnificent summer. The warmth of the sun caressed my skin, illuminating the sky with a vivid blue, while the birds' lovely tweeting entertained me from the trees. But my automobile suddenly came to a stop.

My mind turned to panic as I recognized the cause: an empty gas tank. Now that I would have to make the journey on foot, I looked at the map to see if there was any indication of a settlement close by, but I was bewildered in the wide open spaces. And then, in the middle of my bewilderment, I saw her.

Her palm was full of wildflowers as she sauntered down the street. Her long, jet-black hair shone in the sunlight, highlighting her otherworldly beauty as she wore a flowing garment. She attracted me right away, so I got out of the car and went up to her.

"Hello," I said, a little shaky in my voice. "I'm disoriented. "Where am I?"

Her blue eyes locked with mine, and she answered, "I'm not sure," her lips forming a soft grin. Join me in visiting the village. Maybe we can help you."

I followed her with hope in my heart, our discussion bridging the gap between us as we made our way down the dirt road. My interest was piqued as we got closer to what appeared to be a charming village.

The village seemed like it was taken from a storybook: charming, old cottages with black and white facades were tucked away among lush fields. However, as I interacted with its residents, I started to feel strange. Their manner of living and their clothes both seemed like remnants of a bygone era.

I could not help but be captivated to Mary and her family in spite of the strangeness. My perplexity was immediately eclipsed by their warmth and hospitality. However, as the day faded into the dark, Mary felt gloomy.

She confided in me quietly, her anguish evident. "I'm not able to tell you," she muttered. "You're only a guest here. Tonight is our last goodbye. You are not safe doing it."

Her words cut right through me, blending with my heart's pain. I understood that I loved her, and it was intolerable to think of leaving her behind. A flame of determination sprang up inside me as I swore to come back.

With confidence in my voice, I vowed to come back for you. "You won't stop me."

Mary met me at the door with a sorrowful heart, her grief reflecting my own. I was traveling back to the town alone at midnight, driven by an unwavering desire to see her again.

Upon reaching the town, I replenished my fuel reserves and sought As soon as I arrived in the town, I filled up my gas tank and asked the inhabitants for information about the village. Their answers were enigmatic, implying gloomy stories of a community lost to the passage of time that only appeared once every ten years before vanishing once more.

When I returned, haunted by the mystery surrounding Mary's town, I saw nothing but empty space where homes and lives had once been. I was overcome with despair when I realized how short our meeting had been. One determination, though, did not waver in the face of the tragic day: to wait for the village to return.

Because I'll be there when the time comes and the village reemerges. My love with the long black hair will be found again. And I'm not leaving before morning this time. I'll remain, nestled in our bereaved love's arms.

I sit here alone in my longing, and like a tidal wave, memories of Mary wash over me. Every second we spent together is engraved in my heart as evidence of a love that knows no bounds to space or time.

Even though two months seems like a long time, I hold onto the dream that when the village returns, Mary will also come to visit me. I'm pushed through the endless wait by the thought of her, her laughter dancing on the breeze, her eyes expressing the depths of her soul.

I find comfort in the memory of our brief touch in the stillness of the night, beneath the stars. The warmth of her smile and the feel of her hand remain, leaving a lasting impression on my heart that doesn't go away with time.

I cling to the hope that Mary will visit me when the village returns, even if two months feels like a long time. The thought of her, her laughter dancing on the breeze, her eyes conveying the depths of her soul, pushes me through the never-ending wait.

The remembrance of our fleeting touch in the darkness, under the stars, gives me peace. The sensation of her hand and the warmth of her smile linger, making a permanent impact on my heart that never fades.