Don’t Wake Her From Her Slumber: A Short Story

“I saw her one morning, sleeping under the cherry tree in the springtime, the time of rebirth and new beginnings. She looked just like I wanted her to, tall, slender, beautiful, in a lovely spring outfit. Taken by the sight of this woman, alone and in nature, I sat down on a nearby rock, drew my easel and paintbrush, and quietly painted my subject. I was careful not to make too much noise, for I immersed myself in the beauty of spring. The birds seemed to sing louder in the trees, the warm breeze rustling through the leaves on the trees whispering for me to wake her, to speak with her, but I loved her for not the way she danced with my angels, but how she slayed my demons. I could not wake her. The moment was too perfect. For nearly an hour, I painted her, the contours of her body, the smoothness of her hair. The peaceful, tranquil look on her face will stay with me forever. It was only and hour and a half, but it felt like a lifetime. There I was, for a moment, I had touched Heaven, for moments like those are the true reason why we live. To appreciate others’ beauty, to cherish them and to love them, like flowers in a wonderful garden of souls. Leaving her where she lay, I left with my painting, quietly walking away, but not before I left her with a cherry blossom, placed neatly in her hair.”

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