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The Love was Forbidden

Story ID:6203
Written by:Michael Timothy Smith (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:Fiction
Location:Caldwell ID USA
Year:2010
Person:Tamesia
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OurEcho Preface This post deals with a mature theme or contains explicit language. While the post is not extremely violent or pornographic, it does contain language or explore a subject matter that may offend some readers. If you do not wish to view posts that deal with mature themes, please exit this post.
I was entered in the 24-Hour Short story Contest this weekend. The topic stumped me.
I think I just wrote one of the corniest
things I have ever written.

On another note, I always think I have a great entry
and never make the money round. Maybe if I think it
is corny, it will, but I doubt it.

You be the judge. I had 950 words to work with.


Here's the topic they sent
The young girl pulled another pair of pants from the pile of
laundry. Between the hot black iron and the fireplace, it was
stifling in the small kitchen. The only relief she could hope for
was a small breeze coming from the window overlooking the distant
waves. Her arm started moving methodically once again and, just
as she started to fantasize about a forbidden swim, the iron
stopped at a bump in the pocket…

~~~~~

WORD COUNT: Stories for today's topic must not exceed 950 words.
(Your story's title is *not* included in the word count. We use
MSWord's word count function to determine the final word count
for submissions.)


The Love That was Forbidden



Tomesia splashed in the cool waters of the Gulf – a rare treat for the little slave

girl. Separated from her family in a slave trade, she considered her new masters her

family. For her labors she was fed and given a bed to sleep. She worked hard but didn’t

complain. Many of her kind worked in the fields under the scorching sun and slept in

shacks. Her duties were to cook, clean, and whatever tasks her master demanded. She

carried firewood for the stove, changed linen, and helped raise the babies, which seemed

to multiply like mosquitoes in a stale pond.

On this day, the family vacationed at the ocean. Tomesia was allowed to be one of

the children. She and Stephen, the master’s son, splashed in the waves. Stephen treated

Tamesia more like a family member than a slave. She was only nine, but she secretly

loved Stephen, who was eleven. His dark hair and eyes, ready smile, and kind heart, were

the only bright spot in her life.

Stephen splashed her, laughed and dived under the waves before she could return

the favor. She waited patiently. His head broke the water three feet from her. As his

mouth opened to gasp air, she used both hands to create a wave, which hit just as he

inhaled.

He got his breath back and snarled, “I’ll get you for that.” But the twinkle in his

eyes betrayed him. He rushed forward, grabbed her, and both went below the surface.

Bubbles floated around them in the churning water. She felt his arms around her and

struggled. In the haze of water, his face drew closer. His lips touched hers – a tender

young kiss.

Her pounding heart depleted her oxygen. She kicked for the surface. Their

heads rose from the waves together. “You kissed me!” she gasped.

“I did not.”

“You did too.”

“I did not! If you say anything, I’ll deny it.”

The joy she felt seconds before was replaced with shame. Although young, she

her heart was full of love for a boy she couldn’t have. He was one of the rich whites. She

was a slave girl.

They grew up together. He became more handsome. Although he ignored her

in front of others, she felt his eyes on her budding body when he thought no one looked.

Five years after that first kiss, the family returned to the beach. Tamesia, now

a young woman, her body shapely and lean from hard work, swam alone. Stephen

stayed in the sand with others of his age.

Tamesia relished the few moments of freedom. She dove under the water looking

for shells. The salt water burned her eyes, but she kept them open. She spotted an oyster

half buried in the sand and swam deeper. Her chest was about to explode. The pressure in

her ears caused her head to throb, but still, she kicked deeper. The shell grew larger. Her

fingers sifted through the sand. The shell was hers.

She swam to shore, sat in the sand, and as her breath returned, she cracked the

shell on a rock. Inside was a pearl finer than the ones in the strand the master had gave

his wife for her birthday. She would hide this. A slave girl is not allowed to have wealth.

It would be taken from her.

That night, she clutched the pearl. The family slept. She couldn’t. The waves

roared into shore. She felt their call and slipped from her bed. There was no moon, only

stars this night. Other than the waves, there was no sound. She let her gown slip from her

shoulders and lay the pearl on top. Her dark skin blended with the night. No one saw her

as she waded into the water and swam.

When she tired, she swam to shore. Her dark skin reflected the twinkling stars

as the waves sucked at her feet. She felt the sand wash from under her toes with each

wave withdrew to the sea.

Tamesia reached for her gown. “Tamesia?”

“Who’s there?” She grabbed the gown to cover herself.

“It’s me!”

“Stephen?”

“Yes! What are you doing?”

“I was swimming …please turn around.”

“Tamesia …” He didn’t say more, only reached for her. His lips were on hers

again. Her hard nipples pressed against his chest. Lower down, she felt the pressure

of his need. They collapsed into the sand. She felt a sharp pain and then pleasure.

She grasped at the sand as waves of pleasure swept through her body. Her fingers

clutching for anything that would hold her to the ground. She felt something round –

the pearl.

They lay panting in the sand. She pressed the pearl into his hand. “For you.”

“What is it?”

“I found it today. It’s a pearl for you.”

“Tamesia?”

She knew what was coming. “Yes?”

“You know we can’t. What would people think? This can’t be.”

Her heart broke again,

Four years later, Stephen drowned in a boating accident.

Tamesia pulled another pair of pants from the pile of laundry. They were cleaning

Stephen’s clothes to give away. Between the hot black iron and the fireplace, it was

stifling in the small kitchen. The only relief she could hope for was a small breeze

coming from the window overlooking the distant waves. Her arm started moving

methodically once again and, just as she started to fantasize about a forbidden swim, the

iron stopped at a bump in the pocket.

She reached in and found the pearl she gave him all those years ago. He’d

married, had a child, and then died, but the pearl in his pocket proved the love that

was forbidden.


Michael T. Smith