He picked her up. There was no choice. It was time. Their passion for one another knew no bounds. He knew every emotion she could experience except abandonment. Her joy in his hard body was her strength. She was light as a feather in his arms. He carried her up to the altar, to be an offering for the gods. She was the perfect woman.
She cried in his arms. They’d worked so hard on the timing and planning. Their love, passion and delight in one another was all for naught. He picked her up in his arms. She was light as a feather.
“It’s okay,” he whispered.
“No,” she whispered.
“There will be others,” he comforted her, offering the only solace he knew. His hands cradled her knowing that love and affection might cure her broken heart.
An offering for lust is what she thought. He was so tall. So muscular. Intimidating. He picked her up as if she was light as a feather. Wrapping her arm around his neck, she buried her face against his chest.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered in her ear. I’ve loved you for so long and when I realized you were up for choice, I thought my dream come true.”
“Really?” she asked still curled up.
“Yes. I want to cherish your kisses, inhale your scent and open you like a precious flower,” he said as he kissed her neck.
“But… I thought,” she started.
“No, never,” he said. “You are the jewel of my heart.”
Alright! I almost forgot to write the Flash Fiction Friday! Life has been so hectic that I thought that I had a day more to mull over the prompt and the picture. This one seemed so sad. As if she’d had some life crushing grief or trauma. Hence the first two stories. Then I saw another facet. So dear FFF fanatics, three pieces this time. Our challenge was to use the phrase light as a feather and to accomplish this in 64-123 words.