The pink gauzy curtains billowed as the breeze sailed in through the open window on the third story of the mansion. She was there- but then again, she was always there, singing her song, and staring down at the ground below. Something about a man coming to carry her off. They were always afraid she’d come tumbling out of the window someday. That stupid window just wouldn’t close. That’s why the guards were placed there.
She wasn’t a princess, nor anyone as important, but they felt a need to protect her. It wasn’t until later that they noticed him. He stood behind her, his fingers brushing against her tawny skin under her golden hair. She never knew. He followed her, with a tender glance, as she hummed the tune of the song she sang everyday at the same time. They would come listen, linger there until it got too sad. But most of them saw him. Entranced by the silver sheen of his skin, they stood watching, while his gaze only focused on her. They speculated about who he was. Her lover, her husband… no one knew. She hadn’t left the third story of the mansion in three years. She was so young to be living all alone. And so beautiful. At night, everyone wondered as they lay in their own beds about what she and that man did. If you were there, you would know that every night he caressed her as tenderly as any lover or husband ever would. But she never knew. At night as she slept peacefully, he sat at the edge of her bed. Thinking it was the wind brushing against her back, when really it was the delicate stroking of his hands,she pulled the covers up closer. When her heart fluttered in her chest from his loving kisses that caressed over the silky skin of her breasts, she moaned, her dream becoming one with the reality of him. Still, she never knew. He would continue to haunt her. She would never know that she was being haunted, but they knew he was there. They didn’t know she was being haunted either. When he touched the skin nestled and sheathed under some satin material, her face would flush and her eyes would shine. Thinking she had not awakened from some wonderful dream, she would blink her eyes twice, left with a feeling she would never get from a mortal, not knowing quite where it came from. But they knew. Indirectly, they knew who gave her heart palpatations in the middle of the night. But they didn’t know she couldn’t feel it. Was she the ghost, or was he? Neither of them seemed real. Some kind of mystical illusion that could not escape their minds. Her song was enchanting, it held them there. They heard the same song everyday, and never seemed to notice that the day would repeat itself. They could see both of them, her the sun, him the moon. A flower sheathed in frost. He relished every square inch of her golden skin, as she relished every caress of what she thought was the whispering wind, or some wonderful dream. And forever this would circulate, everyone so un-knowing of what exactly to make of it. And forever they would remain. Ageless, as the day repeated itself once more.I’m not exactly sure how to split this into paragraphs. Any professionals got any tips?
you have the paragraphs sorted out perfectly well. but you need to make it a little tighter, and try not to repeat. i quite like the story, though. i’ve made a few alterations which may not be immediately noticeable:
“The pink curtains billowed as the breeze sailed in through the open window on the third storey of the mansion. She was there- but then again, she was always there, singing her song, and staring down at the ground below. Something about a man coming to carry her off. They were always afraid she’d come tumbling out of the window someday. It just wouldn’t close. That’s why the guards were placed there.
She wasn’t a princess, nor anyone as important, but they felt a need to protect her. It wasn’t until later that they noticed him. He stood behind her, his fingers brushing against the skin beneath her hair. She never knew. He followed her, with a tender glance, as she hummed the tune of the song she sang everyday at the same time. They would come listen, linger there until it got too sad. But most of them saw him. Entranced by the silver sheen of his skin, they stood watching, while his gaze only focused on her. They speculated about who he was. Her lover, her husband… no one knew. She hadn’t left the third storey of the mansion in three years. So young to be living all alone, and so beautiful! At night, everyone wondered as they lay in their own beds about what she and that man did. If you were there, you would know that every night he caressed her as tenderly as any lover or husband ever would. But she never knew.
At night as she slept peacefully, he sat at the edge of the bed. Thinking it was the wind brushing against her back – when really it was the delicate stroking of his hands – she pulled the covers up closer. When her heart fluttered in her chest from his loving kisses that tiptoed over the tight skin of her breasts, she moaned, her dream becoming one with the reality of him. Still, she never knew. He would continue to haunt her. She would never know that she was being haunted. They didn’t know it either. When he touched the skin nestled and sheathed under some satin material, her face would flush and her eyes would shine. Thinking she had not awakened from some wonderful dream, she would blink her eyes twice, left with a feeling she would never get from a mortal, not knowing quite where it came from. But they knew. Indirectly, they knew who gave her palpitations in the middle of the night. But they didn’t know she couldn’t feel it. Was she the ghost, or was he?
They both seemed some kind of mystical illusion that could not escape their minds. Her song was enchanting, it held them there. They heard the same song everyday, and never seemed to notice that the day would repeat itself. They could see both of them, her the sun, him the moon. A flower sheathed in frost. He relished every square inch of her golden skin, as she relished touch caress of what she thought was the whispering wind, or some utopian dream. And forever this would circulate, everyone so un-knowing of what exactly to make of it. And forever they would remain. Ageless, as the day repeated itself once more.”