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Kate Burnside

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Edenarnia - The Sequel
by Kate Burnside

Tuesday, November 09, 2010
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Thanks so much for all your lovely comments on the presentations of this romantic tale - I have enjoyed them immensely! :)) As it happens, I AM off to Venice shortly to visit son Giorgio who is studying there this semester. Guess I'll just have to get me a mask! Kiao Kate xx

PS.. spot the "hidden" mistake?!


EDENARNIA – THE SEQUEL


He was thawing even as he kicked caked snow from his boots at the door of the cabin. The wooded path down from the Big House had been frozen with mud and rivulets of ice, snarlingly on guard, he thought, beneath the shortest day’s congealing sky. The scar on his left hand and perpetually unhealed gash to his right had throbbed badly even through the thickly padded gloves.

The heavy pine door grazed the leaf-strewn floor as he pushed it ajar. Funny how the scent of apple blossom was always so strong in a room that had just the solid oak armoire gleaming in its brightest corner. A warmth as if borne on the first rays of spring caused him to quickly shed his frost-spangled overcoat and to cast his clumsy gloves hurriedly aside.

The dress breathed a contented sigh as softly he opened the wardrobe door. It swayed in welcome, its inky beads like sparks from the dying sun. As he had previously done for fifty-one heart-broken days, he took the gown by the waist of its stiffly-boned bodice, fanned its rustling skirts and ran their smooth, healing layers of silk over the raw of his damaged palms.

Then, for hours, they danced – slowly at first (affirming love’s constant embrace), then faster as cold-strewn sands of wintertime flowed towards oceans of another shore. Lifting her Venetian mask tenderly in his hands, he held it close, then at arm’s length – never once taking his eyes from its enduring, fire-lit gaze as they swirled to the muffled waltz of snowflakes beyond the blackened square of window.

They reeled until falling exhausted. Carefully, he replaced the gown on its hanger before huddling by the remembered heat of the long-cold hearth and slipping into fitful sleep.

Sometime later, he was strangely awakened by a strong light seeping through the half-opened doors of the armoire. Inside, the train of her midnight-blue dress was transforming into a virgin snowfield of stars as it stretched upwards into skies of a radiant noonday sun. The awkward stumps of his sheepskin gloves were tiptoeing hurriedly across the floor; they turned and beckoned him urgently with their cheekily-crooked index fingers.

For the first time in months, he smiled. And followed.


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Reviewed by Sheila Roy 11/18/2010
You paint the imagery beautifully, Kate. There's just something so sad about this piece. The loneliness is tangible. Great writing:)
Sheila
Reviewed by Patrick Granfors 11/16/2010
Imagery not unlike Fantasia, gloves and inanimate objects coming to life lifting sadness. Star Trek snowfield. Beamed him up to heaven. Patrick
Reviewed by Barbara Terry 11/16/2010
Sometimes it is not easy to just let go. The memories, the dreams, the nightmares, the sadness are rife with emotional content. This story reminds me of the miser Silas Marner and the little golden haired girl he saw. Memories past and present romp thrugh every imaginable emotion. Thank you for sharing.

May the Lord Bless you, and those whom you love, and be with you always, and walk by your side. With love in my heart, joy to the world, peace on earth, & ((((((((((MANY WONDERFUL SISTERLY HUGGGGSSSS)))))))))), your little sister Barbie.
Reviewed by jude forese 11/13/2010
smooth, effective and totally captures the imagination ... an adventure that has its way if supporting its own momentum ...
Reviewed by Jon Willey 11/12/2010
Kate, is the whim in the breeze of creative works. A fresh and refreshing breeze it is. I'll whisper it to you. Write on and please me more. Love and peace to you my dear friend. Jon Michael
Reviewed by Gene Williamson 11/11/2010
Write on, dear Kate. Will this also be translated into poetry?
I should add, of course, that there's poetry in the prose. -gene.
Reviewed by Amber Moonstone 11/11/2010
This is an amazing sequel, I can't get enough of your characters, cannot wait for part three!

Have a save journey and return back healthy and refreshed. Venice, oh my, lucky you!!

Kiss a hot Italian man for me..lol

Much peace, love and light,
Amber
Reviewed by Felix Perry 11/11/2010
I love the way you blend reality with romantic fantasy to create such a perfect picture of a yearning heart that has not given up the ghost of love. Haunting, yearning, needing....wow it has it all. Have a good trip Kate but hurry back.
fee
Reviewed by Charlie 11/10/2010
By now, I'm calling your characters Edna and Arnie. (Hope that's okay with you.) I must say that I found this to be sweetly romantic and satisfying.

I like to think that death came softly to your "son of Adam" in the form of a glove, and led Arnie from his Appled Eden into that white and wonderful world of Narnia. Of course Edna will be waiting for him by the lamp post, and from there, they will have perhaps a few more dances, but certainly many more adventures.

I truly enjoyed these. --Charlie
Reviewed by Morgan Merriweather 11/10/2010
captivating dress! and for such a cabin in the woods. love it. Morgan
Reviewed by Axilea MU 11/10/2010
Dark and fiery slowly turned into fairy like... yet another facet Kate.
Have a lovely stay in Venice; I actually used to be quite addicted to the place for many years. :)

Axilea
Reviewed by John Flanagan 11/9/2010
"...a virgin snowfield of stars..."...
the field sparkles and Kate shines wonderfully.

John
Reviewed by Andy Turner 11/9/2010
LOL, I was thinking Mills and boon with Barbara Cartland.
Why do you fear putting your stories in the correct area?

Nice fluffy tale, but normally I won't read a story in the poetry area.
Reviewed by Kenny Baez 11/9/2010
Mills and Boon meets Jackie Collins meets Kate Burnside, AD poet. Ravishing, and very visual. Snow is a beautiful blanket, and love -
as the Icicle Works sang - is such a beautiful colour.
Reviewed by Paul Berube 11/9/2010
Beautifully done, Kate.
Reviewed by Christine Tsen 11/9/2010
What an exquisite, wonderfully mystical poem of devotion.
Have so much fun in Venice!
Blessings,
Christine
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader) 11/9/2010
Taking the story to it dramatic and fantastic conclusion. Have fun visiting your son in Venice.
Reviewed by Christine Alwin 11/9/2010
Dreamy beauty..please hurry back to share some more :) have a wonderful trip Kate~
Blessings, Christine
Reviewed by George Carroll 11/9/2010
Happy paddling in a Country I wished I had visited. Regis found the hidden mistake. The story was swell.

Georgexx
Reviewed by Karen Vanderlaan 11/9/2010
beautiful writing, such an emotional feel
Reviewed by Regis Auffray 11/9/2010
This is most engaging, Kate; your imagination knows no limits. I've never seen "ciao" spelled as "kiao." Thank you for sharing. Bon voyage to Venice. Love and best wishes,

Regis



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