Waiting For Iliya. 

My story from the painting, the prompt supplied by Jane Dougherty. Thank you Jane! 

painting by Iliya Repin ,

Margarita waited at the river on the predetermined night … just as she had promised. She brought his faithful dog though she thought, five years passed would surely have switched his allegiance.  Margarita tried not to remember the promises once made for fear of being a fool, she had not spoke of her secret beau or told a living soul why she thwarted all advances. Her parents had not taken kindly to her refusal to commit to suitors presented frequently over the period. Mother couldn’t comprehend why such a rough working hound was loved so dearly, as Margarita had kept him close for many a year.

A fluttering in her tummy and less than calm colouring was thank goodness disguised by the moonlight. Patiently they waited by the waters edge, she questioned her memory, tried hard to recall the tone of his voice, the turn of his strong jaw. Now only time lay between Love and a broken heart.

Dog lifted his head, pricked his ears and with a low grumble he rose from the bank. Margarita didn’t notice as the wind filled her ears she continued to gaze in the other direction. Dog’s grumbles became unmistakable growls, she turned to sooth him when in the distance she caught sight of it. A canal boat, there on the bow stood the unmistakable figure of Iliya, his wavy hair flopping carelessly over one eye as the wind ruffled it, a flat cap he pushed to the back of his head and the teeth… how she longed to feel the nibbles down her neck, and see the broad smile showing those teeth. As man leapt a ground, dog slipped from his lead and pounded towards him. Margarita hand on her beret gazed on. Her beau had come as promised, he left as a penniless artist, to earn enough to come for his bride. Her heart was lodged in her throat as he swept her off her feet and carried her aboard her new home…

 

“Have you been swept off your feet?

Were you brush in hand doing the sweeping?

leave me a note I won’t tell your secrets… 

56 thoughts on “ Waiting For Iliya. ”

  4. Ah Ellen, you write so wonderfully that I’m easily absorbed into your writings and drawn in to partake in the adventure. So therefore it results to, yes I allowed the sweeping take place, until I returned to reality. 👍🏼

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    1. What a beautifully constructed comment, and one of the calibre I most enjoy. To find ones niche in the art of the pen one must be fearless when challenged and bold when attempting an unfamiliar genre. Put simply. .. “cor! You en alf kind guvnor” *cough* “sorry. I got a little carried away”. *punches air* thank you do come again soon. 😉😇😯😆

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      1. lol you’re a pleasure to converse with, I love thy humour.
        Well thank you for admiring my art of commenting, it naturally flows after reading a wonderful work of art. It’s all about the constuctionism.
        But I must admit my favourite work of art on thy blog is *Drums roll* 3 line tale on Autumn. 💐

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          1. I had a good gander at the chin wag that has taken place lol. I’ve left a few lines attributed to the piece.

            I must say you have captured it very well. The chin wag of course.

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  5. Pingback: Microfiction challenge Moonlit night: the entries – Jane Dougherty Writes

  6. Great story Ellen. I like the vampire twist at the end. I hope they are both happy and she doesn’t get er, drained. Hopefully he’s still the beau she thought he was. Great write. I enjoyed. I’ve been swept off my feet but the let down was harsh 😭

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    1. Wow vampire, now that is what I see, although I was trying to convey that at thr time… back in the 1800’s a fine set of teeth would make a girl swoon as dentists and hygiene were things of the future. Child bearing hips a man looked for rather than figure or intelligence, a stron man to work and a full head of hair with a fine set of gnashers was a woman’s millionaire. I am pleased you came and put a fresh spin on what and where this could go. Have a fab week. 😇

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      1. Thank you Ellen. I never thought of that you, you are right for both men and women, nice teeth would be a good thing in the time period, as was hips, curves, nice hair etc… I had an ex from Morocco originally. When he was young, when you had a cavity, they brought out and pulled the tooth out — no freezing, not any kind. Not even whiskey or some type of alcohol as it’s mostly a Muslim country.

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  8. Beautiful tale Ellen. Have I been swept off my feet? Only once my mother did so when I got in her way one day when she was cleaning….I think I had a habit of getting in the way….

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  10. What a gorgeous tale. Lovely build up, keeping us waiting as she has waited, and the dog growling, leading us to wonder if something bad is coming and nothing good. But then love conquered all in the end. Really well written and an enjoyable read 🙂

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