A Tribute to a Gorgeous Woman

[Nadindel]

Author's Note: This is the first of a two-part series dedicated to different ideals. Sometimes I tend to feel more poetic and romantic than usual and I lack any other outlet besides writing. Basically, this piece is dedicated to an imaginary woman that embodies the culmination of my own aesthetic values. Every person has something in this fashion, a figure incorporating everything you find most attractive. This tribute takes the form of physical beauty, the second essay shall focus on the intellectual side, titled, 'A Tribute to a Brilliant Woman'.

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Eloquent as I may sometimes be, I fear that I may have chosen the wrong title for this piece, for it would fail so horrendously as a tribute because nothing that my pen may leave behind will ever do you justice! Your unearthly beauty simply cannot be expressed with such limited capacity for expression! As it was, nothing more than a mere glimpse had the power to freeze time in its very tracks and shatter what I would have thought to be an impenetrable barrier of rationality. It has gone to the extent that I would even postulate that it is simply beyond our capacity to even fathom a way to describe you!

Our encounter had been strange enough that it was almost as if Fate herself had intended to intertwine our paths, forcing me to leave my seat during the second act of the Phantom of the Opera’s Gala showing (yes, that infamous scene where Christine descends down to the Phantom's lair for the first time and the titular music cues); my body bowing to your will, utterly convinced it was being compelled by its attraction to that voluptuous-looking chocolate cake in the Main Hall. I innocently left the theater and walked up the side-passage, thinking I would ingest a particularly expensive slice of heaven and satiate my impulsive sweet tooth, but how little did I know of the pulchritude that awaited me!

I had only just sat down with the five-dollar triple-fudge slice that would have slaughtered my taste buds in an orgy of Dionysian magnificence when a glimpse of ginger-red hair drew my eyes away. Oh, what a sight, indeed! Before me stood a far greater source of bliss than even the finest among cocoa-made delicacies! You were at the very utmost climax of majesty- while simply admiring a painting 50 feet away! Such a sight seemed to have defied the very laws of nature itself; even time and space stumbled in your wake!

Watching you, it seems that my body sustained itself in the absence of air for an eternity; my eyes seemed to have rectified their impairment for this very instant, just so it may be able to take in every single detail with the sharpness of a diamond blade. Barely a fraction of a second passed and the impulsive demands of my otherwise dominating sweet tooth were shattered to oblivion.

Oh, how I'd fallen in love with those ginger threads of the finest silk flowing down your elegant frame in delicate and precise waves, parting with your bare shoulders and splitting into smaller streams across the surface of your mystical satin gown. That same gown that was dyed the utterly magical hue of dark spring green, contrasted by the paleness of your skin which could be better described as radiant. The soft and richness of that skin drawing a sharp distinction against every other feature: especially your eyes.

They were clearly the most mystifying of your features: orbs of grey accentuated by bordering lines of red ending at an exotic blade at the outermost corner, surrounded by a mist of the same hue as your dress. Far away as you were, admiring the paintings along the entire length of the hall, it was as if your divine façade stood inches from my own as I basked in every single minute detail.

And yet, I could not help but admire the rest of your lovely silhouette. You were clearly much taller than other women, your slender figure reaching up past the average height of most men, even! But you carried yourself oh-so-gracefully, and that’s what enchanted me the most. Thin jaw held high with pride and dignity, but not with conceit and vanity; your long limbs swayed with elegance that I’d be hard pressed to find anywhere in the world!

When you turned to acknowledge me and my eyes basked in your glorious sight in full, I might have even sword that I have passed to the world beyond, beckoned by your divine nature. And never could I have noticed a shadow that creeped closer from the background any more than I had; a shadow that belonged to a man whose appearance might make another wild with raging jealousy. And how he laid a hand on your waist; how your sculpted body twisted to meet his lips with your own. Yet, what had truly broken my spirit was the mere sight of you walking away into the night.

Though our encounter lasted less than a minute, I feel it might have been more than a year, decade- even an entire century- until you were whisked away and vanished from my sight. Walking away, you left my chest hollow, for my soul seemed to have followed that succubus down to the right hand of Hades himself. Left behind is a broken shell of a man, left only with the mad whispers of that one ghost from his past. You haunt his waking hours and torment his dreams with a paradise that always lies just beyond his reach- there to taunt him, but never there to lay his hands on.

I can only repeat the mutterings of a madman while others mourn the passing of the genius into insanity. My eyes have long glazed over and lost the life they used to have; my fingers creak in the dearth of that youthful agility they shall never regain; my heart has even lost the fiery passion that once drove it to excellence and beyond. Barely have I reached my twentieth year and I already feel like a broken down old man, left to wallow in the misery that your absence has brought.

I can only write this tribute to a gorgeous woman, and merely hope that I can exchange it for the very soul that you’d stolen from me.

[Oreo]

Forgot to mention:
I dug up one of my favorite pieces and uploaded them to the Non-Adult Storytelling forum: https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=82329.0

Go! Read! I love praise, but I worship critiques!

Your prose are certainly praiseworthy. I loved the description and emotion entailed. I have only one small critique. It's one of my peeves and I rankle myself when I find I have done the same. Your sentence here:
Your unearthly beauty simply cannot be expressed with such limited capacity for expression!

...expressed and expression seem too close and come across sounding repeated. Otherwise, a beautiful piece of work.

[Nadindel]

Oh, thanks for pointing it out!
Must have slipped past the editing process.

[Oreo]

I generally reread several times before posting and I still go back months later to read it again and find I did likewise.

[Nadindel]

Oh, definitely!
That piece is a bit old... maybe half a year or more. I've re-read it and changed the wording several times, sometimes with weeks and months in between.
I'm often surprised how I find that 'Oh! I can't believe I didn't see it before'.

Though I think that's one of the marvels of writing and going over your writings: as you progress, you find that while your first draft may come out astonishingly, there are (almost) always means to polish it further.

[Oreo]

I also love the feeling of going back to read something months later and thinking,"wow, I wrote that". We sometimes surprise ourselves.