twas simply a paradise lost

Wasn't it a paradise, the way I lived?

I wake up every morning, with my bedroom floor swept, vacuumed, and mopped, my silky, royal curtains parted to display the brilliant, dazzling sun as it shared its rays with the green, grassy fields that were filled with well-groomed, imperial horses, and dandelions that floated in the summer breeze.

I slid out of my satin night gown, gently laying it in a basket for worn clothes. I stepped into the shower, turning the golden tap and sigh pleasantly as the warm water hit my body, soothing my nerves and calming my thoughts.

My fingers nimbly brushed through my long, luscious hair, well-cared for with all the luxury hair-care products mother had given me for my twenty first birthday, just a few weeks ago.

I stepped out of the shower, the warmth of the water still somewhat lingering on my skin, and I gasped lightly as my toasty feet touched the cold marble, like snow on fire.

It was a delicious sensation, and the more I felt it, the more my face ended up in a woozy state of enjoyment. My soft, spotless white bathrobe was right there, hung on curved hooks behind the carved, wooden door, many fancy French quotes etched onto it.

I dressed in a silk dress, the trail lengthy, but not long enough for me to trip over it. There were extortionate little diamonds on the waist of it, and it looked exquisitely pretty; perfect for me.

I popped a chocolate drop into my mouth, for my father supplied me endlessly with it. I didn't eat them frequently though, only a few times a week, for, even though they're unhealthy, I love the delightful feeling of the chocolate melting on my tongue, its simple sweetness tickling my tastebuds.

I looked at myself in the mirror, admiring the pretty face and well-sewn dress I was wearing. I dried my hair with a Préte hair-dryer, which had almost 5,000 Swarovski crystals decorating its amazingly crafted surface, and it cost me about 10,000.

It was worth it, though, for my friends fuss over it and my mother always borrows it whenever a fancy friend of my father comes over, or a ostentatious event was held in honour of a special occasion, which I found rather funny.

I slipped on my glass high heels, feeling like Princess Cinderella herself, as an outsider once said to me so. I added a white ribbon on my hair, after spending a tad bit of time browsing through my extensive collection of hair ribbons.

After dabbing a little white, then pink powder to my cheeks and tinting my lips slightly with blossom-coloured rouge, which was an old fashioned lip-stick.

Glass-heel after glass-heel fell graciously on the steps down, towards the main hallway of my colossal mansion, which looked more like a castle than a house.

A few maids, who were wiping the floor over and over again, leaving it spotless every time, praised me for how I look and I was much flustered by their rather exaggerating comments and hid my blush with my gold-laced fan.

I trailed along, stepping primly to the dining room, which was the size of an expansive cathedral. My mother and father were already there, sitting with their spines straight for power, money and fame also meant a want for manners.

But, besides them, there was a young man, dressed opulently, with a high-quality tuxedo, a chess-patterned tie, and a grim smile. He raise a hand in salute to me and nodded to acknowledge my presence.

My parents saw this polite gesture that he displayed, turned their heads, and, upon spotting my distinguished figure, pleasantly shown wearing a charming dress with a attractive smile that God had graced upon my lips.

Change of POV - third person

Charlotte Eleanor Laurence was a twenty-one year old woman, who had a happy life as a child, and didn't own any inner child. Her parents struggled when she was little, and were worried for Charlotte's mental health as a kid, for they couldn't give her her wants.

It wasn't because of the hard-money situation, but they wanted to teach and raise Charlotte as a self-less, humble, kind and well-educated child.

And so, not due to their low finance, Charlotte's parents, Dorothy "Daisy" and Theodore "Theo" Laurence, home-schooled Charlotte. Safe at home with no toxic, manipulative and influential friends to darken her life, Charlotte was taught discipline, maturity, responsibility and wisdom to lead a logical, impactful life.

True to her teachings, Charlotte grew a passion for music, teaching and writing. She laboured hard at her writing, crafting phrases of magical words that transported the reader's mind to unreal places.

She loved playing the piano, finding solace in her grandfather's old one with yellow keys that stick sometimes. Patiently, she toiled and learned the notes and chords, and as soon as her father got money to be spared, it was immediately directed at her music lessons.

She learned to read sheet music, and started to make her own sheets of music, that were a pleasant accompaniment to the birds' chirping, or the leaves blowing in the autumn.

Her mother supported her music life fully, and her father stood in awe of his talented daughter. As she grew older, Charlotte realised she liked to be around children and rather loved to teach her friends some useful knowledge.

As her mother had established a school when she was little, Charlotte started to teach her mother's students, calmly facing the children's tantrums with the love of a blooming little woman and the care of a patient little 'mother'.

Without realising, she also loved curiosity. She once wrote a poem about it, a short one, yet it goes so sweet like:

Isn't curiosity, curious?

If we are curious about curiosity,

Are we curious about our own curiousness?

Or are we drowning in a sea of our own curiosity?

Curious as it may seem,

The world is very curious,

This curiousness fills me up with more curiosity,

And I grow more curious than ever about curiosity.

Her parents were pleasantly confused as to what this means when she presented the short poem to them. The three of them burst out laughing, though, when Charlotte herself admitted that she was confused as to what she had wrote.

This same curiosity peaked as she silently observed the young man, so appropriately dressed. Charlotte took her seat next to her mother, and whispered a question to her mother.

"Who is he, mother?" whispered she.

Her mother tilted her head to listen and answered just as subtly.

"A suitor has come for you, and though I don't approve, your father seems very fond of this young man."

Charlotte wordlessly ate her favourite, appetising breakfast consisting of warm scrambled eggs the colour of a cartoon sun, mushroom sausages (for she was vegetarian) with a side of iced water, hot tea, and a delicate plate of symmetrically cut fruits amazingly topping-ed with cream, which was fresh cow's milk mixed along with unsweetened yogurt.

She devoured spoon after spoon, as her father and the stranger exchange words. Her father's tone was unusually excited, and the stranger replied in short, carefully chosen phrases. Trying to act polite, Charlotte thought.

As the four adults neared the end of the first meal of the day, Mr. Laurence finally turned to Charlotte and gushed out everything he knew about the strange suitor.

"Charlotte, my dear. This man's name is Charles Edgar Banks, and he has come to ask for your hand in marriage. He is a very acceptable boy, with appropriate manners and enough money to take good care of you."

Mr. Laurence stopped a brief second for a breather and then-

"He has come from a wealthy family, and said he has seen you on social media. He has admired, respected and has sworn that he'll protect and love you at any cost, no matter what, no matter how. He even swore he would give his life for yours if need be, though that is not wished for."

Another gasp for breath before-

"I really do hope you'll accept him; for your age is one fitting for marriage and Charles is one man to be proud of. I, myself, would boast to all my friends if you were to marry him, and oh! How proud me and your mother would be-" here, Charlotte's mother sent her husband a look, but it was ignored.

Mr. Laurence continued on with no signs of stopping; except for a brief time where he would allow air to exit and new air to enter his lungs.

Mr. Laurence kept talking with a vigour no one in the vicinity has seen, with the exception of his wife, whom he had been with for more than fifteen years.

A few hours later, the three persons of the family gathered for a special occasion: the huge decision of marriage.

Sir Charles has left the estate, and he was to be informed of the 'love of his life' 's decision in two months, which would be the time stated by Charlotte that she'd need for consideration and contemplation.

Charlotte refused to be betrothed to Sir Charles before she got to know him any better. And so, Mr. Laurence was ecstatic when Charlotte said she'd 'hang out', which was slang, and was what Ms. Laurence called a great want of manners, with Sir Charles.

Two months later, Charlotte has fallen head over heels in love with Sir Charles. He seemed almost the perfect person for her to marry. He was wealthy, self-less, kind, humble, a fan of music, an education enthusiast, and a published author himself.

Sir Charles was like a male version of Charlotte, and Charlotte cringed whenever she thought of the days when she had stoutly refused to marry Sir Charles.

Two months after the two months, Sir Charles popped the question and the ring, and Charlotte, in all her euphoria, without using her logical mind, said 'yes' with an obvious glee.

Three months after being officially engaged with each other, the couple fell more in love. Everything seemed so perfect, and it was rather a happy blur.

Charlotte found faith and solace in a man that fulfilled all her needs and desires, and her desire to love and be loved were also contented with cold nights where they would cuddle, or warm nights out where they would have aesthetically pleasing picnic dates.

Meanwhile, Charles had found a woman that he could give all his affection to, and having such a prestigious person as his lover enchanted all his friends and made them envy his great luck.

Charlotte and Charles were the perfect couple, except for the fact that-

Let's not talk about that until they're married, shall we?

It was the third of May, and the birds chirped early, to signal happily the day of the wedding as they rose to greet the dazzling sun rising over the hills in the distance.

Early as it was, Charlotte and Charles had been roused from their separate beds, for they had to sleep in a room different from the other for the old-school tradition was that the groom wasn't permitted to witness the bride until she glided down the aisle between the seats, her pretty white dress trailing in the rear of her splendid figure.

And that happened.

Everything went on smoothly, for the maids dressed Charlotte in a silky dress, made of tarlatan, very much alike to the one that Charlotte had wore when she first locked eye contact with her beloved partner.

A veil the colour of snow was propped up on her head, connected skilfully with the shining tiara she was wearing, which had Swarovski crystals, just like the line of them wrapped around her waist, decorated prettily on it.

Only puff powder and a rouge were added to tint her lips and colour her cheeks. Her make-up was fairly too simple for such an extravagant wedding, and her mother had tossed her hands up in despair, but it was Charlotte's wedding, so it was she, too, who decided how she'd look.

A few hours later, a teary-eyed father named Mr. Theodore Laurence led his daughter down the red-carpeted-with-daisies-on-the-rim aisle.

A daughter named Charlotte Eleanor Laurence held her father's arm tightly, trying hard not to spill out tears, for this was the closest she been emotionally as to when the time her pet bird died.

In front of her was a handsome Sir Charles, dressed lucidly in a tuxedo, with a chess-patterned tie- exactly the same as when the engaged met for the first time.

As she reached the podium, Charlotte turned to kiss both of the cheeks of her father, wiping a tear off one of them with her slim thumb.

Charlotte left her father and turned to face her betrothed.

The pastor coughed into his hand, signalling the need for the whispering audience to subside into silence. The crowd directed their attention to the young couple displayed elegantly.

"Ahem." The pastor cleared his throat. "Will you, Charles Edgar Banks, state your vows?" Charles nodded his assent and took hold of Charlotte's hands.

"Charlotte, you are the only woman I love and will ever love, for the rest of my life. Thank you for coming into and existing in my life. I will now state the vows I swear to you:

One - I will never leave you for another, no matter how pretty this woman may be.

Two - I will always be by your side, no matter what, no matter how. If you fight, I fight. I will accompany you through health and illness, through life and death, and through happiness and sorrow.

Three - I will never hurt you, emotionally, physically, mentally, verbally.

Four - I will take care of you with all my heart, and wish for nothing in return, for that's what love is all about."

And lastly..

Five - I pray for the health of my family and yours as long as I live in this world. I love you and your parents, and your grandparents, and your ancestors, as much as I do mine, for marriage isn't just a connection between two lovers, but rather, the connection of two communities."

The pastor remained solemn as Charles uttered his vows, and when Charles finished, the pastor turned to Charlotte.

"Charlotte Eleanor Laurence, state your vows."

Charlotte nodded her head, and stated the vows she had memorised by now, and surprisingly, hers were alike to those of Charles'.

The pastor declared them husband and wife-

"You may kiss your bride."

The crowd erupted in cheers as they stood up and clapped for the couple's first kiss as married partners.

three years later.

Charlotte and Charles had established a family, and had two rosy children who were home-schooled.

Weird, I don't think Charlotte and Charles deserve a sad ending, but what can I say... the prompt directed me to do so.

Here it goes.

Charlotte and Charles fascinating, perfect relationship started to fall out as their bonds loosened when their children got old enough to move out.

They were only the two of them now, with no one to goof around with, and, with the factor of age and spinal issues, they can't do anything they liked

Their old minds missed rather dearly the times when they could bob up and down together on a horse, or bake a cake for their anniversary, or even something as simple as gardening together.

That was impossible to do now, and they felt the love that they shared fade away, like the high tide and euphoric excitements it brings about- that is, until it recedes back into the wide sea.

True to their words, they never broke the sacred vows they had uttered on their wedding day, but, really, what's the point of being married when there's nothing to do?

The little family of four they have woven has ended, for their doves have flown away from their parents' love, away into the world.

The moments they had shared remain forever etched in the couple's minds, but they can't repeat it, and they both feel useless to the world in their old age.

The couple had also built a bookshop-cafe. When they were younger, they both adored the smell, taste, and quite literally everything about coffee. Being literary bookworms who shared the similar tastes about books and poets, they started a bookshop where they sold coffee, too.

Charlotte herself has published twelve books; all best-sellers. These twelve books include two children's books, three non-fictional books, one book which tells the 'autobiography' of her love life with Charles, and a whopping six-book fantasy series.

Charles has published some books too, but lesser was the amount compared to Charlotte's. Charles wrote a book about how his life changed in the course of a year, which was about the year when he met and got married with Charlotte.

Charles also wrote a book that was written solely for the purpose of his own little children, Belle and Henry. The title itself was, in fact, "Belle and Henry".

After, he also published a poetry book, which, hit number one in the book charts. He was surprised, for those poems were mainly love letters for his beloved wife.

These things build up a sacred paradise for the couple, a subtle refuge, a place where they can construct, destroy and accomplish dreams, a place where they can show their passionate love for each other to the world.

But sadly, as time went by and the couple aged, this paradise fell apart, leaving nothing but remains of an infamous duo, working their way amazingly through the world.

It was simply a paradise lost.