the windsor boy - prologue

Anastasia, with her elegant and wavy cream colored hair, flapping gently in the wind. Her dark brown eyes focused on the pages of the book she was reading, provocative men and women gracing the cover, her slender fingers gripping the edges just tightly enough that he figured she must be at the climax. She sat crisscrossed in her simple brown gown, not minding that mother was going to have a fit when she realized it would have sand and other molecules of stains on it, it was one of his sisters only dresses.

He sat in the sand, tracing his name over and over again, “D, A, M…” The sky was painted a bright blue, the white clouds speckled throughout, the ocean waves lolling softly. His midnight curls caught up in the same wind as his sisters, he had to keep pushing them out of his eyes, he was sure mother would want to cut his hair soon, it was getting too long by her standards. 

He looked up from his writing and saw her. 

The most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Dressed in a simple gray nightgown that fell just above her ankles, her feet firmly planted in the sand. Lace covering the ends of her sleeves and some delicate traces of it on her neckline, showcasing her collar bones, slightly peeking through.  She was facing the ocean, so still as if she moved or looked away that it would disappear. The wind that was violating him and his sister passed through her dark hair, the slight curls catching and framing her face. 

He watched her. 

A feeling in his chest, a small but painful ecstasy started to sprout as if flowers in the spring. He felt pulled to her and called out “Hello?” his voice traveling on the wind, spirling and floating, in hopes it would reach its destination. The woman didn’t move an inch. The ache in his chest was starting to increase, he tried again, “hello” louder this time.

His sister looks at him, eyebrows squinted down, confused. 

“Damon, who are you saying hello to?”

“The lady” he responded, mirroring her own expression.

“The lady?...” his sister paused and then chuckled, soft & clear. 

“If you wanted to play you could have just asked, didn’t have to lie to me”

He looks at her, and glanced back to where the woman was standing. 

“You can’t see her” he whispered the revelation softly to himself.

At that moment the woman turns and looks at him. 

Fierce gray eyes clouded by ages of memories, so painful and beautiful he can’t even begin to understand. Eyes wide in surprise her mouth opened just enough to take a small inhale that Damon is sure he can feel, sucking the air out of his lungs and into hers. 

He held her gaze afraid if he blinked or looked away she would be gone. 

She picks up a hand from the side of her body and slightly waves to which he waves back.

She cocked her head slightly to the left, still staring at him, the ache in his chest still burning white hot, he let out a small gasp as it started to overtake him, his green eyes starting to glass over.

She finally looks away, turning slowly as if she is a part of the wind or waves, simply adrift and following them. 

He starts to follow, something inside of him pushing him up off the sand where he was sitting and moving his legs, one foot in front of the other.

He needed to be near her.

He could hear Anastasia trying to talk to him, asking him if he was okay.

Damon swallows hard, turns to his sister, locking his eyes with her worried ones and nodded, his throat tight and unable to speak. 

He turns around and the woman is gone. Nowhere to be found, he looks around, taking deep breaths, he felt as if he had just been reborn onto earth taking his first breath for the first time again.  He can’t find her, can’t see her. The ache in his chest is gone. He stands, feeling the soft ocean spray kiss his cheek and the wind play with his hair. 

It was then when he realizes the woman had left no footprints behind.

***

author's note

This is the beginning of my debut novel - The Windsor Boy. I've been working slowly (very, very slowly) on this for years. The concept first coming to me when I was around 15 or 16. My brother found my handwritten rough draft and told me with eager eyes "you have to write this", so I am. My goal is to really crank some of it out this year, for me, for him, and for all the young aspiring writers out there. I'll be posting snippet's here and there as I fancy. This book is for all the girls who love a slow burn romance, men on their knee's for their women, the southern gothic aesthetic, with a dash of weird, murder, and religious fanaticism. A very Paige book.