In my writing class, we were told to write a story of a genre we normally wouldn't. Here's mine. It's not a complete story (and it never will be), but I think it's my best work yet.

--------

Kelsie closed her eyes and tossed back her hair. It was a beautiful day, and she was enjoying it immensely. This part of Windsor Hill was beautiful in the summertime. The grass was soft, the sun was warm, and the gentle trickling of the nearby Windsor Falls could be heard in the distance.

Kelsie was waiting for her lover, Roderick. They had to meet up here, on Windsor Hill, because their love was forbidden. Kelsie’s father was the town priest. He had once caught Roderick kissing Kelsie behind the old milk-shed, and had threatened to kill him if he ever came near her again. Alas, this only made the embers of their passion stronger.

Kelsie was still basking in the sensual glow of the sun when she heard rugged footsteps approaching. She turned and saw Roderick, barrel-chested and shirtless. He was carrying posies, as well as a gunnysack.

“My love!” she cried. Roderick approached and kissed her, handing her the posies as they did.

“I picked these for you, my sweet,” he said. “They are found only on the tallest mountain, and I traversed its rocky paths for you.”

“Oh Roderick! How ever did you make it?”

“I thought of you, my love, and how you would surely enjoy their scent…..as I enjoy yours.”

Kelsie swooned a little, and pulled him in for a second kiss. She ran her fingers through his lustrous blond hair.

The kiss continued and began to take on a life of its own. It grew into a powerful entity, sustained only by the lust of its creators. God help you! it seemed to cry. God help you if you think you can diminish my passion!

As Kelsie explored Roderick’s mouth with her tongue, she heard a twig snap. She pulled her mouth away from his, but he continued to kiss her neck.

“My dear,” she uttered in a hushed, frightened tone. “I think someone’s followed you!”

Roderick snapped his head in the forest’s direction. There was worry in his eyes.

“It must be your father.” Roderick picked up his gunnysack and pulled his musket from it. Kelsie’s eyes widened at the sight of it.

“Oh, Roderick, you mustn’t,” she pleaded. “You simply mustn’t.”

“And let our love be taken away? Never!”

He leaned forth and kissed her, rubbing the cool steel shaft of the musket on her neck.

“Shoot him if you must,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “But if you do shoot, shoot to kill.”

Roderick copped a quick feel. “I always do,” he said.

And with that, he marched off into the forest.