[[[ Skip this one if you'd like, its a long story with lots of detail, and I can't tell if its good or not. The rest are shorter, I promise. This was my first one and I went a little overboard on the detail and the story line. If you do end up reading this, however, then please enjoy this story along with the others. ]]]

Sitting in the corner overlooking her bedroom, she knitted her half-finished red scarf. It was getting cold out, and the space where her roof had been was missing. It would not have surprised her if snowflakes began falling onto the ash. Her bedroom was not fit to bear the weight of snow, since what was once a beautiful bedroom was now half a burned ash pile and half a broken heart.

Elaina knitted her red scarf in the corner, like she had the day before, and the day before that. The scarf would soon be nesecarry if she wished to remain here. Downstairs, she could once again hear the laughter and the conversations spilling from wine cups of seven people. Her family.

It had been a few years since the wars on their country had began, and it was not uncommon for families as large as hers to house soldiers or orphans, both created by the conflict. Tonight, Elaina's house held three soldiers in return for food and supplies. An even trade must be made.

Her red scarf was long, it was almost completed, but it was not finished. It had to be longer to complete its designated task. How else would one enjoy the snow?

Footsteps began up the stairs. The only room on the second level left was the nursery, and the inhabitants had no use for that space anyways. You had to pass Elaina's room to get to the nursery, and no one wanted to pass by and happen to see her out of the corner of their eye.

No, the footsteps did not belong to Elaina's mama or papa, they were too light. Nor were they any of her sisters, for they were all terrified of the war and anything to do with it. Both of Elaina's brothers had been shipped away in the war, and she had not seen them in quite some time. No, these footsteps were different. A stranger. One of the soldiers.

A body appeared in the doorway of Elaine's bedroom, and she hid herself behind a piece of rubble, to stay out of sight. She watched the soldier as he carefully stepped in and crouched, peering down at the vast space where part of the room had collapsed after the fire.

It was a boy, Elaina realized, not a soldier. No, it was a soldier, he was wearing the proper uniform. He seemed only years older than her, although she couldn't tell from her corner. His blue clothing was a tad baggy at the hips, but otherwise fit quite snug on his frame. This is how she could tell that he wasn't soldier material, though he hunched over as if he were going to be beaten at any second.

Elaina carefully moved the piece of rubble off and away from her, and she stood up soundlessly. She cleared her throat and the soldier bolted upright. "Who's there?" He called. His voice sounded delicate, nothing at all like how he expected a soldier to sound. But now she could see his face properly. He was a handsome man, boy, more rather, and he looked as if he would be writing poetry, not fighting in a bloodbath.

"Its only I," Elaina responded. Should she engage conversation like this? Last time, it did not end as she hoped. "I am not cruel, but it is not polite to trespass in one's private quarters."

The soldier took a second look at the ash and remains a few feet below. "This is your bedroom?" He asked, shocked. Elaina nodded to the rubble. "Well, it was my bedroom, but now I suppose it does not pass as such."

The soldier laughed, and when he laughed, his shoulders shook, as if he meant it. Elaina knew her comment was not to be laughed at, but the thought that he had humor humored her. It was a funny idea, too, thinking that she was humored by his laughter at her failed humor.

"Yes, it does not look like a beautiful bedroom any longer, though I am sure it once was." The man in front of the bedroom's owner seemed unsure if he should leave or not. He cannot leave, thought Elaina, or I shall have to wait even longer.

"I don't believe you told me your name," she began, hoping to drag him closer. "It is custom that the stranger in one's household to introduce themselves first."

This was not custom, but she only wanted to know his name. The soldier seemed flustered and embarrassed, then did a little bow. "The name's Ellion, ma'am. Sorry for any intrusion on your private rooms."

Elaina almost laughed, but she kept her composure. If she laughed now, Ellion might leave. She did not want him to go, however, so she tried her hardest to stay solomn and introduce herself, upon Ellion's request.

"My name is Elaina. Ellion and Elaina, the perfect names for an on-screen couple in one of those oldern black and white shows, do you not think so?" If only she had a better connection, someway to get him to come closer, to inch to her and to connect their skin. Oh, how she longed for company.

"Why yes, I do think that." Ellion had stepped closer, but only slightly. Eliana laughed, this time it was part of the conversation rather than an unplanned interruption on her mind's behalf. "You mustn't be so formal, Ellion the Soldier, you are a guest of this household, are you not?"

Ellion was obviously becoming more relaxed. He was trusting and innocent, and Elaine's pale skin and gentle eyes showed no threat in the views of a mediocre warrior and a skilled poet.

"Yes, I am a guest of this household, but I will not intrude and corrupt a young lady not even in adulthood."

His way of thinking was bad. She needed to turn it around, and fast. "Of course I will allow you to enter my bedroom, and of course I will allow you to touch me, if you please."

Elaina knew that she was beautiful, and she knew that Ellion was falling for her. It was oh so obvious in his eyes. It was too easy, but she needed this so badly.

"Thank you, Eliana, for that kind offer. May I take up on it immediately?"

She smiled. "Of course. But first, I need to try to scare you off. Custom, you see. With a ghost story. Yes, one of my infamous ghost stories seems fit. Will you be scared off, Ellion the Soldier?"

Ellion the Soldier was afraid of nothing, so he sat down in front of her, maybe a foot or two, and prepared himself to listen to the ghost story that would make him shake. "Make me shiver in fear, Elaina. I would be honored."

She smiled once again, and began her ghost story.

"Once upon a time, there was a girl. She lived a happy life, but soon her country fell into a horrible war. Her name was Elaina, and while she was knitting her red scarf that she had intended to give her father later in the year, a bomb was dropped on her town, on her street, on her house, on her room, exploding both her and the walls, leaving ash, death, and me. That is the story about how I died."

Ellion was trying his best to look scared, but Elaina knew that he was perfect. But then again, so had the others.

At the same instant, they collided and their faces melted against each other's in pleasure, in lust, and in grieving. They both had grievances in their lives, and a stranger willing to participate was all too perfect.

Minutes past. They calmed down. They fell asleep. But Elaina stayed awake. She gazed upon her lover and whispered, "Join me."

With that, she took the unfinished red scarf and gently wrapped it around Ellion's pale and sensitive neck, one time, two times, three times. He did not wake up, and Elaina stood up.

She crouched, grabbing the ends of the scarf, one with the two knitting needles still attached. She pulled with every ounce of her being. Her lover was forced to a sit, then a stand, then on tip toes, then none at all.

He was fighting hard. She had hoped it would not come to this, but if it must, then she would do anything to have someone with her, always and forever.

She hung the ends of the scarf on a stray ceiling beam. She stood in front of her lover with anticipation. His body hung limp. She felt the rush of success. She had done it. Seven attempts and this time, this time she had been successful!

Ellion stood in front of her now. No, he did not stand, for he still hung. Where was he? He had to join her in eternal happiness!

Where was Eliana's lover? Perhaps she would have to try again, then?

She took down the body, unwrapped the scarf, and dumped her eighth failed attempt into the ash pit down below. She curled back up in her corner and continued knitting. She could always try again next time.

She was a patient girl. She could wait.

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1542 words