EIELSON AIR FORCE BASE, Alaska — The Aurora Borealis, or Northern Lights, shines above Bear Lake here Jan. 18. The lights are the result of solar particles colliding with gases in Earth’s atmosphere. Early Eskimos and Indians believed different legends about the Northern Lights, such as they were the souls of animals dancing in the sky or the souls of fallen enemies trying to rise again. (U.S. Air Force photo by Senior Airman Joshua Strang)
How I hope that our entire following believes in love stories, believes in love, it’s power to inspire and the palliative effects upon our souls. Parisianne Modert is a finalist in this competition, and here is her fairy tale:
Linnaea Borealis in Bloom
The doorbell rang. “Fröken Ööör sue la Johansson?”
Ursula’s girl friends ran to her side to see the envelope addressed in gold leaf lettering. The careful opening revealed fine linen, Swedish stationery. Ursula read out loud:
“Please forgive me, sweet one, for any assumption or intrusion by me of you. I have been left breathless from your beauty asking only to make your acquaintance at the upcoming Harvard dance.
As apology and compensation, I offer you a makeover enchantment from Gamla Sverige Klädbutik. The proprietor will dress you as a princess on the dance’s date at my grateful expense.
All I ask in return is one special dance. Please say yes to both the gifts and dance with me. I promise that I am a gentleman of considerate, old world manners.
I would fly to the stars if only I had wings, praying to win your heart’s approval.”
“Relax, I’m calling. Hello, I’m Ursula Johansson…”
“I’ve been expecting your call, let’s say 2ish?”
“Thank you. I accept.”
“You’re doing this?”
“And all of you are coming with me!”
Like female Nordic wolves, the pack arrived to witness the staff do Ursula’s hair, makeup, nails and elegant matching accessories for the stunned coquettish princess. The Swedish lace dress was tastefully cut low in back. Linnaea borealis, light purplish, twin flower sprigs, flown in from Stockholm were placed in her hair.
“Who is my admirer?”
“I am sworn to secrecy, but he is handsome as you are radiantly beautiful.”
“Thank you, but do the heels make me too tall?”
“No, you are a beguiling princess. Go find your enamored prince.”
“Välsigna dig. Farväl.”
Ursula’s icy, stoic nature reappeared as defense once arriving at Harvard refusing nameless and mispronounced requests.
From a gentle tap on her bare shoulder she turned to her right feeling the small purplish flowers in her hair on the left bounce lightly. Ursula gazed downward expecting the man to be shorter, finding instead a tie matching her flowers.
Eyes gazing upward, the stranger took her left hand. With mouth gaping, manners forgotten, Ursula saw a Viking god, so handsome that Ursula froze wide-eyed. His gentle kiss upon her lifted hand awoke her feeling naked and exposed.
The Norse love goddess, Freyja, melted Ursula’s iceberg, pedestal heart. Without a word, Ursula lifted her left hand to his upper arm as his right hand slid to her back. Her once secret admirer led her onto the dance floor. The room watched the ice princess glow like the northern lights.
“Kan jag få nöjet att denna dans, Ursula?”
‘Som stjarnan uppa himmelen sa kiar’ softly played on as eternity bowed then curtseyed.
The stars in the heavens song of a more graceful century enraptured the newly met couple with destinies entwining.
“I’m Torbjorn, Ursula.”
“No one else is dancing.”
“I only see you. Let them be forever envious.”
“I loved the Linnaea as a little girl. How did you know?”
“They are pale compared to your beauty.”
“Torbjorn, you are so handsome and kind. Am I dreaming.”
“If we both are, then let’s never wake up. I’m sure I’m in love with you.”
Ursula’s heart fluttered out of control. “I know I love you too Torbjorn.”
Time stopped, when their lips met. His hand gently caressed the small of her back. Everything became clear like a shuttle launching Thor to strike the heavens. Thunder bear held his Ursula as gentle as a midnight snowflake.
Ursula dressed delicately placing newly couriered Linnaea in her hair.
At eight, Torbjorn arrived. Ursula surrendered to his kiss as a blushing virgin ready to make love.
Seated at a private, balcony table overlooking the Charles, the lovers found colorful pots of flowers and gas lamps flickering romantic impressions.
“Darling, Ursula, I received a family heirloom today. Your left hand please. My great grandfather proposed to my great grandmother with this ring. Their love grew richer with time. I am on bended knee offering my heart to you with love and passion. Marry me Ursula. Become my wife.”
“Torbjorn, with all my heart, I say yes.”
“My parents will love you.”
“O, God…my parents! How will I explain you to each other? No! I’m not giving you up.”
“Please never do!”
“We need to talk before you meet, but not here. What’s our last name?”
“Love it, but…”
“Dear, listen to my whispered confession. Ursula, I know you are an alien from another world. Marry me, my love.”
Ursula Andres here making a conchious decision to seduce the editor-in-chief. He declines, but does invite her to shellebrate his birthday party party on June 22nd at the hacienda of Victor Villasenor. http://www.awordwithyoupress.com/2013/06/05/third-annual-editor-in-chief-moi-surprise-birthday-party-and-wet-t-shirt-contest/
(Doesn’t Ursula mean “bare”?)