Post by dreamy on Oct 31, 2005 8:33:49 GMT 10
The Last Kiss
Late one night, a young man was driving home along a dark country road. It was a Saturday night and it was raining. As he rounded a long curve, his headlights lit up a young woman standing at the side of the road. She was wearing a white dress and was all wet from the rain. He thought he knew what had happened: The girl had quarreled with her date and had chosen to walk home rather than stay with the guy. The young man skidded to a stop before the young woman could even raised her hand to thumb a ride.
He leaned over and opened the door for her to get in.
She slid into the seat and shut the door. With a smile she said, "Would you take me home? I just live a mile down the road."
That was when he noticed how pretty she was. He almost couldn't think of anything to say, she was so pretty. He said, "Sure."
He took off his letter jacket and offered it to her. She leaned forward and draped it around her shoulders. It was too crowded in the front seat for her to put her arms into the sleeves.
The boy dropped the car into gear, and he still hadn't thought of anything to say when they passes the church and the graveyard and came to a two story house.
"This is my house," she said.
They stopped, and he got out and walked her to the door. They stood looking at each other for a moment and before he could think of a way to ask her for a kiss, she leaned over and kissed him. He was so surprised that she had opened the screen door, opened the front door, and gone inside the house before he could speak. He realized that she was still wearing his letter jacket and for a moment he thought about knocking on the door. But the house was dark, her parents were probably asleep, and she might get into trouble for getting in so late if he woke them.
Besides, the jacket gave him the perfect excuse to come see her again.
Sunday morning, about time for church, he came back to the house and knocked on the door. A tired, sad-looking woman answered. He asked if he could talk to the ladies daughter.
"My daughter is dead," said the woman. "She died one year ago last night in a car wreck one mile down the road or so at the long curve."
"That's not possible!" said the man. "I gave her a ride home last night!"
"If you don't believe me," said the woman, "go look for yourself. She's buried in the graveyard there in the third row."
The young man walked into the cemetery. In the third row of headstones, he found what he was looking for.
A pink marble headstone was inscribed with the name Laurie, and over the rounded corners of the stone was his letter jacket.
Late one night, a young man was driving home along a dark country road. It was a Saturday night and it was raining. As he rounded a long curve, his headlights lit up a young woman standing at the side of the road. She was wearing a white dress and was all wet from the rain. He thought he knew what had happened: The girl had quarreled with her date and had chosen to walk home rather than stay with the guy. The young man skidded to a stop before the young woman could even raised her hand to thumb a ride.
He leaned over and opened the door for her to get in.
She slid into the seat and shut the door. With a smile she said, "Would you take me home? I just live a mile down the road."
That was when he noticed how pretty she was. He almost couldn't think of anything to say, she was so pretty. He said, "Sure."
He took off his letter jacket and offered it to her. She leaned forward and draped it around her shoulders. It was too crowded in the front seat for her to put her arms into the sleeves.
The boy dropped the car into gear, and he still hadn't thought of anything to say when they passes the church and the graveyard and came to a two story house.
"This is my house," she said.
They stopped, and he got out and walked her to the door. They stood looking at each other for a moment and before he could think of a way to ask her for a kiss, she leaned over and kissed him. He was so surprised that she had opened the screen door, opened the front door, and gone inside the house before he could speak. He realized that she was still wearing his letter jacket and for a moment he thought about knocking on the door. But the house was dark, her parents were probably asleep, and she might get into trouble for getting in so late if he woke them.
Besides, the jacket gave him the perfect excuse to come see her again.
Sunday morning, about time for church, he came back to the house and knocked on the door. A tired, sad-looking woman answered. He asked if he could talk to the ladies daughter.
"My daughter is dead," said the woman. "She died one year ago last night in a car wreck one mile down the road or so at the long curve."
"That's not possible!" said the man. "I gave her a ride home last night!"
"If you don't believe me," said the woman, "go look for yourself. She's buried in the graveyard there in the third row."
The young man walked into the cemetery. In the third row of headstones, he found what he was looking for.
A pink marble headstone was inscribed with the name Laurie, and over the rounded corners of the stone was his letter jacket.