[FONT=Optima]I have always been somewhat apprehensive about commiting my thoughts to page. Perhaps due to the fear sounding pompous or dying of shame when I re-read my writings in the days to come. I shall try my very best so save this book from the fire in those furture days.

I do not fully understand what brought her to begin wandering through my mind again. Her foot steps, I believed had long vacated the dimensions of my thought. But last night, the ever sweet Mayabelle floated through my dreams once again. I do often still wonder what became of my first love.

It had started with a kiss. Which had been my very first.
Mayabelle was as beautiful as moon-lit water; her twinkle had left me completely dazzled. She always had that aroma of sunshine, as though her skin had been sweetly baked in the Sunrifters rays as she worked the feilds of her father.

My relationship with Mayabelle had begun during my adolescence. I had stormed out of the halls of my father in one of my sulks, after one of our many heated debates (I forget which this one had regarded). I had rushed into the woodland that had been situated to the east of the halls... Probably to try to sneak from my father's line of sight, and make it soundly to the Inn... This is where we were to first meet.
I discovered her gently weeping. If I am honest, I would probably not had stopped if she were not as beautiful as she were. So beautiful that even when anguish had adorned her face, she still allured me. I would probably not have been quite so sympatheic, if her mouth was not so exquistily heart-shaped and her skin so very soft. I would have probably found it difficult to empathise, if her lashes were not so long and golden and her frame not so dainty.
But for all of my shallowness and the arrogance of my youth. And even armed with my suprior experience upon the matter in hand, I trembled as greatly as she thoughout that first embrace.
I was truely blessed and I was grateful. Mayabelle deemed me worthly of her affections. I was welcomed into her sweet embraces and feathered by her kisses. We met most evenings in the forest, and would get into such wonderful trouble for returning home so late.
The heady-dazidness of first love hit me hard, and left me reeling. It was more intoxicating than any liquor. It was wholly consuming and I became almost obsessive.

Perhaps the change in me was a noticable one. As one evening I was followed by one of my father's men. Who caught Mayabelle and I together.
This was the beginning of my declining relationship with my father. He was furious.
He spat at me. Telling me of how much of a selfish brat I had always been. That I should learn to think before I act. That I had considered no one but myself and my own self-indulgences. I fought him back. I wept like the child I was. He grabbed me roughly by the collar, raised his right hand and delivered me three ringing blows to the face, counting as he did so; "That is for your impertinence!" He explained after the first. "That is for being the blind, egotistic fool that you were born!" he said after the second, before raising his hand a third time to distribute the third and most stinging blow "And that is for soiling the good name that I gave you!". The fist of my father collided heavily with my jaw, causing my teeth to sink into the inner softness of my mouth and the metalic taste of my own blood to fill my senses. My father often barked, but I had never known him to bite. The fact that he had struck out at me, secretly terrified me. But I would not allow it to show.
Our heated words continued long into the night.
It came to light that Mayabelle had always been promised to another. She had never told me. It apparently was arranged, and had been so for many years. My own selfish desires had left her ruined and shamed. The boy in question may not want Mayabelle any longer.
In my childish mind I reasoned that I shall be bonded to her. I loved her that much. My father scorned my idea, and openly laughed. He would not have his son wedded to a peasant.
A storm rained over the Halls for many weeks. My fathers anger. My brothers awe... And my mothers gentle presence, slowly making the clouds part over-head.

I was always mother's favourite. I had been the only child that she had refused to allow my father to name.
My mother was a raven-haired angel. She was the matriarch of the family, and could even silence the stormy rages of my father with one raise of her finely arched eyebrow. The storm had quickly been subdued when my mother had finally decided to descend. A few curt words into my father's ear, and it were forgotten.

My mother drifted into my room, late one evening. She sat upon the foot of my bed for quite sometime, staring silently out of the window into the nights sky. She gently pushed the hair from my face and simply wispered 'Love. It is like the measels. We all must go through it'. With that, she drifted away as softly as she had came.

Mayabelle left and I never once seen her again. I waited hopefully in the forest for many months to come. But she never returned.[/FONT]