He was a silent wanderer. He never settled down in a town for long before he had to move on. Dressed in rags, he made a poor first impression and townspeople were leery of his diffident nature.
He walked along the craggy roadway which carried travelers from Amethyst city to the Magnolia Gardens. It was just another day for him, another road, another place to rest his head before he grew restless, or until the locals grew wary of him.
So he walked, his head down, following the steps of his poorly cobbled shoes that kicked up small plumes of dust as he traveled.
Darkness slowly crept around him and he feared he wouldn't make the city before dark. He hurried his step, not sure of the exact distance that he still had to travel.
His thoughts were on where he might find a meal, as payment for an hour or two of work. He never accepted handouts without repaying.
As he hurried along the gloomy roadway, he suddenly stumbled, and fell, skinning his knee. He winced for a moment, rubbing his knee, cursing the conditions of the highway. He looked back, to where he stumbled, for the cause of his upset, and he noticed a stone.
He rose gingerly from his sitting position, mumbling epithets at the slight pain in his knee.
"Is that what caused me to fall? Just a drab, unassuming rock? he asked rhetorically. He picked it up and tossed it back and forth between his two hands. He looked for an object to toss it at, to strike, but then thought otherwise. The stone seemed interesting, he wasn't sure why, but he decided he'd keep it. "You just never know when a stone might come in handy" he reasoned.
He put the stone in the satchel he carried on his side and continued on his way.
His thoughts wandered through his past, remembering loved ones, that had all gone, those who had died or who had left him, but as he thought such melancholy memories, his mind averted back to the stone, it seemed something within the stone beckoned him, which of course was preposterous. There were no magical stones, any fool knew that!
As he walked with such motley thoughts, he suddenly heard in the distance a soft, but plaintive cry. He looked around but saw no one. Just trees and an opening to what seemed like a cave. He listened and again he heard the cry, which seemed to emanate from the cave.
He walked in the direction of the voice, concerned but unafraid, for the words sounded gentle, though sad.
Though it had become dark, he could still see a few feet within the cave, and as he peered closely, he saw, to his surprise, a woman, huddled within the cave, crying.
His first instinct was to walk away, after all, it was no business of his if a woman wanted to hide in a cave and cry her eyes out. For all he knew she deserved to be in that cave. Keep your nose out of others' affairs, that was his motto.
But near that uncaring exterior beat a heart like everyone else, and it went out to the woman, and so he stayed, and then spoke with some trepidation to the woman,
"Madam, are you ok? Do you need some assistance?"
The woman, looked up, alarmed, then wiped her tears and looked stoically at the man.
"Can you talk? Come out of the cave, it's no place for a woman, it's no place for anyone. Come out and we'll talk."
She seemed to hesitate, but then rose to her feet, her back lowered against the ceiling of the cave. He put his hand out, to help her from the cave, and she stood before him, a beautiful, dark haired, woman.
He looked at her closely, and even in the dark, he could see that she had green eyes, which she then averted from his gaze.
He asked her a few questions, but she would not or could not answer. She just looked away, avoiding his scrutiny. Frustrated, he tried to think of a way to get through to her, or at least, entertain her. He thought of the stone. It seemed unusual to him, maybe she'll think the same. He took it out of his satchel and presented it before her.
At seeing the stone, her eyes grew wide, then tears began to form, and she spoke a single word, "No" when he offered it to her.
But he was persistent, and pushed the stone toward her, hoping she might be amused. She reluctantly took it, and held it disinterested. He frowned, "Well, that didn't work" he said, and put his hand out to take the stone. She passed it to him and for a brief moment both hands touched the stone simultaneously, and suddenly the stone, seemed to light up and then, open as if the two sides were attached to a hinge.
It was not a simple stone, but a geode, and inside the most brilliant colors shined, as if lit from within. He took his hand away in shock and the geode, faded, colorless. Naturally curious he put his hand back on the geode and it again lit up. She then took her hand away and the geode again, became black, and when she put it back, it lit up, and continued to be lit as long as they both touched it at the same time.
He looked at her, and she, no longer shy, looked at him. They both smiled, not only at the spectacle of the geode, but for what they both knew that it portended.
Loyal readers of romances know the ending of this tale. I make no pretense that this story ends unpredictably. They fell in love, they were married and they lived happily ever-after. And all of you Realists, familiar with my usual cynical style, if you look into your hearts, would you really want the ending to be any different?
Adding your comment:
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(He says hypocritically knowing that his story is in that same vein.) 
made me yearn to crack it open! Your story is beautiful and filled with metaphoric forecasting and final happiness, which is very pleasing to the reader. 
We hardly ever get a happy ending, ever, in real life where all is bitter sweet. 
