Draft 1
She read the letter again, and closed her eyes. She took a moment to open her eyes again. That one moment, it seemed everything had paused. Its so weird how time keeps changing its speed to pass. The length of a second depends on how far your current state of mind is from the world around you. Pain surfaced on her face in that one moment. She opened her eyes again to look at that letter again, after looking at it for few minutes she neatly folded it and kept it safely in a book.
It was raining outside, she looked at the rains, and tried to smile, she told herself how rains always bring smile on her face, and next moment there was a smile on her face. If she had known how cruel the rain and wind is going to be tonight, she would not have smiled.
She was back to the real world. She got up and went to check her mails on her laptop, there were two mails from the office, she replied to both of them, and got busy surfing the web.
Moonlight was coming from the single window in that room, and she could see him sleeping in the bed, most of the nights she would come and stand at the door, just to see him sleeping soundly, moonlight was bouncing back from his body, and she could not help but to keep looking, and there was a smile of satisfaction on her face.
She jerked herself and pulled herself out of her own thoughts. It was usual for her to get lost in her own thoughts, in the mysterious corridors of the past, and then to jerk herself to get out of them. She looked back at the laptop and tried to get busy again. She called her friends and talked to them for hours, she smiled, she laughed, she made jokes.
When she hung up, the void, the emptiness was back, she did not know what to do next. Sometimes in the late evenings, when she would not be expecting anybody and the doorbell would ring, her heart would jump. Human memory, its scalding recall terrorized her: the darnedest little flashbacks, hum of a song he used to like, half finished plate of pasta could dismantle her reminding her of him. But it never used to be him. He would never be at the door.
Some nights she would watch the patterns the rain leaves on the cobblestone path, under her bedroom window. She would try to make something out of those patterns, clouds, animals, or dragons. Part of her believed that one day while walking on his road, wherever he might be, he too will see the same motif on the stone, and briefly they will stand in a togetherness of their own construction. Unfettered by time and distance and fact. How odd are the ways heart finds its intimacy.
On other nights she would wake up from her sleep, drenched in her own sweat, it would get difficult to breathe, and her right shoulder would be hurting a lot, she would get up at once from the bed and will go and stand in the doorway of his room, and will look on that bed, and then the realization will strike again, he is not here, he is gone, with a letter in her books, and she would start acknowledging the pain in her shoulder.
For next few days on the sundown she would fathom the full understanding of longing, how the shoulders can start hurting for the sake of hugging somebody, how one's heart might feel desolate enough to want to burst open like a volcano that can no longer sustain the magma of its own isolation. Looking at trees, she would want to split open their trunks and haul the boy who left him a letter out of them.
She got up from her sleep, and went to her balcony to look at the rain outside, she opened the book and took out neatly folded letter in her hands.
We can probably say that the rain, the winds were probably two naive to understand her feelings for what they did next, they did not want yet another soul to just yearn for somebody whenever they would visit them.
It was then, that wind took the letter out of her hand which she had saved all these years, and took it away from her. Her mouth opened, she gasped, her hand desperately came forward to grasp for the letter but it was gone. She screamed in her mind but she could not move. Its so weird how time keeps changing its speed to pass. The length of a second depends on how far your current state of mind is from the world around you, and she was forever frozen in that moment now.
She read the letter again, and closed her eyes. She took a moment to open her eyes again. That one moment, it seemed everything had paused. Its so weird how time keeps changing its speed to pass. The length of a second depends on how far your current state of mind is from the world around you. Pain surfaced on her face in that one moment. She opened her eyes again to look at that letter again, after looking at it for few minutes she neatly folded it and kept it safely in a book.
It was raining outside, she looked at the rains, and tried to smile, she told herself how rains always bring smile on her face, and next moment there was a smile on her face. If she had known how cruel the rain and wind is going to be tonight, she would not have smiled.
She was back to the real world. She got up and went to check her mails on her laptop, there were two mails from the office, she replied to both of them, and got busy surfing the web.
Moonlight was coming from the single window in that room, and she could see him sleeping in the bed, most of the nights she would come and stand at the door, just to see him sleeping soundly, moonlight was bouncing back from his body, and she could not help but to keep looking, and there was a smile of satisfaction on her face.
She jerked herself and pulled herself out of her own thoughts. It was usual for her to get lost in her own thoughts, in the mysterious corridors of the past, and then to jerk herself to get out of them. She looked back at the laptop and tried to get busy again. She called her friends and talked to them for hours, she smiled, she laughed, she made jokes.
When she hung up, the void, the emptiness was back, she did not know what to do next. Sometimes in the late evenings, when she would not be expecting anybody and the doorbell would ring, her heart would jump. Human memory, its scalding recall terrorized her: the darnedest little flashbacks, hum of a song he used to like, half finished plate of pasta could dismantle her reminding her of him. But it never used to be him. He would never be at the door.
Some nights she would watch the patterns the rain leaves on the cobblestone path, under her bedroom window. She would try to make something out of those patterns, clouds, animals, or dragons. Part of her believed that one day while walking on his road, wherever he might be, he too will see the same motif on the stone, and briefly they will stand in a togetherness of their own construction. Unfettered by time and distance and fact. How odd are the ways heart finds its intimacy.
On other nights she would wake up from her sleep, drenched in her own sweat, it would get difficult to breathe, and her right shoulder would be hurting a lot, she would get up at once from the bed and will go and stand in the doorway of his room, and will look on that bed, and then the realization will strike again, he is not here, he is gone, with a letter in her books, and she would start acknowledging the pain in her shoulder.
For next few days on the sundown she would fathom the full understanding of longing, how the shoulders can start hurting for the sake of hugging somebody, how one's heart might feel desolate enough to want to burst open like a volcano that can no longer sustain the magma of its own isolation. Looking at trees, she would want to split open their trunks and haul the boy who left him a letter out of them.
She got up from her sleep, and went to her balcony to look at the rain outside, she opened the book and took out neatly folded letter in her hands.
We can probably say that the rain, the winds were probably two naive to understand her feelings for what they did next, they did not want yet another soul to just yearn for somebody whenever they would visit them.
It was then, that wind took the letter out of her hand which she had saved all these years, and took it away from her. Her mouth opened, she gasped, her hand desperately came forward to grasp for the letter but it was gone. She screamed in her mind but she could not move. Its so weird how time keeps changing its speed to pass. The length of a second depends on how far your current state of mind is from the world around you, and she was forever frozen in that moment now.
3 comments:
hey..its really nice..good piece of work :)
Awesome! Reminded me of one of the story i wrote.. but mine is too filmishly dramatic! i like yours better :D
Check my story here
love rains n now ur blog whr meanings r hidden n deep...:)
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