Writer’s Note: Recently, I have been working on this new theme called ‘Oracle Tales.’ For the next few days, I will be posting a new story everyday along with an artwork whose sole purpose will be to symbolize a life lesson learnt by me. I am trying out something new here, so all kinds of feedback, comments are welcome. If you do like the post, do like and share and let me know how you feel about it. I also have a strict plagiarism and censorship policy, so if you wish to reuse the artwork do let me know.
ORACLE SPEAKS: 1 : “Sometimes chaos speaks louder than words, but that doesn’t mean that you should forget to hear the music.”
Time was so vital to their existence.
Time . . . time, was exactly what they didn’t have.
She walked in like a gust of wind. He stared at the hollow space next to the old armoire. Her white sweater dress swept the floor as she made her way to the bed. He now seemed to rest his head against the bed. The cold leather seemed to soothe his headache, as he felt an icy flutter fleet across his head. It was almost like someone was applying balm. She pressed on his head, remembering how they had this one conversation about water and alcohol. She had then, animatedly pointed out towards alcohol and stated how it was poison and the other one was elixir. He always disagreed by interchanging elixir with poison; loving her amused smirk. It always made his day. They were like magic together; cold, mysterious and completely crude. They blended in like how the oil of the lamp blends in with the soft, fragile wisp of cotton. Once upon a time, they set fire to each other’s souls. But, today, she laid her hand on his temple, trying to soak his pain but all she could feel was her own misery. She watched him, almost as if she was trying to watch herself through his shut eyes.
She wanted to lean down and kiss his forehead. She had read somewhere that forehead kisses connote that you mean the world to that person. Regardless of everything, she had gone through to forget him, their love was hard. She wished she could just wrap her arms around the nape of his neck, caress him gently and then just imprint a mark of her on him. But, she was scared. She always will be. So, instead, she rested beside him, watching him and his light breathing. She wished he would open his eyes, but then again she was terrified if he would be able to read her whole truth after all these years too. She lay there like a mist of memory, until the door burst open. His wife was here. She walked in, and sat by the end of the bed. He opened his eyes drowsily and summoned her to come to him. While his wife smiled and moved closer to him, her action of laying her head on his chest, burned ambers in her heart. She wished to walk away quietly, yet it was difficult to not pry and hear what they spoke about. The wife then said, “Did you miss me?”
“I started feeling better the moment you walked in. Why did you not come to me as soon as you entered?”
She stiffened at what he said. The bed was growing small for the three of them. She stood up, and walked towards the same armoire she had entered through. She looked back letting her heart be torn once again after numerous heart slaying moments. She saw them, exactly how she wished she would see herself with him; serene, volatile and vulnerable. She caught his eyeball, and tried to wonder if he was still the same human who was once the smile of her spring. And, as he stared into blankness and hollow-hood, she wished that she was more than a soul.
More than a spirit.
More than energy.
Once upon a time ago, his love had overtaken her anxiety. Even though it always left her a myriad of emptiness, she felt complete in that recklessness. The armoire door opened and banged due to the cold wind. She watched as the door past right through her. She wished she could’ve stayed longer. She wished she would’ve kissed him. But, as she watched him get up to light the fire, she knew that she would never be enough for him. She passed away like a frail coil of somber ashes, letting her existence be forgotten on the way up to the eternal abode of hope and solitude. Earlier, she had looked back infinitely, but maybe today was actually the day to let go. And, as she felt warmth and happiness soak her, almost lifting her into plain bliss and zest; she swore she heard some human voice from another lifetime calling out,
“Roma, I think I just saw a reflection of her in the fire.”
“Whose?” William continued to stare at the fire. His trance was repeatedly being interrupted by Roma’s pity-patty details of the funeral party. Roma couldn’t seem to see what William had lost.
“What are you looking for, Wil?”
“A lost greatness.” He whispered solemnly. He traced her tenderness in the flames, her ferocity in the coals, and watched as the fierce fire danced, almost glad to have finally re-united with their goddess. Emma was his one true love and she was lost now. He glanced towards Roma, and walked towards the mirror.
“Roma . . . Emma, was your friend too. Why don’t you feel like you’ve lost a part of you?”
And, all she could say was, “Because the woman who lay in the white coffin was not the person I was in love with. Don’t cry yourself to sleep because you regret not saying in out loud. Maybe she already knew.” William was petrified at Roma’s audacity. He looked into the face he had claimed to love all his life and instead he saw reckoning and falsity. The face was questioning him for the years of neglect and disregard. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, as he wondered how did he ever get entangled in this emotional willow of despair and nothingness.
“So you knew?” He croaked.
“Always.” Roma watched him and his nakedness. His exposed self flinched and stared at her flamboyantly.
“Why didn’t you ever say something?” His defiance echoed through the stormy night, and but Roma knew that her next words would end the whole charade.
“You lost faith in Emma. Because you knew she was here tonight when the curtains lost their flair and the floor seemed colder. Because you know how vulnerable I get around cold energies. Because you knew how much it hurt her. Because you have lied to me and her and everyone else for all this time. Because you knew how much you suffer and still chose to remain silent for a single promise. . .” Roma could see a certain dawn in William’s astray eyes. She looked away and into the mirror she observed her scared husband. She looked in closer and instead of his uncountable fear, she realized instead that she was staring at the victim of his fear and her falsehood.
“But most of all, because you knew she was leaving and you did not have the courage to whisper ‘I love you’ for the first and last time.”
She walked away in chilly disposure letting the room feel a lost quite. William stood as a symbol for an unreeled desire and for the infinite time, he wished love was a finite thing he could conquer. But, not all wishes become happenings; he thought as he bowed down his head in prayer and tried to fall into a restless slumber.
x – – – – – x – – – – – x – – – – – x – – – – – x
The oracle enjoyed the deceitful end, as he placed William away. William an image of a broken man joined the other wooden carved sculptures. His amusement soared as he packed his finished models and walked away. The suitcase lay shut to the whispering cryptic words of stealth, secrecy and intrigue, letting the three sculpted miseries of human condition named William, Emma and Roma lie like puppets of a lost tale.
Lost, in the darkness of the forgotten night . . .