She was leaving. Although he expected this to happen sooner rather than later the inescapable fact tore into him like a dagger through his chest. Yes. She was leaving. The truth sucked the life right out of his chest.
She confessed to him that she would be taking with her a treasure trove of beautiful memories too precious to be discarded. But what about the ones that she would leave behind – abandoned, orphaned and isolated? Yes. she was leaving. The truth sucked the life right out of his chest.
There would be no more drinking to the strains of Carlos Santana’s ‘Black Magic Woman’. There would be no more consternation inducing giggles within the confines of a movie hall. There would no longer be heard her peals of laughter competing with the clinking of glasses and tumbling of ice. Yes. she was leaving. The truth sucked the life right out of his chest.
The complaining sounds of the Puegeot as she shifted gears would be a cathartic memory. As would be the curses spontaneously escaping her lips as an over enthusiastic driver tries overtaking her on a congested stretch. Her peals of laughter will be the only treasures left for him to hold onto. The madness, the melee, the methods and the marvelous days would become a fading mist. Yes. she was leaving. The truth sucked the life right out of his chest.
But wait he will. Wait for her to return like a Dante awaiting his Beatrice. Wait for her he will like a barren land eager to taste the plunging deluge of a sweet monsoon. Wait for her he will like a an art waiting to be unearthed by a Van Goh. Wait for her he will like a rough stone crying out to be plucked out of a mine and made malleable into a precious diamond. Wait for her he will in spite of all his pain and tears. Wait for her her will overcoming his deepest and unexpressed fears. Wait for her he will until the end of time. Wait for his ‘ASH’ he will, even if The truth sucked the life right out of his chest.
Written as part of the December Writing Prompts organised by https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/category/writing-prompts/
(Copyright Sue Vincent)
The tranquility was, for Venky, an exquisitely created deception. The serenity was an elaborate façade that drew within itself many a master conspirator owing allegiance to Mother Nature. The still water itself was the main orchestrator of the intrigue, drawing attention of the unsuspecting. The radiant Sun then stepped in casting its resplendent rays of light upon the vast expanse of water making it glitter, shimmer and be bathed in a translucent orange. The majestic mountain was a solemn sentinel in Grey guarding and brooding over the vast expanse of liquid. The gnarled tree with its twisted branches being reflected in the water crowned off this fascinating trickery.
This place was Venky’ refuge. A shrine whose benedictions he sought both in times of triumph and tribulation. A leveler that warned him not only to not get carried away by success, but also to treat failure as a handmaiden of determination. The whole setting in fact reminded Venky of one of the most enduring and confounding physical experiments of all time – The Double Slit Experiment. This experiment It demonstrated, with unrivaled strangeness, that little particles of matter have something of a wave about them, and suggested that the very act of observing a particle has a dramatic effect on its behaviour. In the experiment, the very act of looking somehow seemed to make sure that the electrons traveled like well-behaved little tennis balls. It’s as if they knew they were being spied on and decided not to be caught in the act of performing weird quantum shenanigans. It was the same with Mother Nature. When you happened to intently concentrate on the river, everything seemed to be immaculately pristine. The unmoving mass of water was impeccably well behaved with nary an element of dissatisfaction. But beneath this mass of stillness was a roiling cauldron of activity, anger and altercation.
This conflict also reminded Venky of Ash. Ash, who at the current phase of his life was even more complicated than a mischievous electron. Charming yet stubborn, beautiful yet beguiling, accommodating yet frustrating, she was the one imponderable question for which he had no answer. Similar to the unruly electrons, his observation of her seemed to induce dramatic patterns of behavior. Patterns that both induced hope and exacted despair in equal measure. This continuum of alternating emotions had Venky in a bind. Days were spent rejoicing while nights were reserved for strange reflections. A dazzling smile followed by a spell of deathly silence, a warm hug succeeded by a strange bout of disappearance, cheery dispositions inexplicably and suddenly masked by a stony attitude all combined to contrive a heady concoction of extreme irony.
Venky was looking out for answers. He also knew that they could only be provided by the greatest conjurers of them all – Mother Nature. And it was to her bosom that he retreated in his quest for peace.
This is a response to the #writephoto Prompt – Beneath curated over at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo. Click on the link to read other stories inspired by the image.