Her eyes were always moving about to places where she located the beauty that her mind mapped out all the time. Her eyes were wet from the overwhelming feeling that she would get, and if not then her mouth would be from all the explaining hoping to be understood. She could never stay still, not her mind, and absolutely not her body. She was moving round about all the time some way or the other. Her legs kept oscillating to and fro when she sat, when she stood up she would walk, her hands playing an uninvented instrument all the time, her ears filtering in the music of the rustling leaves and the chirping birds over the fighting crowd and her hair so dynamic in all its ways. And if all of these parts were not moving, you would think she is finally arid, but I could hear clearly her heart breathing in and out the ink and creating a rhythm that makes me believe that she was not arid then and neither will she ever be.
One frame, one girl, just different places.
A beautiful girl with locks curling their way like the flames surrounding her sat on fire embracing beautifully the immense heat it poured on her. Letting it seep into her skin, controlling it with her hands, conjuring the element and playing with the energy as if like one of her toys. Orange covering her soul.
Suddenly the frame transits into green grass field, with her sitting facing the other side. Her locks were dense black like the clouds above her and they flew like fluid and she oscillated with the wind and against it and repeated the same all the more. Playing with wind as it waved the grass around her, she closed her eyes and felt the rustle of the wind against the plants and the sway of her weightless body.
Then the clouds roar and in slow motion the drops touch her skin, while her eyes follow the drops as they collide onto her parts like a lover touching her for the first time. She was under water with the sheen of some light that guided her through the depths as she danced gracefully and swam in round motion.
Then she steps out drenched and sees a pit nearby, she just knows and so she submits herself onto the earth that called her name. She went in, and slept in the pit as the soil wrapped her coiled body and sang her to an eternal sleep.
She connected with the elements that she wished to become; fire, air,water and earth. And she became the fifth, my beautiful fifth, my complete everything.
I fall in love with this poet that I have never met. The stranger part is that I don’t wish to either because I am afraid if I did, all my visualisations will be shattered. I am in love with the words he chooses, with the thoughts he jots down and the beauty he reflects in his poems and I refuse to believe they are for somebody else, or maybe for no one at all.
People tell me all the time that what I am doing is just living in an illusion created for my bliss and that its transience will leave me shattered. But I am willing to take the chance and go through the consequence of me living in an induced dream because that transient time is so beautiful that it takes my fear away from reality. Crazy as it seems, and it is, but I love the way this crazy is sustaining me through all this time; dreaming and believing.
“Let’s go, don’t be so scared. Trust me please.” He said to his highschool sweetheart.
“What if someone finds out?” she said.
“No one will. I will bring you back safely. I promise.”
“I have never left hostel at this time of night. This is by far the most badass thing I have ever done.” She chuckled and went on climbing down the window of her dorm room. “Okay tell me, where will you take me?” she asked.
“You remember you said you liked to see scarecrows?”
“Well I thought this is the time.”
“WHAT? YOU HAVE BROUGHT ME OUT HERE AT THIS TIME, TO SEE SCARECROWS? IN THE DARK?” she yelled at him.
“Shh, relax. The fun is in the dark, believe me.”
“This is a mistake, I should have known.” She said angrily.
“Why don’t you just trust me and let lose for once? You will not regret it.”
“OKAY, fine. Lead.” She said in a frustrated tone.
He led her to the fields nearby and as they moved in the dark night illuminated by the beautiful gibbous moon and the twinkling lights that scattered around the hills.
“Wait wait, who is that, is someone there?”she asked him with fear.
“Haha, you would think it is someone because the people here are too into this trend.” He said.
“That’s a scarecrow, can you believe it?”
“NO WAY, it is so realistic.” She said going much closer to it and examining it fully.
“The people are so obsessed about making the most realistic scarecrows that they try to top the other by making them like this. They even make them wear their own clothes.” He explained.
“Woah. That’s insane, such dedication for this? How had I never heard it before?”
“I don’t know. See there are so many. Its almost like an exhibition here.”
“Yeah, there have made female scarecrows too? The people here are too obsessed.”
“Yeah. Well they make these scarecrows of the people who spend the most time on the fields, so that the crows recognize them as the same people.”
“Haha, that’s great. But how do you know all this?”
She just kept staring at one of them, they looked like people who had fallen into an eternal sleep with their eyes wide open and hanging on a cross like a god who will probably resurrect soon or maybe never for those eyes they had been mortal when they were permanently opened.
“Why do these faces of the scarecrows look so familiar though?” She asked.
“It couldn’t be. Its probably you thinking of a new story huh?”
“How do you know?”
“I know you more than you know yourself.” He said looking into her eyes with deep passion.
“Well yeah, imagine if these were actually people, I mean corpses of the people in this locality and this one psychopathic killer had done all this elaborate act to gain attention and spread some message. It would be quiet interesting. And then the next day headlines say that this is the most brutal act ever seen in the village and they connect the dots somehow and then the whole story unfolds.”
“I love the way you can think of the most deranged thing and I still find it all so beautiful on the way you think. That’s absolutely beautiful. Tell me more about this character of the killer in your imagination.”
“Well, the killer..okay let me think. Maybe the killer was an outcast, perhaps one of the untouchables and these people together had detested him and made it hard for him to live in the locality so he found time and did this so that he can satisfy himself with their blood first and then with the drama of them hanging as scarecrows. Its perfect for him.”
“But why scarecrows?”
“Maybe to put on a show. Or perhaps the killer had developed his psychopathic behavior from a past experience when he had witnessed his mother burnt hanging on one of those crosses for touching something not to be touched by someone like her, being of the untouchable caste. And I can imagine him so young and witnessing that crying and screaming as they tied him up somewhere near, such brutality could make anyone a psychopath.”
“How can you imagine all that even though you are a high caste girl? How do you imagine the pain and say it like you have felt it?”
“Well I don’t know, maybe its because of you?” She said all this staring at a scarecrow as if visualizing it all more clearly, while he listened to her and kept looking at her, staring.
She had the power to storytell him out of reality, and he had the power to imagine all that and fall in love with her mind, every single time. “Tell me why didn’t you bring me here tomorrow in daylight? Why now?”
“Because we never know, if tomorrow will come or not. Will we be here tomorrow, nah I had to show you this right away.”
She smiled at him. They stayed there for a while then left the place, he dropped her back at 3 am saying his goodbye. The morning came, she had not slept even after 3, she wrote the story down and by the time she was finished it was 6 already. Then she couldn’t open her eyes anymore so dropped down on the bed, submitting herself to sleep. The next morning, she found out that she was the first one to see the crime scene, the most brutal crime committed in the locality.
How beautiful would it be if I were a small, pretty doll, striking a permanent pose and expression. A doll who is in a continuous state of bliss; who never questions her existence or the repetition of her actions; a doll who does what she was made to do with absolute devotion.
Or maybe she had been questioning all the time, screaming for her voice to be heard, for her curiosity to be quenched but she was molded into that stiff permanent figurine who did the same redundant action that the maker wanted her to. Maybe she had just given up when the plastic was painted on her skin, slowly transforming her from her real to a façade. Perhaps she had never given up, that she had been trying but she had been shushed before they bent her down into what they wanted.
Maybe we are all just dolls, screaming right now while everyone around us keep telling us that it is supposed to be this way and we rebel until we give up or they make us give up.
They had loved each other for so long but from a distance, which the others told them to be safe. But the Sun, he just loved her so much, and the moon, she loved him back. They would roam around freely in space wandering about the celestial ones. The Sun always considered himself the largest of all and burnt with such light that illuminated his pride, but the moon never saw anything else but his love.
One day they decided finally to meet. The Sun as huge as ever, as proud as ever and red from the heat, hot from the ego. The moon was beautiful and smooth, it held life like no other celestial body had. She had the green locks with blue skin and had been waiting for this day all her life. And finally they met.
Their meeting was grand but unfortunately not what they had expected it to be. Their meeting was a catastrophic one, the Sun’s heat and light destroyed her like never before. She no longer held life, her water dried, her green burnt and her land barren like the others. She was burnt and damaged but she beautifully accepted the craters her lover had given her, she loved him nonetheless. But he couldn’t see how much he had hurt her and knew when he saw her losing her life he couldn’t live with what she had done with his love.
So he made sure he never came close to her ever again. So they never met, always on the other side of another life bearing one that separated the two. The sun never found this body as beautiful as his moon was but the moon always blamed the one in between the reason for their distance. But even though he never met her, he made sure he gave her the light she deserved. She was barren now but his light always made her look more beautiful than she was after their meeting. He blamed himself all the time for making her that way, but he never realized how lonely she felt after that. She thought he left her because she didn’t have her beauty any more and lived in that lie, but she always tried to reach out, to find him amidst the others, the brightest. But it all happened like that and they never met after that.
He is 21 now, all grown up with a physique of a young man, strong and stern. But the photo albums miss a part of his life, his childhood.
He pretended to grow in front of all these people as they praised how mature his hostel life had made him. He was a beautiful child, now a pretend adult.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“You’ll see.” He answered.
“Just tell me already, where?” she asked in an irritated tone.
“Why can’t you just keep quiet huh?” he replied irritated.
They were always like this; in fact theirs was the epitome of brother-sister war situation.
“Are you going to drop me off somewhere and run away?” she said sarcastically.
“Why would you think that? If I had to I would have done it way back.” He replied in the same tone.
“Okay get off now.”
“What is this place? Oh wait I remember, we used to come here for picnic right?”
“You remember? How old was I then? 10?”
“Yes and I was 7.”
They both were smiling, the rarest of all scenarios.
The sister looked at him and wondered why he had brought her to the place. It was beautiful, a place uphill with the best view. It was not so popular because of the difficulty of reaching there, but they loved the place too much not to go there nonetheless.
He went near the tree that remained the same unlike the innocence that was there in their childhood. He lied down near the tree and she followed. That’s what they would do when they were tired of playing, they would just lie down next to each other. Today they were tired of their lives and their hatred.
“Do you remember that time you said that clouds were farts of God?”
“Yes, and do u remember how you would jump right on me as I lied down to examine the insects?” and it went on for hours, the retrospection and the reminiscing the good times and laughing like there was nothing to lose. During this they both thought, “What had happened to us?”
“You had been sent away for hostel to get better education, I could never get your guidance or get to share my sorrow with you.” She thought to herself.
“I hated the fact that you were alone there where I could not share anything with you that I was going through, where I could not be there for you.” He thought sadly.
And after the heavenly time they spent talking, they both fell asleep. If one would look at them sleeping one would only see two children deep in their innocent land of dreams carelessly exploring what they could not recall later at all. They had the best feeling then. During the sleep, they felt protected and cared by each other as they closed their eyes.
She opened her eyes first and looked at him as the sunset’s beautiful orange shade glaze his face evenly. She was perplexed at the happiness she had felt at that moment. She had never been so baffled at anything at all in fact but today was not the same. They had spent those hours without spitting the words of hate. They had finally understood what it meant to be siblings, they had finally learned to love again.