Musings on the Journey

They never ask you what you see, when you stare out the window. They never ask and you never tell, because some things are better left to the imagination of others. When the night is so dark you almost forget the stars, you stare into a flickering flame instead. And your thoughts keep on wandering, always wandering.

They never tell you to stop believing, but it's implied, in so many small and heartbreaking ways. You answer the unspoken sentiment with unspoken reassurances. It does not matter if they believe in you - someday, somehow, you will have proven yourself. Till that day you keep watching, you keep thinking, and you keep working toward your dream.

Some journeys take longer than others, but that does not mean they're not worth the fare.

Left -short short story

They write notes to each other on post-its, until they run out of paper one day and they start to scrawl on the fridge instead. Black and red and blue all mingled together till the white is all but a memory. He doesn't remember who started it, might have been him. Probably wasn't. Two cups stand on the sink, side by side; one large for coffee, one gigantic for tea. The cups migrated out of the cupboards months ago, it was just too much work; opening and closing and reaching. His hands itch to break them both, but he doesn't. Instead he plucks out an ordinary glass and fills it with water. He takes one sip, then two, before throwing the rest away. Right now there would be a gentle reprimand concerning water conservation. The quiet screams in his ears and he flees the kitchen.

The living room is also much too quiet for comfort. His hands automatically go to the stereo and put the records on shuffle. Too late he remembers when they last listened to this particular mix. He can't bring himself to push the stop button though, not when the music starts with the soft gentleness of Adagio. His thoughts stutter to a halt and he listens with horror at the much too familiar words. The door bell chiming saves him from any more reminiscing and he takes money to pay for the pizza. The tip is plentiful, he just can't concentrate on something as petty as counting money right now. Five hours till the plane ride home, this isn't his place anymore. With a look at the empty hangers by the door he wonders if it ever was.

Compassion - Fiction Drabble - 100 words.

Hospital smell, shoes on rubber floor. He hardly knows the woman in the other room and the man walking out is a stranger. A blank face greets him. So it's over now. Empty words lie heavy in the pit of his stomach. He is not a friend, or a lover, or family. He is no one to this desolate soul. But he is the only one here. Glimmer of a moment. He hesitates. The man takes a seat. Hands clasped, head lowered. This is grief then, hesitations are through. He places his hand on a shaking shoulder, and holds on.

Untitled Snippet

She ends up somewhere between there and not quite yet. The storm calls to something primal inside; the same thing that had her dancing under lightning filled skies until she was old enough to be afraid. It’s strange, she thinks, how you get more afraid as the years go by. If anything you should be less fearful because you’ve already lived so much. The older you get the less there is to miss out on. She knows that’s just part of the story and neither here nor there, but a spot of fancy is needed right now. 

The wind has turned to whisper, low and seductive. If she goes out, she will be right in the eye of the storm. That is her stronghold, but what’s the fun in being safe? The moment passes, the eye is gone and fire crosses the sky. She smiles at the dancing flashes; they seem to her a mixture between game and a mating dance. Or perhaps they are the same. She knows the moment before she decides to move; it is marked by a heavy feeling in her head and warmth swiftly followed by cooling sweat. As the rain sets in she runs outside, raising her arms and dancing underneath the tumultuous skies. The rain kisses her lips and she kisses back. She is not safe, speaks the rumbling thunder, but at last -she feels alive.