The music enveloped her; making her feel that if she were to fall right now, she would find herself floating on the high notes of his voice. It did not matter if the lyrics were borrowed ones, his singing gave her pleasure more than his love.
“You make me want to be a better man”, he had whispered last night and he really needed to do that. She sighed, her disappointment and anger mixed in the cut marks hidden below her dress. It was her way to punish him for straying, for losing himself in his own words. Their pain was what had kept them sane(or not) and together; and that is how it always has to be, she smiled.
There was a system to all the envelopes hanging in her house; a system only she knew. The black ones for the characters never published, the white ones for the ones who have not decided which story to appear in, and then there were the red ones.
The red ones were few and rare and sealed tight forever. Those were the stories that she had sold to others. She sometimes stood below a red one and tried to guess which little marvelous idea of hers was in that particular envelope. There was no way to recognize it though even if someone opened it – each envelope only had the money and a date.
Written for Image prompt @ What do you see / word prompt @ Six Sentence Story
“A hundred miles away, or perhaps next door – the distance does not matter”, he smiles as he whispered to himself. His mother used to say this about love. “When the time comes, love will walk into your life and take you by surprise”, she would yell from the kitchen, shaking her head at his sulking frame. He wished to hear her one more time, one last time before he left the house forever. Tomorrow, he would be in a new city, a new country with the love of his life. She used to be his next-door neighbor then, and years later he found her, waiting for a lover from miles away
“You should always reach for the stars , if you want to end up with some stardust at least”, her mother’s voice echoed in her head as she watched him walk out of the door , not for the first time but perhaps the last if she could not convince herself of the flaws in this philosophy.
With every step he took away from her, the pain in her head intensified , reaching the nape of her neck and spreading to her limbs gradually. The tears came next , uninvited yet relentless in their expression of disappointment at her actions , or the lack of it.
At end of the hallway , he paused and turned towards the picture that hung on the left wall; their first date in the old coffee house that did not exist anymore, maybe like their patience for each other’s limitations; he thought to himself and instinctively touched the photo where their hands met each other.
“I am sorry,but I can not promise you the stars anymore when I do not even trust the land to let me stand unharmed any more.”, he said softly before looking into her eyes with a new resolve. “But you will always rule the underground as my queen and I promise the skies are not any less pretty there even if devoid of stars or star dust; you can hang some of our love to light up the nights if needed”, he said and wished to her to not let him go , one more time ; one last time.
“It is going to be legendary” he pinged him “Like all other ideas?” she teased “Mock me all you want, I am still doing it.” “And if it fails, you would not be upset.” “Never. I would have tried it and I know It will be fun.” “It will be, let’s get the ball rolling on this podcast then.”
“We asked for a place people would not note at all”
“You asked for a place to hide the spaceship”
“Not a tourist place like this”
“You only need it the night, why waste it in the day”
“How does attracting people help?”
“Are you kidding? Don’t you know the earning from tourists”
“You are being crazy.” “Maybe. And you are starting to irritate me” “How dare you, I have been posing here and there and everywhere ..” “Because you like your pictures” “My face deserves your camera. Why should I scale this bridge for a back shot?” “Because that’s the prompt, Love”
The child was creating a ruckus as was his favorite thing to do in the afternoon. It was only when she heard footsteps on the roof, she decided to check for monkeys but found the empty kitchen. Everything within his reach was in its place but the hanging pots were another story.
He had managed to jump on the roof, now giggling and running free. “Young man, If you refuse to come down right now, you are not getting any dinner” Mary yelled as she looked up at the window. “Your powers should have slept for another ten years”, she muttered as she called his guardian to come handle this complication.
The cardinal rule, she repeated to herself, was never to forget his kindness.Even if it came attached to an arrogance that scared her. Some relations, for the sake of a name, are built on rules, which are expected to be adhered to at all times. In his case, she knew better to test those boundaries. So years passed, but she dared not to ask if he still remembered the stories they made together. Somewhere far away, he opens the old emails; taking strength from her words and presence; even if it was something he never deserved.