Published by Aliyah Margareth Imbat
Date Published: April 15, 2023
Time Published: 2:51 PM
Category: Prose
Theme: Mystery, Fantasy, Anticipation, Self-Deception.
Synopsis: She’s in the field of my vision yet she remained unknown. My sanity couldn’t help but slip as I craved to unravel her identity.
I do not smile. I hate smiling when the reason will always be the same. Every morning I lay on the floor, pressing my palms together until they tremble. At night, in my bedroom—and by day in the company, an image came between me and the page I seize to read. I had never provided any answer to my vivid images. I thought it was our old tenant, the old lady who would always boss us around. However, the image in my mind was younger, and more tranquil than usual.
When my days came to end, I always find myself under the scorching sunlight, trying to comb the images away from my mind. This happened every day, a day or time wouldn’t skip as she always appears in my mind. My brother and sister would often tease me about it when I share my recollections. They would sometimes call me "Mr. Dreamer" as I tend to diverge my senses to the daydreams I wished to recollect. We came to the point at which they would joke about calling the psychiatrist. It was something your lips would chuckle about. However, It still pests me.
I do not have a second to deal with it, so I resorted to doing jobs more than I can handle. I’m tasked to carry some of the boxes at my aunt's shop—and sometimes I also do parlor. My father always insisted that I should have dealt with one job, but I was stubborn to even listen. There was a hunger to the nameless, vivid images in my mind. A desire to just toss them away and move on. I stood by the railings looking far beyond my reach, yet—I can still see her. She would remain still and wait for me; her silhouette was defined by the moon's shades. It felt fascinating how detailed it looks even though she was just the vivid imagery of mine. Her cropped brown hair, chubby cheeks with roses of pink tinted in them, apoplectic necks, a porcelain doll-like skin that was shining like auroras, a perfect hourglass shape body—slim, nose like a bridge smoothen and curved. She was perfect according to my ideal.
A movement she also was seen to act was dancing, her body moved along the quiet space, her warmest dress of pink was brought in, and she was glancing in motion as her body moved, not over-dressing, no little extravagance masquerade. Her presence screamed simplicity.
The problem was I couldn't see her in reality. Here I am seated in my chair, resting my weight on the table using my arms. The space of sky above was the color of my desires, it felt ever-lasting as its contrast. I had never spoken to her, and neither have I attempted. Simple casual words uttered when I encounter her, and yet, her name was still unknown to my demise. The brushes of damp leaves along my window were foreseen. The wild garden overlooking the window was also seen to be moist from the heavy rain that had occurred in dawn. I came chafed against my duties, on Sunday mornings I prayed, and on the other days, I recline. Now the air was seen and felt to be pitilessly vague and raw, it made me swell in anticipation, giving me a thought to misgave.
My eyes never left the ticking clock. "Tick Tock! Tick Tock!" the clock sang, the nippy wind of nothing began to liberate me as I mounted my thoughts over and over, as the ticks began to enter my ears deeper, I was starting to get irritated. In a few minutes, my gaze left the clock as I placed my bare feet along my floor so I can proceed to my path. Locating myself, I found myself beside my window, looking over the overgrown azure of a somewhat like corpse.
I strode down the hall, finding a spot to relax. Soon after, I saw the library. My buttocks now reclining on the cushion. I searched and picked up a book to read, It was quite hard since several books had piqued my interest: Romeo and Juliet, Jane Eyre, The Great Gatsby, and more. I had settled on the story: To Kill A Mockingbird. Still, it was early, and my time was still free to use without any worries. My fingers traced under each letter, guiding me in reading each panel of sentences. I could not call my wandering thoughts together as her figurine began to stand inside my sights. My senses recognized the silence, her figurine lasted inside of me as I attempted to overcome the bugging accompaniment that was tickling me. It didn’t last long; I had given up. I was driven into a force of open-air bizarre. My time flew, I just noticed it when I could not focus anymore. My mind went blank as it flew across the unknown. When I went downstairs, I noticed the house was empty. My family was not present. Did they leave? They must have. My boredom was devouring me, only then I had planned to go out. The buildings that surrounded me felt gigantic compared to my house which was small. The cold wind blew past me as my metal rusted gate created a shrill noise like howling, in and out. I saw Miss Chemblepoom walking inside a pub. Was it open now?
My body was adorned simply because I wanted to feel appealing to the eye. Within a decision, I trailed my feet across the concrete ground and went inside the pub, I wanted to catch up with Miss Chemblepoom. The swaying door created an alarming sound that caught some of the customer's attention. Like the wind from outside, the noise and breeze inside were more evident and mildewed.
The windows were hung in a counted sequel, as for the place, it seemed archaic and lewd at first time appearance; all was furnished and stuffed. Glancing around, I saw Miss Chemblepoom among the crowd. She was seated amongst the women. I peeped to witness their conversation; however, I couldn't read their lips. "Just go approach them," said my mind. I did and approached their hurdle with a smile on my lips.
"Oh! Jonathan!" said Miss Chemblepoom.
"Hello, I just wanted to catch up. I haven't seen you in ages," I said, sounding pleasant and clung.
"Ah!" she let out, "Do you want to join us?"
"No. . . I might interrupt the business you have." returned me, discomfited.
"Oh, oh well! I'll just pay a visit to you!" said Miss Chemblepoom, giving me a tap on the shoulder.
This was very uncomfortable and awkward, as their stares focused on me. Whether I should have made out of this conversation so soon if there had been no fine lady sitting there; I cannot emit.
On the edge of the round table, elbows resting on the table as a piece of bread goes into her mouth, sat the strangest lady I had ever witnessed. She was dressed in white, satins with laces garnishing. Her hair was braided in a style afterwards encircled to appear like a pinnacle, and her nose and cheeks were flustered in pink; disparity with her porcelain skin. Her dress was less splendid unlike the others yet she still stood out amongst the rest. It was not in the first few moments that I saw all these things, though I witnessed more of them in the first moments than might be supposed. She was the girl in my dreams. She was real, I could not utter any words as my glimpse never left hers. She seemed much older than I, of course, she appeared beautiful as her features complimented her, a wise appearance was witnessed in her.
"Jonathan!" shouted Miss Chemblepoom, calling my attention.
"Huh?" still dazed, said I.
"Oh, silly!" chuckled Miss Chemblepoom.
Her gaze when to the lady I was talking about, and after, she let out a grin. She bumped herself on my shoulders on purpose, teasing me in a way only she could understand. It was then I looked away from her, avoiding her eyes, and I noticed her looking my way. Before Miss Chemblepoom spoke once more, I escaped the scene. Maybe it was a bad decision to do it. I didn't ask for her name. I just went home afterwards and rested my body on my soft mattress that was coated with coldness from the breeze. My eyes were now closed, and my heart was screaming a jarring noise that seemed to have howled my emotions. I took this opportunity of being alone and think about her. She was the one who kept popping into my mind? Is this destiny? Or am I getting played? This configuration gave me power to keep them and to look at her again, but I could not just go back there. I needed a reason. I smoothed my face with my palms and sighed.
My hands were coarse, my mind was at her again. I bawled my eyes around the room, "Tick tock! Tick tock! Tick tock!" sounds that were filling my room. Sounds of my rustle echoed, I was getting irritated. I should approach her, maybe she knew me as well.
One evening I went to the local pub. Upon entering I never saw her, she wasn't there. Where is she now? What innumerable follies laid on my waste thoughts had passed. My emotion melted when I sensed her presence around me, not physically but mentally. I found myself ambling around the park. My feet had now walked a mile from where I was a few minutes back. In unfortunate circumstances, I didn't trace her existence around the centre. For a moment I was staggered, though the import of her features was okay sufficiently.
The question had come to my mind abruptly: That was her, right? Her figurine stood out amongst the crowd; her plain silhouette was a bomb when I saw it. Heads and bodies kept moving back and forth, I was like a ship that was sailing across a vast ocean. Others were coming our way, and presently a little group of strange perhaps. My general impression of the world I saw over their heads was a tangled strand of beautiful white flowers and shadow, it was her. At my first efforts was met with a stare of surprise or inextinguishable ecstasy. Amidst the crowd, she stood completely out of place. I persisted in reaching her, pushing and tugging every cloth and body I felt to block me.
"Wait. . ." said I, breathless.
It was darker in contrast with the pale grey-blue of the foggy atmosphere. My eyes never left hers as she began advancing away. Quick, she whirled over the long trail of people. I looked up: "Bell St." a street she was walking into. There were no large frocks to be seen, as my restarted motion passed each one of them. My breath was cut short momentarily. Finally, I managed to get out of the tough crowd. It was not long however it feels like I took a long.
"Hey!" I yelled as I gasped for air.
She turned around, I couldn't help but admire her. She was full of soft feminine defiance, a trace of her manner was lingering, and her features always left strangers the impression of haughtiness. Moving lightly, her gaze was now on mine. Her eyes were indifferent like others yet enchanting, with soft glooms of maiden freedom.
"Me?" asked the woman, confused.
"Yes!" shouted me, sounding breathless.
She smiled. "Oh, why?" asked, chuckling a bit.
"I. . . I wanted to talk about something," I stammered, looking at her.
"Why? Do I know you?"
"No. . ."
"Oh. . . What is it that you needed to talk about?" asked the lady, walking towards me.
"Do you know something about sudden figurines and dreams?" said I, watching her reaction.
I saw her frowning in confusion. She gave me an unvanquished glance looking at me. The moment she sprang, I felt delighted. Yet, she must have felt dissimilar. Something inside of me had hopes on chances that she knew what I was mentioning. Maybe, she could have dreamed of me too.
There are possible chances, and one of them is inevitable.
"I don't. . . I don't know what you are talking about," said the lady.
"Wait?" my voice stopped, confused.
"Yeah? Why? I- I mean, I don't know if you are serious or not..." sounding discomfort, said the lady.
I was left dumbfounded. I could not believe that she didn't know what I am referring to, well I know it might have been only I, who can see those images. It felt like she had summoned my foolish blood to a roar. Her image made me drunk; she guided me even in places where romance was most hostile.
Am I impairing her words too deeply? I heard a voice call from one end of the street, gazing in front, I saw myself swelling in confusion and gloom. I felt her fingers tapping my shoulders. Her brows were still furrowed as her eyes pursue mine. I may have stood there for an hour, seeing nothing but her hair that was now tinted in gold by the sunlight, and her doll-like cheeks that were chubby like a marshmallow. I thought little of a future. She doesn't know what I am about, and it means she also doesn't dream and see anything about me.
"Why?" she asked, trying to read me.
"N-nothing. . . I just—never mind," I stopped
Her doe-eyes looked into mine, "Are you sure? We can talk about it." replied the woman.
"No, you don't even know me," I snap back, trying to distract her from noticing my emotion.
"Uh?"
"What?" said I, chuckling.
"You're weird," she cracks up.
"I'm not!" returned by me, chuckling.
Along the silent streets, our laughter echoed.
It was a moment for me to witness upon my knowledge. Stares. There were a lot of gazes filed at us, however, I didn't care and continued to talk with her. In another instant, we were standing face to face under a tree, talking to each other while watching the sunset. She was brighter than I thought, often she'd come up to me and chuckles into my eyes.
The absence of comfort and serenity was now filled. Then, hesitating for a moment about how to express myself, I pointed at the sun. Glancing towards my fingers, she followed my gesture. For a moment I felt staggered as I saw her side, her quaintly pretty eyes shined in auroras. As the sun sets down, I smiled to myself in fulfillment. How could I be in delight by just meeting this woman? The silent surrounding felt alleviating and consoling. Slowly, the frail light lamps were gradually lit up, providing the place a moonlit moment. I was grateful that I could see a lot, all my senses seemed to desire to veil themselves. Another encounter was brought into my hands, making me the happiest.
"Wake up!"
"Hey! Wake up! Wake up!"
"Wake up!
"Are you that sleepy?"
"Wake up!!"
My mind was foggy, and my eyes swelled in tiredness. Upon opening my eyes, the sun's rays welcomed me. I blinked a few times before sitting up straight. I saw the light hitting my face which made me groan in distress. My body felt sore, I sought to find a more comfortable spot when I felt the hard ground on my back. A bird's melody was heard as the wind brushes against nothing, the fallen leaves trailed on the ground as the nippy wind grew nimbler.
"Urgh!" I growled.
"We were looking for you!" North, my brother uttered.
"Where... Where is she?" asked I.
"Who?" returned my brother.
"Her..." I uttered, confused.
He lent his hand towards me to help me stand up, and so I did. My eyes wandered around the spot. To my demise, no fine lady was waiting for me to wake up. I was greeted by the people thronged along the morning paths, most of them well-dressed as regarded the material; but with a slovenly looseness which struck the threadbare of my shabby. Both of us set out to their house to go home. I couldn’t help but curl my upper lips in terror; I was now tired, and I would rather remain silent, and vowed to take myself rough after the encounter. Where is she now? Did she just leave me there? Just as I was exhausted with my last subject of conversation, my body could not help but nudge along my table to write her a letter:
“Dear Damsel,
Here, my belittled thoughts shall bloom along your circle of significance. I could not find you, even though I tried. Likely you were withered by fear or maybe clouded with duties. Hence, I am sending you a letter, written with my regards and courtesy. I had not wished for our encounter to brush out. Your quiet coldness of demeanor never left me in contemptuousness as I always admire the brighter you. You struck me at our first encounter, even in my fictitious matter.
It vanished too quickly damsel, I wish to meet you soon.
Jonathan,”
Here and there I was contemplating. Am I too fallen? Why am I even using these utterly ridiculous messages? Was I too flattering? She might think of me weirdly. I banged my head onto my desk, pushing the piece of paper out of my desk, purposed to be thrown. The chitty-chatter of mayhem was bugging me continuously without a lull. Voices of singing birds were also founded to distract me as sweat ran down my cheeks. "Tick Tock! Tick Tock!" At nine o'clock, I was awoken from my senses by my father's latchkey on the hall-door. I heard him talking to himself and heard the hallstand rocking when it had received the weight of his overcoat.
My head rose from sadness, peeking along the hall door for his presence. My emotions were like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing-- streaming whose sky was dedicated to midnight. Busy-buzz was heard outside my room, everyone in the residence was heard to be busy and steeping their bodies throughout the halls and doors. Was I too vexed? My senses were wandering, making me focus on these things more than on myself. At last, my body finally stood up and went towards the door. I never attempted to open it as multiple muffled voices were heard along the halls.
"Jonathan?" I heard my uncle utter.
"Y-yeah?" returned by me, contemplating to answer.
"Your aunt is here; she's looking for you. She's hoping to see you!" He said, I could almost hear him smiling.
"I'm busy," I said, "I'll go outside in a moment!"
What innumerable follies laid waste my waking and sleeping after that incident that I couldn't even process everything! I stared at my clock for some time, the cold liberated me, somewhat like lamplight discreetly shining onto me. It was direct. As time began to fly by, I looked beyond my window over the green azure, and there I had an idea. Without any doubts, I stood up and mounted the level of my window and peeked a look over below. "Oh, it's too high," my head remarked. I was doubting myself if I should just jump, yet it was too high for me, but I was hoping for a day to pass from amiability to sternness that would bring me to a quiet sight.
With that in mind, I jumped out of my window.
Damsel, I yearn to find you.
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