Sifting through the embers

Discussion in 'Arts and Photography' started by Xanan, Jun 13, 2012.

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  1. Xanan

    Xanan RAID Rookie

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    Part One, in the eye of the storm- The Rock:

    He looks down below, as white waters roar swiftly by, brushing against the roots of the rock on which he is perched so precariously above. The rock, in itself, is a divine piece of sculpture, thrusting out from deep within the bowels of the earth, a sheer flat face, craggy from years of battle with time and wind and rain, falling swiftly from the sky to the fury of the river down below.

    The wind rushes against it, as if its only purpose is to remove this sorry monument away, the only companion to this lonely boy who finds solace in it, amid the uproar and the noise of the elements, but then, the rock stands tall, a desperate attempt to hold its head high against the unbeatable, mocking the howl of the wind as it has done for so many countless years, and will, in the many countless years to come.

    It is this rock which calms him down in this turbulent world, as the yellow sun gently warms his hair with which the wind has been playing for so long. He dangles his legs, careful not to upset the box in his lap. After all, the box is him, him, as he has changed in all these years, like him growing old and faded, getting jaded and faded, but still holding on to all that has made him and broken him to what he now is.

    Very slowly, he opens the lid to his memories which have slept for so long and peers inside. The box reveals nothing to his sun-blinded eyes; it is only his fingers that tell him that he is sifting through the embers, slowly and quickly.

    Part Two, the first memory- The Pebble:

    His fingers brush against something round. He holds it against the sun- it is a pebble, a light yellow stone, as warm as it was in his fist on that day.

    He is at his school, his home for most of his life, his mother when he had none and his identity when he was just a face in the crowd.
    He looks imploringly at a figure whose hand is trying to take him away from there. He tugs at the restraining hand, a desperate attempt to break free.

    “Let me go- I want to stay here” says he, and as if on cue, the hand loosens its clutch.

    There is a sudden jerk and the boy falls to the ground.

    “You cannot stay here, you must go” says a voice.

    The hand grabs him again, dragging him away.
    The boy clutches at the ground to save himself from being taken away, but his fingers just plow the dirt.
    Giving up, he opens his fist- inside is a small yellow stone, a parting gift from his mother for so many years, warmed by his sweaty palms.


    Part Three, one more wound- The Guitar Pick:

    He digs into the box again, and this time, there is a sudden rush of pain. He pulls out his hand, his bleeding finger, and sees the miscreant which caused the wound, a metallic object gleaming brightly in the dying sun, a guitar pick.

    He is walking casually with an acquaintance- he has so many of them, acquaintances them all, but no friends.

    “So, how’s life been treating you?” says the vermin, pronouncing ‘been’ as he were saying ‘bin’.

    His shell reacts; he must not give anything away.
    He answers in a flat drone:

    “Fine- nothing much, really”

    “And how’s your guitaring going?” the rat pesters him, damn him to hell and more.

    He stops suddenly; the slime has hit the chink in his armor. He must not be weak, he must not sound like a loser.
    He screws his eyes until they are just slits in the mask of his face and says:
    “I’ve stopped playing”

    “But why? Wasn’t it your only dream?” asks the rat.

    “There’s a time and a place for everything” he replies as he walks forward.

    “Someday, I’ll play again” he says to himself.
    “Someday…”

    Part Four, the straw that broke the camel’s back- The Card:

    He licks his finger again, blood tastes so salty, and delves again. Something rigid and flat nuzzles up to his fingers. It is a card, an invitation card.

    “He is brilliant, isn’t he?” he says to the girl, as the boy in question wraps his arms around his mother and looks questioningly at this lanky stranger who’s turned up suddenly, holding up a bunch of flowers.

    “He is just like his father” she says, standing behind a dining table.

    “So you got married after all” he says.
    “Yeah, long time ago” she replies.

    There is an awkward silence, and she glances furtively at the clock on the mantle-piece.
    Sitting next to it is photo-stand, a family photograph, a bunch of happy faces in various motions of saying “Cheese!”

    “Don’t know what is taking Jim so long, my husband you know…by the way, didn’t you get my wedding card? I’m so sorry I forgot- there were so many people and Jim doesn’t like my old friends. I’ve got one left though… ”

    She disappears into a room, only to emerge with a jaded red card.

    He silently takes the card and walks out into the silent night and the cold street, just in time to see her relieved face as she closes the door to the place, and her heart, the look affirming that he was once special, and she loved him, and she promised that she’d marry him, and yes, things have changed and he’s not welcome there anymore, she has a separate life you see…


    Part Five, The Swan’s Song- Letting It All Go:

    He keeps the box away. He cannot bear it anymore. The memories are killing him, just like he’d been killed all along. He shouts:

    “You killed me, day by day, week by week, month by month. You killed me and you watched me die, slowly but surely.”

    And then, with one sweep, he knocks the box down. He watches it fall down that steep flat face, a glorious arc of certain oblivion.
    Half way down, the box flips, and his memories race for the water in a paradoxical slow-motion moment. The box and his memories hit the water, and the embers disappear in the turbulence without even a splash, but the boy doesn’t care about the embers anymore, the wind of the world had already blown the fire out.
    --- Post Merged: Jun 13, 2012 12:42 PM ---
    Tagging Luciffer
     
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    ManISinJpr: 51 Points (You rocked the boat !!!) Jun 13, 2012
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  2. ManISinJpr

    ManISinJpr Want to resurrect.. !!!

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    Xanan.. you are one day going to mention me (in an interview ) and Luciffer that we cajoled and literally forced you to let go of your literary skills and be with us so that we and the world can see !! what you are made off !!
    I read this, twice and then just like I told JD666, some time back.. we are going to rock the boat !!

    But don't stop your writing.... I will torment you if you even think about it !!
     
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  3. MOZ

    MOZ RAID Leader Staff Member

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    Brilliant. You never shared this side of you when we chatted on FB. :(
     
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  4. Luciffer

    Luciffer Satan Spawn Staff Member

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    I generally hate using the "+1" thingy...
    But in this case.. it's soo apt.
    Not much I can add anyways to ManishDa's post :)
     
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