Look, guys, I know I haven’t posted in nearly 10 days. I would normally give you the usual spiel that I’ve been busy with important stuff and will start posting regularly again shortly. Except that I’m awful at apologies. And that that isn’t true. Yes, I will start posting again more often, but no, I haven’t been occupied. To be honest I’ve been sitting inside reading all day, or watching Disney movies online. But come on, haven’t we all had that moment when you have so many new ideas of articles, essays and just general writing material that it overwhelms you and you end up posting absolutely none of it? Because that’s my case. I have a notebook-full of ideas, many of them already written out, but I can’t find the will (nor the use, some of the time) to post it all. The best I can say for myself is I’ll make an effort to keep posting them. Once I start the machine again, pull the levers and set the cogs in motion, the left-over momentum should make it easier for me to keep posting. Sorry for this really long monologue and for having to excuse myself in the first place. And here is – an entire week late – a piece I wrote for a challenge that should have been posted prior to July 17th… Oops.
My key words are: brightness. Century. Contemporary.
I watch her cross the square, her long black dress billowing in the wind of her swift pace. I, however, hide myself safely in the shadow behind the corners of buildings. Picturing curious villagers peeking out from behind the long white curtains of their apartments, wondering what I might be hiding from.
After a century, I have finally found her again. The emotion rises to my eyes and I attempt to stifle the flow of tears. Once upon a time, I would have concealed them behind my top-hat, but in this contemporary era, that dress-code has been ruled out, has become regretably obsolete. So instead, I turn to face the dark stone of the alleyway and press my hands and face against its piercing cold to help me focus.
Once again, we’ve found each other. It inevitably happens, when you trek the earth for millenia, yet the sight of her always leaves me breathless when I grow unaccustomed to her bightness. She always strides by me when I finally see her again, my clothes hardly even moving with the wind she picks up as she passes, yet her presence somehow making a shiver rise within me, without fail.
But how could she know the effect she has on me? Of course, she forgets everything from one life to the next. I, on the other hand, am cursed – or blessed – to remember every single detail of her. The exact colour of her eyes through each reincarnation, and even the sparkles or imperfections of each. The likes and dislikes, beliefs and maneurisms which change every time. She can’t fathom the power she has over me. I am pulled in by her light, like a planet orbiting the sun. I will always revolve around her. Can you understand that I have no choice in the matter? That even if I did, I would always choose her? So I do what I know I must, what I do each and every time. I gather my skattered thoughts together, pick up the pieces of me off from the wet pavement, sow them together again and set out behind her, the words I wish to say already in my mouth, sitting restlessly and energetically on my tongue.