The Void Between Mirage And Reality

“Hellooo!” trailed a hesitant voice tapping ever so lightly at my right shoulder.

I turned around taken aback by the sudden voice, as I softly stepped out of my own train of thoughts.

I was looking straight at a small timid face of a young girl with dark lightly arched eyebrows widely spaced on a radiating broad forehead. Her lips were plump and a deep vibrant tone of peach red as if she had swallowed the sun and the contours reminded me of early morning petals of a blooming rose. Her perfectly pointed nose nestled snugly between her high cheekbones, with the tip sneaking slightly into the air as if curious to know all that’s going around. A course-textured, deep red shawl was tightly wrapped around her head framing her oval, cherub-like face.

Her big, dark, watery eyes stared right back at me as she hesitantly questioned, “Can I talk to you for a moment please?”

It was not a clichéd manner in which she asked so. Her voice had a certain gripping ring to it, like the distant soothing yet observant ring of church bells echoing in a valley.

I nodded.

“I want you to always remember a few things. Things about me. I am a girl who doesn’t like people screaming or shouting in anger, even if it is not at me and I just happen to stand in the room. It scares me. A lot. I don’t like people being angry at me. Not even in the slightest of manners. It upsets me, though I do try not showing that on my face.” She continued in a solemn voice like that of a child trying to convince some elder of the existence of nymphs, fairies and mermaids.

She kept talking and I seemed to have gotten myself to be in a trance-like state. I stared at her as she stood with me in the cold, cobbled street with a street light in the background making her presence seem dramatically overwhelming and silhouetting her petite, fragile figure.

And suddenly it all started melting in light. As if I stood in a hot room set up with rubber props that had suddenly started melting and the colours melted down into one another. The street seemed to be crying.

Crying, melting and disappearing into nothingness and giving way to a blank, numbing light. The light didn’t hurt my eyes, as a matter of fact it was quiet soft yet it engulfed me and and the silence it carried along with it seemed like a murder of crows angrily screeching and screaming at me and trying to pull at my hair and skin.

I shut my eyes close firmly as I felt it all subduing.

I slowly fumbled my eyes open to find myself surrounded by sooty darkness. Not the kind of dark where one can make out shapes of things around. Darkness that swallowed you up steadily, like some fear that gnaws on your insides.

The Yellow Raincoat

Our childhood fears cling to us like kids clinging to the legs of their parents outside candy stores. These fears make and break us, not just only for those specific moments, but also later, when we are grown and make our own ways in the world, leading our ‘adult’ lives.

Most people like to put it this way that these fears ‘haunt’ us, making them feel wrong or putting complete situations under a negative light when actually they are just events from the past that have had a strong influence on us. They probably took place only to avoid some sort of similar clinging memory, though what we do not realize at their time of occurrence is how in an attempt to make it all right or picture perfect, we are forgetting that mistakes are a part of a healthy learning process.

From this whole idea another thing that I mentioned above is how we try alienating our childhood from our adulthood. It’s one life and dividing it into sections is somewhat absurd. In order to understand that lets take a look at how the human mind transform from a child’s level of thinking to that of an adult.

When a child is born, he is innocent in all manners of speaking.  As he becomes older and what we refer to as wiser (I would rather call this simply call this getting to know the conniving and plotting ways of the world)he loses contact with the pure innocent being that he entered this world as. However, that innocence does not diminish from within him completely. It does leave behind some traces that reflect every once in a blue moon at least. Those who try keeping the child inside of them tactile and alive, nurturing it and protecting it like an expecting mother, are the once considered fools though it is them that get to taste the true flavor of the candy bar known as Life.

So keep that child inside of you strong and alive because when things become too hard to bear at times its going to be that very child that is going to save the adult you by referring to sanity every now and again by telling you fantasy stories of pixies and nymphs that though seem other-worldly and quite pleasant yet hold small pieces of such information which would make you put on a your yellow raincoat and those red wellies and smile as u skip along from one puddle to another on the broken and bumpy road outside.

Adieu!

You are the morning wind. Chilly yet comforting. Caressing me and  loving me as you blow through my night gown. Tapping me on the shoulder gently just to make me turn around and smile at you.

You bring in the zest needed as a fix for my morning blues. You are that unforgetfully beautiful moment when the weak tangy winter sun shines on me as you tickle me through. You play with the flowers, making them dance to your tune.

They say that your tune is silent though I think that’s not so. All they need to do is probably listen closely.

You are that sparkle in the eye of a child as he stealthily eat ice cream in the winters.

You are that kind of a morning wind. The kind that gushes at a speed so overwhelming where needed, breaking and tearing its way through though flowing like a smooth river of liquid silver as the full moon shines on it as it snakes its way through mountains.

You are the morning wind. My favourite kind of wind.

I miss you. Come home soon to tingle my spine and envelop me in your warmth like you always do. The same kind of warmth one feels when holding cashmere kids in one’s arms with their coffee coloured wool as they sweetly ‘Baa’aaa’ in your ears.