Sunday, November 9, 2008

the mindless comfort grows when i'm alone with my great plans


this is probably one of my favourite pieces that i've written.
i wish i could write like this all the time, but it usually takes me about an hour to come up with something good, then erase it all, do it again, erase it, get fed up, go to the washroom, write something again, edit it and post it.
but anyways...
it's called "VISION"

The air feels light, and travels with a hint of warmth, like a summer breeze as it washes over you like a memory yet to be made. It brushes softly against her face, as if to guide her without so much as a thought. The pulse of the city and its nightlife can be felt in her soul. The music is faded; unimportant, yet casts a subtle nuance of atmosphere. She strides down the hall, and gracefully makes her way down the stairs. Guests are abound; few faces can be matched with names, yet all of them know her. Every man is an eligible bachelor, if he were co-ordinated enough to find his druthers; other men, if they could finance a decent enough divorce lawyer. All eyes on her. The champagne is in endless supply as resentful waiters scurry their way through the mansion. She sees them as men, not servers. But of course, she sees more than we know.

For them, the moment is perfect. The long-awaited arrival of a rising star, an heir to the fortune and fame of her family, an aristocracy of betrayal that she reluctantly has the power to control. Only she knows of the true intent of everyone here. Only she feels the pain looming in the near-future. The irony of the beauty in this place does not escape her. The place, stunning, the food, irresistible, the feeling, unforgettable. What's missing, she must wonder. Can something too good to be true, actually be true? Reality; so subjective nowadays.

She shrugs off the views, the sounds, the feeling of a soon-to-be unforgettable night, and makes her way toward the dining room, where hours of slavery and years of discerning perfectionism have created masterpieces of sustenance fit for royalty, yet served to the well-dressed and well-spoken scum of her society. But fate has a twist of itself in store for her. She walks, as gracefully as she always does, further down the endless maze that she calls home. And that's when time stopped. Her glance is returned by a guest she didn't remember inviting, sitting by the fireplace. My attention is turned to them, as well. Moments like this are few and far between; one is left to wonder if they even exist. But as her eyes met with his, neither time nor life itself could pose so much as a distraction. Amidst the fog of this moment, her heart pounding in her chest, it seemed as if their eyes could look upon nothing else. He was everything she could want; she could feel a sense of virtue in him, like the black sheep of a group filled with unfeeling egotists. Then, as surely as she smiled genuinely for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she is taken out of her fantasy by a drunken guest.

"This is some get-together, isn't it..............S....s.."

"-Sandra."

"Sandra, yes. Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of it....."

"Thank you," she replied mustering all the dignity she could to waste her breath on him. She had more important things on her mind. Her sultry black hair is softly blown as she turns back toward the fireplace. The chair is empty. In the blink of an eye, he was gone. Was this a dream? A dream is but a vision; a fantasy too deep to perceive in reality. As surely as he was seen, he was gone.

Heartbeats return to normal and questions go unanswered. Was it real?

Was any of it real?

The solution lies in a question; but the answer, is up to you.

What is real?

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

this piece of writing is SO amazingly like one i wrote ages ago it kinda creeps me out a tad.

n_n

i love it!!

krystinadee said...

you should post it on your blog, i'd love to read it! :D

krystinadee said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
 
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