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It's Not a Love Story
#WritcoStoryPrompt9
The cry was faint but I heard loud and clear it as I walked past the dark bushes. My steps faltered. It was late and I wasn’t sure if it was a smart thing to stop and inspect the source or not. But it was that voice, crying, pouring her heart out that made me stop. I started to walk in that direction with the slow rhythm of my feet, but with fast rhythm in my heart. There she was sitting, clutching the wall as in it was her mother, waiting for her to put her arms around her and make her believe that everything is still okay. I went towards, put my hands on her asked, and asked if she was alright. She replied, “No, I am not okay.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“What is love?” She asked in return.
I looked into her eyes and kept staring. I didn’t know what to say so I just kept looking. She continued further,
“What is love? I feel in love with someone, someone who loves me, someone who looked at me as in I was all the things he always wanted, sipping me in as in I was his morning coffee and looking at me as in I was all the wonders in the world. He would look at me and fill all of himself by my presence but he never looked into me. He wanted to feel me, be close to me but still was never close when we were close enough. He wanted to hold me but never ever held me when I wanted him to. I told him I don’t like to be chained to which he smiled and assured me he won’t until the next day he bought some bangles and payaal. They say no questions are raised when you are in love. I don’t have any need to utter the word ‘no’ or he never asked me for which I could answer ‘no’ or maybe it was the loss of strength that made me stay silent. No matter whatever I do, the fault was always mine. What would he know? All he ever knew was to love me as in I was a rose petal; plucked each one as a possibility for choosing ‘yes’ or ‘no’. I don’t’ have any complaints about him, just hate. Pure hate. To him and to that thing which he calls ‘love’. The person who doesn’t ask for my permission never recognizes my forcedness, want to stick forever to my lips but never want to glide into my heart. What is this love? What is this body? Is it someone’s slave? I want him to take my name and join it with his. If he wants my hand, I will give him until he twists it, locks it, breaks it. If he wants my heart, take my chest, rip out everything he finds and throw it aside. Take my soul, hold it, stretch it. Take my pride, my dreams, my ambitions, my success, my bangles, my everything. Take everything from me and just leave me. I want him to leave me. I don’t even remember how I used to be before he entered my life. What kind of person I was? Was I shy or was I loud? But I sure was happy.”
I kept looking at her, draw her close, and hugged her while she kept crying there in my arms. I know she was a stranger but she was human and so was I.
© Vaish
#vaish #notalovestory #writco #storytime #heartbreak #Love
The cry was faint but I heard loud and clear it as I walked past the dark bushes. My steps faltered. It was late and I wasn’t sure if it was a smart thing to stop and inspect the source or not. But it was that voice, crying, pouring her heart out that made me stop. I started to walk in that direction with the slow rhythm of my feet, but with fast rhythm in my heart. There she was sitting, clutching the wall as in it was her mother, waiting for her to put her arms around her and make her believe that everything is still okay. I went towards, put my hands on her asked, and asked if she was alright. She replied, “No, I am not okay.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“What is love?” She asked in return.
I looked into her eyes and kept staring. I didn’t know what to say so I just kept looking. She continued further,
“What is love? I feel in love with someone, someone who loves me, someone who looked at me as in I was all the things he always wanted, sipping me in as in I was his morning coffee and looking at me as in I was all the wonders in the world. He would look at me and fill all of himself by my presence but he never looked into me. He wanted to feel me, be close to me but still was never close when we were close enough. He wanted to hold me but never ever held me when I wanted him to. I told him I don’t like to be chained to which he smiled and assured me he won’t until the next day he bought some bangles and payaal. They say no questions are raised when you are in love. I don’t have any need to utter the word ‘no’ or he never asked me for which I could answer ‘no’ or maybe it was the loss of strength that made me stay silent. No matter whatever I do, the fault was always mine. What would he know? All he ever knew was to love me as in I was a rose petal; plucked each one as a possibility for choosing ‘yes’ or ‘no’. I don’t’ have any complaints about him, just hate. Pure hate. To him and to that thing which he calls ‘love’. The person who doesn’t ask for my permission never recognizes my forcedness, want to stick forever to my lips but never want to glide into my heart. What is this love? What is this body? Is it someone’s slave? I want him to take my name and join it with his. If he wants my hand, I will give him until he twists it, locks it, breaks it. If he wants my heart, take my chest, rip out everything he finds and throw it aside. Take my soul, hold it, stretch it. Take my pride, my dreams, my ambitions, my success, my bangles, my everything. Take everything from me and just leave me. I want him to leave me. I don’t even remember how I used to be before he entered my life. What kind of person I was? Was I shy or was I loud? But I sure was happy.”
I kept looking at her, draw her close, and hugged her while she kept crying there in my arms. I know she was a stranger but she was human and so was I.
© Vaish
#vaish #notalovestory #writco #storytime #heartbreak #Love
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