The Random Log at a Gate

If the child did not hold the candle wick, the town would not know where to go. The dark grey little church would ring its bell till the autumn blossoms fell home. The people's doors felt like a void, one that we were bound to get sucked into. The skies would keenly watch the town, the place that was filling up with festive footsteps. That Saturday, we reached the town gates with a gaze on our foreheads swaying and searching for help. This is how it feels when you run away from something. It feels worse when you reach somewhere else. The drumming noises, the trumpets, and the coloured dances tried to invite us in. A common day for all at town. What hurts more is to find that you have reached home, and yet a stranger's plane. We settled our bags down on the muddy entrance and looked for place to sit and hesitated on our arrival. Hesitated on our approval and denial of truth. That was when rain fell on us, but our legs were paralyzed, ordered by a mind that did not want to travel. The hard bark covering the log grazed our skins through our pants. We reclined and fell asleep in a strange trance, leaning on the town wall. We heard various songs that made our ears feel like railways signals. Swishing and running over our memories, the dreams refused to come, and the dreamcatcher waited patiently on the road-bend. I felt bad for him. He laid his net on the floor and looked at us. He would take breaks to look at the sky, which was too happy to clear up. I started to doubt the rain. Was it really raining? Why is the town still alive? Does no one want shelter? I did not want shelter. I wanted to be chased away from all systems. I ran away from one, and refused to join any other. I just failed to see that even chaos has a system. A strange one that fools you, just because it is non-linear. It is concentric.

With a sudden rustle of shirts, she woke up and looked deep into my eyes. I felt her hand on my shoulder and the scraping sound jarred as she pulled herself closer. I looked past her, I believed, but I remember every move of her expression. She imposed a smile and then winked her eyes. She was plain tired. I felt that she wasn't thinking. She wasn't watching. I could run away without her knowing. All of sudden, like she could almost read minds, her hand clutched my arm with a stronger intention. I breathed hard. I was lost. She was in love.

Once upon a time, like a fairy tale eon ago, I did love this girl. She was all I needed. She was all I knew. And she was the only one who seemed to know me. She never failed to know me. But, I had forgotten somewhere to listen to her. I could not remember a word of what she told me for the past few days, months, and probably, all these years. Yet, I seemed in love and could think of no one else. Does she exist? She pulled herself up and walked behind the wall. I patiently watched. Her feet looked blue bathed in the neon lights and sinking in my footsteps. The rain bathed her essence with no strength to separate her scents. Only her shoulders shivered. She was no timid, cut-out pretty lady of the covers. She was beautiful, in and out. She was one who cared for her mind, and her body. A gift. Suddenly, I remembered the presence of the dream catcher. He wasn't at the road bend. He was sitting on my left, tilting his head to his right. He still gazed right into my eyes as if it was filled with activity inside the pupils. My eyes felt empty. I was watching. I could see. But, my eyes felt like they did not see anything real.

*it will grow, I promise. GJ help me out.