She was the girl who wanted lilies. He was the boy from the maze. Why had they met? I don’t know.
When he first saw her, she was a haughty, stubborn being spending all day, everyday at the doorway of her garden waiting for something magical to happen. It was Summer time. When the sun used to be at the peak of its reign, snobbish, ruthless, depriving people of their minds and hearts. He used to be worried of what the sun might do to her tender heart so everyday he carried with himself a dense cloud of his gentle words to protect her while she sits and waits, adamant not to move.
I can fairly say now, if it wasn’t for his efforts to shade her, she could have burnt herself in the blazing sun. And for her, she didn’t take the privilege well.
Fall came. The sun grew milder, and his cloud lost a bit of its purpose. One day sitting as usual, waiting for magic, she looked up and saw a dense cloud blocking the rays of sun from reaching her. She grew furious. She pointed at the cloud and told him that it made her days blue. She hushed it away. He silently watched. He walked away, and never came back.
It was fall, after all. Someone was meant to lose something.
Little did she know, all this time looking ahead expecting magic to happen, she hadn’t even learnt to recognise it. For, magic was already there. She had to look up.
Winter came. And stayed. Years went by.
She had none of the magic left in her life. Her heart was a frozen speck in a forest of perpetual winter. She could ignite it for the night, but every morning the wood was damp and the fire went out. How many snowfalls there has to be before the Spring, she didn’t know. Or would there even be one? Nobody knew.
Perhaps the cold was a memoir to the magic that was once a part of her life.
But she couldn’t ever figure that out.
Magic, this week’s theme for Sue Vincent’s #writephoto challenge.