Never again #writephoto

They bid farewell to one another, sidehugs and kissess. A hot summer day. An overwhelming afternoon

Until again. They all promised. And parted.


They were both in love, or so they thought. He, always a little more than her. She, always falling short. They both stood, ready to part. 

What is it about life that can’t let you stay? Can’t let you squeeze and hold tight, while the whole world goes about its business. It doesn’t really matter if you don’t want to play, life’s intervention will budge in like an unplanned middle child. Exhilarating and appalling, and one that has to stay. Are we really living a life, or are we an experimental group for someone observing the act of life?

He held her close. She closed her eyes, and took a deep long breath. Somehow she wanted this moment to be stretched however long was permitted. He kissed her on forehead, Until again, he whispered. And deep down she knew, it was a promise they won’t be able to keep.

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Tales from Sue Vincent’s Thursday #writephoto challenge. 

Once again, once before #writephoto

You looked at me. I was staring at the shadows on the long, dark walls. They were kind of intimidating, we both agreed. It felt like we’ve gotten ourselves into something we don’t understand. This was an uncomfortable realisation. We both felt a strange, incomprehensible reason to be. It felt pleasant, and trapped at the same time. So we had to get out of it, and reminisce later. It felt like a joy in sorrow, we carried it as gloom in joy. 

We had walked down these arches many times since then. 

And I’m not sure which ones are memory, and which ones are dream.

..

Tales from Sue Vincent’s Thursday #writephoto challenge 

Dark #writephoto

Once again you are ready to step into the waters. 

Do you still remember the shirlls from past? Do you remember the sensation of being choked? If you do and you still are, ha! I should commend your resolution.

There is something about the water that doesn’t scare me anymore. What would you rob off of dirt? Maybe I have fulfilled my wildest fantasies. Maybe I’m the wind that knows no home. How would you enslave the air? I could escape through the cracks and suffocate you to silence. 

The sea was quiet. The air was still. Nobody wanted to take anything off her now. 

Gracefully she approached the abyss. 

..

For Sue Vincent’s Thursday #writephoto challenge. 

Betrayal

Image by Miroslav Ambrus-Kis

He hid the reports in one of the Kitchen cupboards. It was positive. How long had they waited for this moment, years and years of prayers. They were getting desperate now, she more than him. Recently she had been unusually fidgety. It wasn’t the usual her. She had been patient all these years, but ever since they had come back from their reunion, he could tell that she had left something of her behind. Immediately he could tell that it was a bad to push her to go. She was reluctant, she had been all these years, he could never tell why. She would just complain how it was an opportunity for the high achievers to boast their perfect lives. But was that it? Was it her own failures that compelled her to never go? He could never tell. Maybe he’d never know.
He was an artist, and she had loved that about him. Loved it enough to keep them together all these years. Today their patience had paid off, he was ecstatic. He couldn’t wait to see the reaction on her face. He wanted to make it as special for her as he could. It could be the happiest moment of her life. He made her a puzzle. He wrote down a series of clues which would lead her to the reports.

As he gulped down the last sip of tea, he looked outside the window. The tea and sky had the same orange hue. He sensed a deja vu. He felt a chill run down his spine. He had just finished writing the last clue which was first in the series. He folded the envelope and put it under her pillow.

He glanced over the clock. It was 10. Utterly shocked, he realised that he was so engrossed in planning their perfect happy moment that he didn’t notice the time slipping out of his hands. She was never this late. He checked his cell. No message.

He poured himself some milk and went to bed annoyed. He tossed and turned in bed, adjusted the covers and room temperature, he couldn’t sleep. He slipped his hand under his pillow and felt the crumble of a cold, crinckled paper. He immediately felt a deja vu. Chills went down his spine.

She had left him a goodbye note.

 

 

Daily Prompt: Orange