Masquerade Vehemence

CHAPTER 4: BLINDNESS UNDER A THOUSAND LAMPS

When Sarah opened her eyes, she was in another realm entirely. She was in a cold, damp passageway; the table with all the food was there as well. Although it was the same table, there were words written all over it, making meaningless sentences.

Extremely huge manuscripts were hanging from the top floor of that five or six story building. Things--stories, memories, formulae, derivations, route-directions--were scribbled on the pages in not so legible but consistent calligraphy—all in different fonts and sizes. And they glowed, too. The floor was pitch black with some writings in white colour.

When she looked up closely at the table, she saw that these weren't any random words. When put together, they formed a song along with keynotes for piano. She'd taken piano lessons in school, but still couldn't make out what the entire piece would sound like. Sometimes the entire story was obvious and known to you, except it wasn't.

There were—she blinked—and everything disappeared. Sarah looked around queerly.

Now she was among some orange autumn trees. It was few minutes until the sun kissed the horizon; until the birds went back, and hid in their nests, cozy against one another; until the predator slithered home, and the prey breathed freely one more day; until moon prepared to ricochet light and it's stunning beauty. The moon wasn't beautiful because it sparkled dull colours; it was because embraced its craters, while animals were too busy separating stripes from skin.

Until the day Sarah and Nathan met died.

Thousands of colour-spilt canvases were everywhere she'd look—one with a girl standing with a royal dark blue gown; another with a boy looking at the painter with tear-filled eyes; girl sitting on a beach as she saw the waves rise up and fall down; a mother with a child her arms. What caught her eyes was the canvas where a six-member family with two boys' arms on each other's shoulders and another one with the mother. There was sister too with long hair. She gave a glance to the floor—

"You look around with such fascination," Nathan said out of the blue.

All of sudden she had to snap out of this beauty and had to look at him. Ugh. "What is this? It's mesmerising."

"Would you believe if I said that I'm making you hallucinate and make you see, well, anything I want you to see."

She abandoned her chair and went to smell the poppy scent of the flowerbeds. In the evening, these smelt like a scent the warm sun would have. She touched a flower which looked as though it were living. When she touched it, a ghastly vibe, rather morbid and uncanny ran down her body like shivers. Without turning she asked, "Even in a custom-made reverie, you couldn't be less diabolic."

He raised his eyebrows. "I didn't quite empathise that sentence. If you mean it metaphorically, I don't know what you mean."

"On the contrary, I mean it explicably literally. There was a strange feeling when I touched these lilies." She looked over her shoulders and said, "I hope you haven't filled with all the lies and indignation you've spoken in these centuries."

"You and bitter talks aren't the best couple. I'm still incoherent as to was I to be hurt or be disheartened by what you said."

"Why—damn it—don't talk to me," she said as her face went red. Her hands were stroking the stalks of the flowers thoughtfully. She didn't want to look at him. There was a shot of anger and irritation flowing through her veins. "Uh, I'm famished," she thought.

"Very well then, you're the one at loss," he said as softly as the light rustle of trees on a calm twilight, and commenced to ruffle his hair.

She didn't want to argue on how beautiful this scene looked and how a part of her didn't want to leave this site ever but at last shoved down the thought of admitting it in somewhat reluctance. The thought of the surrounding changing again seemed terrifying. Because if it did, she'll forget this gorgeous sunset. So she took it all in one deep inhale.