Amaranthine Odes | ONC 2022

◻Chapter 01◻✔️

◻Mysterious Miseries◻

Beware, oh masters, I can be a petulant friend and a blarney foe.
~ REGRETS.
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The gentle winds rushing through the inch-high square windows flipped the pages, compelling his palms to deter them. Beneath the golden lantern, his resurgent brown eyes hunted down the prints word by word with his thin fleshed lips curled between his teeth.

He was immersed in his world of reasons and negotiations over the facts he had been hunting for years all alone. Amidst the skating shifts, he halted at a specific phrase that lit up his senses.

Rereading it, he crossed his arm to grab the spiral notepad with neatly folded violet cover and peeping fluorescing flags. He pulled the blazing orange page titled 'Summary 89' only to sigh at the pointers, asterisks, and strikes, with red and blue dots speckled over his writing.

Unlocking the polished wooden drawer, he ruffled his fingers over the scattered bunch of stationary to pick the finger pen. Releasing the cap, he marked the analogous words with black dots.

Three out of twelve? Just one-fourth? His eyes widened at his thoughts.

"Tushant! You aren't lost. Just give it an attempt till the end." He patted his heart, syncing it to his deep breaths.

His eyes sunk low enough to read till the last line. His gritting teeth and fisted palms vented his ire to the whiffs of the wind clasped between them. With nothing more left, he slammed the book.

Has been a year of normalcy. She will be fine. Won't she?

"But I must know what the reason could be. Relapses do occur, and her brain is complex enough." He opened his fingers to gape at the sweat beads between his creases.

Over the years, the hunts lead nowhere. No known syndromes or conditions. Why won't she remember anything that could help me?

His moist hands ruffled his unkempt fringes.

Maybe it's time to move on.

He flattened his lips as his fingers lingered on the pushed-back book.

But moving on is a trap of the bullying past.

"Anna! Lost in the land of patients and strategies?" Her high-pitched, anger-dipped call pulled him out of his tangles.

Quick as a bee, he stacked the massive book in the teak wooden rack over his study table. Tidying the mess in front in a minute, he unlatched the door.

"What in the world have you been busy with? Can't you come out to dine at the right time any day?" Kimaya shrieked over the striking metallic twitches.

He peeked at her back to look at the ticking antique wall clock reading fifteen past eleven. When he set his eyes at the level of her chocolate brown, almond eyes, he could read their prankish rage.

"Alright! My mistake. Sorry, dra- Ahem, ahem. Sweet sist-"

"Drama queen? Ah? You are stressing much. I'm afraid you will soon need a psychologist." She crossed her arms over her blue-streaked white shirt.

"Ah, my princess, I'm sorry. And I promise to-"

"Nine ninety-five!" She sneered. Tushant lifted his furrowing, thick brows.

"You have not kept nine ninety-four promises, and here is the next one on the line. What a record-breaker you are!"

"Thousand sorries! Alright? I shall set a reminder from today." He pinched his earlobes to assure her.