Under The Eternal Blue

Untitled, Unnamed, Understood

And there she was, blissfully quiet, basking in the dying embers of the setting sun, if one could call them so. 

It seemed to me a rather exquisite form of flame, tempered by its growing distance and condensed in the evening breeze, carrying with it a multitude of whispers. Murmurings of tomorrow etched deep within its drowsy gaze. And for some reason, it kept looking, abnormally more so than it had before as this had been her custom. Going out only when the sun was at his gentlest. She enjoyed his gaze at his weakest, and no doubt she believed it was mutual. As it tarried, I was inclined to believe it as well. Standing a few paces behind her, I slowly started to feel awkward. A lingering presence set out to interrupt whatever was unfolding before me. To any other, this would've been just a pretty girl sitting all by her lonesome before nightfall. It's odd, you see, how inexplicable the moments that capture us are and yet still, how strangely inviting.

Somebody asked me once how I knew she was pretty if that was truly the first time. 'Lucky guess,' I said but I just hoped she was. Whenever I sat in a bus or car, trailing the ladies we passed by, I always hoped they were pretty as I tried to sneak a glance at their visage. It's not so much a question of what I would gain if they were but a strange satisfaction met when I looked upon a beautiful thing. There was a tinge of wonder to it. Almost like a mystery ever before me that only the eyes could solve. But much like cuisines, this matter was different. There is that you may consume every day and that which offers the distinctive taste of a lifetime. It could be the same two meals but the difference is that for one, you were present, truly present, while for one you were not.

And there I was, present in my absence, content on following where this moment would lead to. Desiring to savour it, for as long as the sun lingered. I hadn't at this point noticed her piercing gaze that was tending towards extreme discomfort. All of a sudden I could feel a shriek coming on. This was not the first time my absence had prompted such a reaction so by this point my body could sense the warning signs. It was probably the knife. 'Shh, shh, shh,' I whispered as I firmly held her mouth shut. Twisting the knife in her back-wait, what!? Yes, I believe it is, that kind of story. The kind I tell to myself differently. Sleep hasn't been sweeter since. As long as these worlds are separate, as long as they are parallel, my heart maintains a strong steady beat. Where it does not, even my mind fails to function under the weight of thoughts anchored in morbid chaos.

The passing jogger relished the sight. A few young ladies giggled amongst themselves as they made their way towards their dorms. Other than that it was quiet. She, was quiet. Perhaps it was all the blood she couldn't even cough up, her mouth tightly sealed by my right palm. My arm, frankly, beginning to ache. I twisted. I twisted again and I could feel the tears collecting around my thumb, slowly coursing over it. I could almost feel her groans within them.

To the world behind us, she was simply being embraced, admittedly, a little awkwardly. To the sun, well, it wouldn't spare a tear. Or maybe it did, but it was too far gone to see. Too far gone to help as well, if it could.

I used to hate ants. Killed any whenever possible. I hated anything that crawled really. One made its way into my bathroom once. Tried sprinkling it down the drain but it held on. 'Fuuu,' I sprinkled but for the life of me, it wouldn't let go. Filled up a basin of water and 'tsunami'd' that sucker but it climbed up the drain. 'Why won't you just die!!? You stupid ant?' I grumbled as I threw it into the toilet. I didn't flush. More accurately, I couldn't. Something was clogged, somewhere. 'Fuuu,' I sprinkled, hoping it would drown. After a while, I just couldn't. Watching it swim to the sides trying to grasp onto something, I felt, defeated. Stranger still, I was rooting for it. Well, it died before it could. Disappointing really. Its final flame, burnt out in exhaustion. I didn't have to kill it, but I did. Gave me a thought though. Death, whatever or whoever it was, was the number one player. Rejection didn't matter. He would still embrace you in the end. Your hopes, your dreams, your life and all that there is would be wrapped within his arms and dragged to the ball of the after death.

In one final burst of energy, she rejected this inevitable result, kicking violently, scratching, punching, and searching the grass for a rock or something that would help. I twisted. Seemingly numb to the pain, she resisted, until, she didn't. It wasn't over. She was just burnt out. I felt a song coming on. 'In the hush of evening,' I hummed, 'As shadows still across, my lonely, room, I think, of you.' I think she knew this one. A little more audibly, 'From afar, the music of violence comes softly, through the gloom. All I can do, is think of you.' In a slight daze I whispered, 'Sinatra is remarkable, no?' Nudging her a bit, it became clear, her weight now doubled, she was...

Now staring at the moon.

This was indeed the most bizarre confession I had read in all my thirty years on the force and was undoubtedly, my last one.