Random piece of mind

Ok... I wrote this about 3 years ago.. or more.... Only now have I stumbled upon it and i thought it would be ok to post it. Enjoy!

What am I thinking about? Hmmm what is actually love? Can you define it through a perfectly logical and coherent sentence? I don’t think so... then there rises the next question: ''How can we really define love?''.

          There are moments when you smile with apparently no reason… still, that reason is buried somewhere deep in your mind: it is just the thought that you love, only the thought about that person can stretch a little the facial muscles into the expression of a smile, of the melancholy. You see a strip of grass with a tiny dew drop on it.. or you see a deserted bench, or a lonely path... and your mind takes you away, in a somewhat parallel, fantastic world… where you don’t feel the burden of the daily worries as if they were a pointy huge rock in your frail back, a world in which everything melts away, mixing perfectly with your senses, like in a spiral in which apparently the colors mix together at some point and the chaotic lines make you feel dizzy. When people tell you that you look as if you were sleeping or that you are absent minded, then they can never be more wrong, because in that exact moment, in  electrons around the nucleus. The difference is that all your thoughts don’t have a well-shaped meaning, they fly, not having a nucleus and they run away they hide and they let themselves to be seen and they fight.

          Love can also be felt like a very hot drop of the sweetest, sourest and the bitterest beverage in the world, a drop which touches your lips, making them dizzy, it makes the tip of your tongue tremble with excitement, your neck to stiffen, your chest to breathe chaotically, and it reaches your stomach, where it pours a box of butterflies, or any other insects with many legs and much energy, a creature which makes your stomach twitch, it makes it feel an empty spot so pleasant that it might even surprise you. That drop might slip sweetly on your body curves to your knees, which it melts easier than acid melts the matter. The only comparison would be the reciprocal touch of the lips, of the tongue which is trying to explore, pressure which melts anything in its way… matter, reason, reality, words… In its trip on your body, the drop touches unwillingly areas very powerfully crossed by nervous terminations, easy to excite, making it tremble with the slightest touch, making it want a bit more… and more.. and more.. now…

          You can feel on your hand, in your hair, on your clothes and on your chest the aroma of the last kiss… maddening your senses with sweet tempting hallucinations. You can feel it when you sleep, so real that you can hug your pillow being certain that it is him. It is a perfume which dag so deep in your mind and heart memories which keep pouring butterflies in your stomach, a perfume which you cannot easily forget. You can smell it on your fingers, which not long ago clenched in his hair, on his neck, in the attempt to attract him into your kiss like in a spider web… with no way out. You can touch your lips with your pointing finger, trying to feel once again a grain of his kiss… in vain. You suddenly wake up with an acute pain in your lower lip, realizing that it is the very you biting that lip, in the desperate attempt to feel that kiss again. why do you like so much his perfume impregnated on your being? Maybe because it is a proof of reality… a grain of reality which stirs waves and blizzards of thoughts. It is a proof that you were happy, that for a while you mixed the dreamland with the reality, making dreams materialize within a kiss… it is still a perfume which will haunt your nights and that will build a dream for each second of the night and of the mind stray.  Have you ever heard about  synesthesia? It exists in this situation, more vivid than in any poetry… it is the moment when you feel his scent and in the same time you feel a hand on your back, a chest breathing in the same rhythm with yours, you feel your breasts pressed slowly on his chest, and you feel the sweet pressure of his kiss, the lips moving slowly, playing with yours, his tongue slowly and tenderly looking to unite with yours.

          It is strange how some things which seemed so trivial before, now mean so much more for you now. A rusty train rail, which you avoided in the past may become an universe of games and sweet teasing, filled with meaningful looks, and a poor old bridge, deserted, may become the place from where derive your most tempting thoughts, thoughts which make you bite your lips with lust and nostalgia. A very unpleasant image, of a degraded train station that had been wrinkled by time, can become an image which lights up in you a fire able to burn even the last rational bit of your mind, invading it with pictures of few seconds of the past which you want to relive again… and again…

          Why does a song make you think about him, making you want him with every inch of your tiny being? A single sound reminds you of your hand slowly going down his slightly sweaty back, moving in the rhythm of his irregular breath, your fingers sinking their nails into his warm skin, stinging him enough to make him want you more and more, carefully biting your lower lip. His touch on your naked chest can make your body burn in lust, while his hand, gently moving on your spine, could give you shivers. You maybe want this moment never to end, never to escape his touch… yeah… that’d be great…

Chapter 6

Oblivious of all surrounding things, Amy rushed home, as if she participated in a street race. She constantly kept her hand on the purse, somehow protecting the old mirror. The only thing she could protect it from actually was the 21^st century’s reality.

 “I haven’t felt so lively in centuries… it’s like I actually know what I am doing… but I don’t… God, please tell me I’m not mad!”.

Arriving home, she ignored everything, and rushed to her room to take out her new precious possession. It was so beautiful. It was perfect for her room, even though the style was not matching. Amy stared at the mirror for quite a few minutes… nothing happened. But for some reason she still felt really connected to it in some way. That shine… she had known it many years ago. It seems to have had a different reflection. Raising her eyebrow, Amy mumbled: “Ok, maybe I’m just nuts…”, and she grabbed her phone to call her mother, who had announced to come that very evening.

“Beep….beep….beep… Hello, this is Brenda O’Connor, ex Knight. I am unavailable at the moment, so please leave a message after the beep! Beep!”

“Hey, mom! It’s me… I just called to asked if we could delay this visit till tomorrow or something… I feel a bit tired and I really had a long day. I hope you don’t mind.”

Drinking her tea, while still looking at the mirror that was left on the bed, she remembered the strange silhouette she had seen in the morning. Such a strange day! And those dreams she had! Confusion and the sense on randomness of facts were actually making her think that she had lost her sense of reality… So she decided to watch cheap shallow TV programs till she could fall asleep.

Still, any educated mind cannot stand watching TV for more than one hour without getting a headache, so Amy quickly switched to listening to music. She took out all her candles, put three on her desk, three on the upper shelf, and two on the floor. Leaving the window half open, she could enjoy the freezing breeze that fluttered her red curtains. Placing carefully her earphones with some ambiental gothic music, she closed her eyes, enjoying the perfection of feeling. Her whole body trembled with the notes of the songs, while in her brain there was a much more beautiful world than the one she lived in. Physically she was in her soft warm bed, but mentally, she could’ve been anywhere then. Dreaming of medieval whispers and legends, she easily fell into the state of almost sleeping, yet half awake. Her strips of imagination were tangling with the flickering light of the candles…

And they were flickering so vividly… and their light was multiplied by the mirror, which Amy had set on her desk before going to bed. The mirror surface was creating such an amazing show of lights! Her room could be the perfect subject for a painter in that moment: the silver light of the full moon was passing through the red curtains, only to lay on Amy’s smooth white skin. Her left side was embraced by the golden trembling light of the candles, the whole mirage being perfectly pictured in the mirror.

Half dreaming, Amy felt how the soft cold breeze transformed into a more violent wind. It felt like the touch of a dead person… cold and not threatening. With her eyes still shut, she felt the wind on her thighs, freezing her warm skin. Still she pulled away the blanket, leaving her entire body at the mercy of the full moon and the wind’s mercy. Suddenly the cool air started feeling ever colder… and colder. Realizing that something was different, she tried to open her eyes, yet with no success. She felt a close breath by her neck. Her heartbeat increased as she could feel that gentle breath moving slowly to her face. Feeling both scared and safe, Amy couldn’t tell whether it was dream or reality.

“Please, don’t hurt me!”

Being completely paralyzed in the bed, Amy heard by her left ear: “Don’t you really remember me?”. And she felt his death cold hands slowly pressing upon her legs, moving carefully to her thighs and hips.

“No… I… I don’t!”.

“You lie!”, he whispered in a low tone, undoing the buttons of her white nightdress.

Her rationality and ability to think were as paralyzed as her body. The best thing she could do was to surrender. She wanted him. “Even if this is just my dream, even if I didn’t see your face, even if I don’t even know who you are, or what you are, you give me that familiar feeling I had this morning when I saw that steam silhouette.”

“Shhh! Remember me with your senses!”, said he approaching her lips. “Lose yourself to me, and forget about everything for a night”. She felt his lips so dangerously close to hers that she couldn’t help but reach out for them, yet he pulled back started kissing slowly her neck. And then harder, biting it, holding tight her waist. The traces of sooth of her skin were glittering in the moonlight, as her body was struggling naked in the cold embrace of something that she could not understand.

The gothic sounds of music were still ringing faintly in her earphones, while the wind was gently blowing in Amy’s hair. His smooth chest pressed upon Amy’s pale breasts and covering her with his entire being, he asked her “Now do you remember me?”.

As response to her silence, he finally gave in to her invitation to kiss her. Those were the sweetest lips Amy had ever tasted… They even danced perfectly in the same rhythm with her lips, pressing on each other wildly, passionately. His tip of the tongue was slowly playing with hers, licking her craving lips. Her agony of not being able to open her eyes to see him dispersed with the idea that it felt so real…

“One day you will forget what I did to you… or maybe one day you won’t remember this night”, he said. “Unless you try to remember me… unless you want to keep me”.

And the whole weight lifted from her body. Amy opened her eyes, just to see that all her candles had turned into molten wax meanwhile, and that he naked body felt really cold, because of the cold wind that blew through the window. She didn’t turn on the light.

“What was that?”, said Amy looking at the mirror…

Putting her nightdress on, pulling on her blanket, she sank her head in the pillow, crying like she’d never cried before…

Please, listen to these while reading Chapter 6 :D

    

Chapter 5

Opening the door with a disturbing crack, an old bell hanging above the door clang, as it had been doing for so many decades, alarming the owner of the shop about the arrival of new potential customers. An old man, with his back deformed by time and deep wrinkles probably hiding many past stories, came forward from the back room, walking very slowly and carefully. He pointed his watery almost blind grey eyes upon Amy, and when he managed to focus his sight upon her face, he gasped and raised both of his long curly eyebrows:

“Miss Lenora… How...? I don’t even…”, mumbled the old man, swallowing his words.

“Ah, I’m sorry, but I am afraid this is a mistake”, replied Amy, being certain that that senile old man was very confused. “My name is Amelia Knight and I just came in search for a present”.

“My apologies, young lady! I am inclined to believe that your face just reminded me of someone… I am an old man. Sometimes memories or thoughts tend to seem real for my age. Please, take a look around and tell me if you need my aid with anything. Meanwhile I will just try to polish the edges of this fake old trophy”, said the old man, still staring at Amy’s face, while he walked to his working desk.

All this time, knowing she didn’t belong in that conversation, Anna pretended to be studying the old objects, while in fact, she was trying really hard to overhear what they were saying. Continuing to seem interested in the antiquities, she waited for Amy to join her in search for the mysterious gift. Being rather amused than intrigued by the recent event, Amy started investigating every corner of the shop. To a person with a healthy imagination, the place would most probably resemble the magical shops in the movies: the upper shelves were filled with books, that were so rugged that time even erased their titles from their covers, while on the lower shelves, that were easily reachable to the customers, there were places all kinds of old objects, from old pictures, to antique telephones or practical items, such as irons and those sharp blades which were used by barbers. Each item had a story.

“I wish I could hear the story of each item in this store”, Amy whispered so quietly that not even Anna, who was by her side, could possibly hear her. “Where is it hidden? I know there is a reason for which I am here. There is something that should seem familiar to me here. I am not mad! I can’t be! That voice was real!”. She kept repeating this in her mind, giving her patience and strength to keep looking.

Anna gave up trying to understand what was that thing that Amy wanted so much, so she grabbed a photo album, older than her parents, took a sit and enjoyed the pictures, while Amy was still browsing carefully every shelf. A sudden metallic faint sound came from the western corner of the room. In that place there was small beautifully-carved bookcase, under which the carpet looked as if it had something beneath. Checking if the owner of the shop was still absorbed by his work, she quietly removed the hand-made carpet and saw a door so small, that only one hand could fit in there. Surprisingly enough, she noticed that the lock was broken, so she carefully opened the tiny door. Ignoring the thick dust, she deepened her hand in the narrow hole, trying to reach whatever there was hidden there. Touching a cold metallic edge of a thin object, she felt a strong sudden cramp in her whole torso, realizing she had touched that object before. Quickly pulling put the item, she went numb seeing that beautiful old mirror. It was strange how, just touching it, she experienced so many emotions, although practically it was the first time she encountered it. The silver decorations of the round mirror were so carefully made, that Amy realized that it took the hands of an artist to produce such beauty. The bright silver seemed like classy lace, with ornaments of roses, made in blackened silver.

Her reflection was so faithful, yet the mirror seemed to be stuck in a past time. It was like the mirror was supposed and wanted to reflect the world in which it served. It was not fit for this century.

“Anna! Are you done with the album? I think I am done here”, said Amy hastily, grabbing a random old locket from the shelf. She preferred to hide the mirror in her bag, because she was pretty sure that she was not supposed even to find it there. “Look, this locket is pretty nice. I think I’ll get this one. What do you think?”

“I think it’s just an old piece of metal… but if you like it, then buy it!”.

Reaching the old man’s working desk, the girls saw that the old man was not there anymore. They waited for about five minutes, but then Amy decided that she should leave ten dollars on his desk, with a note: “You were away, so I’ll just leave some money for the locket with two cherries on it. Please let me know if you need more money for it. I will come back in a few days.” Leaving the money and the note on the desk, the girls left the store and went back on the narrow grey streets.

“Anna, would you mind if I went home now? I am rather tired and I am planning to start my paper today”

“It’s fine, I’m actually starving anyway. Shall I see you tomorrow at classes?”

“Sure! I guess I’ll be there… if I wake up”, said Amy with a faint sense of humor.

As they went on separate ways to their homes, Amy felt how the mirror had the same memories as the streets and walls that surrounded her had. They were all part of the same past… or madness

“I am not mad…”

Chapter 4

Hours passed in the pleasant company of Anna, who seemed to keep Amy’s mind off everything. “She is so nice, so kind to everyone…”, Amy thought. At the end of the school day, they handed in their essays, and hastily left the building, ignoring the shallow giggles of the popular group of puppets. Arriving at the crossroad that separated the roads to their homes, Anna stopped so suddenly, as if she had hit an invisible wall. With blood rushing to her cheeks, she said:

“Hey, do you even remember when we last went for a stroll? Just you and me.”

Looking confused, Amy replied “Uhm… not quite, to be honest. It’s been a lot of time I guess. Why?”

“Well, I think we should make an exception today from our routine.”, said Anna, while trying to remove her ginger strips of hair from her eyes. “Let’s visit some shops today, let’s have a coffee, or let’s just walk… I miss doing this with you! You seem so far away lately. I mean, you, physically, are here, but I can feel that your mind is way off. Come on, let’s spend some time together and maybe you’ll tell me what’s been bothering you lately.”

After some seconds of awkward silence, Amy nodded her head and agreed to break her routine. Who knows? Maybe she would take her mind off her dreams… and the foggy silhouette she had earlier seen before going to her classes. It seemed like she didn’t have many things to do home anyway.

They walked slowly, visiting all the narrow old streets they could find. While Anna was desperately trying to keep the spirits high, talking continuously about anything, Amy was actually trying to focus on the surroundings. Their color was long faded and those brick walls and stone pavement were hiding a magnificent untold history. How many people had walked that path before… How many had fallen in love there! How many must have died there… If only one could somehow extract the past stories from those walls! If only those bricks and stones could speak, books and movies would be inspired by them! As the lovely ginger was mumbling about the newest movies in the cinema and how they should go there sometime soon, Amy noticed something unusual about those streets. She had seen it so many times before and she knew them better than anything else in that city. Yet this time something was different about them. She silently whispered to Anna, with a noticeable confusion in her voice:

“Anna, would you think that I am crazy if I told you I know these streets?”

“Uhm.. Doh! Of course you know them! We’ve been here hundreds of times!”

“No, but this time it’s different. I… somehow see them and I’m getting weird feeling about them. Just like they are suddenly a part of a very important memory for me… a memory I don’t have… and which hurts. For a moment I saw this street from someone else’s point of view. It seemed to be long ago, when the brick walls were still red. And they even had ivy of them. This pavement, as grey and broken as it is now, it was yellowish, shiny and with no pieces missing. This place inspired hope and happiness. But… never mind me! It must be the effect of the dreams I’ve been having recently. Maybe I dreamed this, and that is why they look like a part of a memory for me. Oh, look there! There’s a nice café! Let’s go there for a bit!”. Still, in her soul, she was certain that the feeling of knowing that place for so long and having powerful memories about it, was not a consequence of her dreams. Yet, seeing Anna’s misunderstanding look, she decided to leave it like this, like a product of her imagination.

So, arriving at the café, Amy ordered another coffee, with a bit of milk and sugar free, while Anna spent quite a lot of time deciding between a Coke and a tea. Choosing the Coke, she looked at Amy and, raising her eyebrow, she said:

“You’re not telling me something. It is clear that you’re trying to look as if you were listening to me, but you’re not. Your lips are smiling, but your eyes are not. For God’s sake, they’re almost crying. Amy, you’re very dear to me! I want to be there for you when you need to talk about anything. So what is it?”

Amy stopped playing with the teaspoon, lighted a cigarette and exhaling the smoke she said:

“I’ll be fine. I’m sorry but I need to know myself what is going on with me. I can’t tell it, if I don’t understand it myself. It’s just that... things have become a little bit… let’s say different. But can we please skip this? I feel quite uncomfortable talking about this. Right now I’m actually rather concerned with our final project. What are you going to write about?”

“Don’t really know… Think I’m going to invent a silly story actually. I don’t remember my dreams”, she replied with a charming honesty.

Then they continued talking for a while about what tasks they had to accomplish till the end of the school year, their plans for the future, bringing back memories from their childhoods. But as Amy was listening to Anna’s story about how she got punished in the 3^rd grade for painting the flowers blue, she heard a low voice whispering by her ear: “the antique stop”. She startled as if she had been burnt with a hot stick, and seeing that there was nobody by her side, whispering such things, she also realized that she was the only one who heard that. There was no point in questioning Anna about the issue. But… that voice sounded so familiar. It was the exact feeling as the one she had regarding the street. It seemed to be again a part of a memory that did not have…

“Anna, could we please pay for our drinks and go?”, said Amy, looking a bit anxious and somehow in a disturbed voice.

“But… why? We haven’t been here too long”

“Uhm, honestly, I want to go to the antique store. I have just remembered that I forgot to buy a present to someone.”, replied Amy, standing up and getting ready to go.

Still a bit confused by the situation, Anna agreed to leave the café and go to the antique store, not being sure yet if to trust Amy’s reason to visit that. After 10 minutes of more like running, than walking, they arrived to their destination, the old, sinister antique shop.

Amy took a deep breath, while her heart started bumping for no reason. That feeling you get when you hear the music change in a movie and you know that something is about to happen…

Chapter 3

There she found herself in a crowded classroom. Spotting an empty seat in the back of the class, she stumbled her way there and finally managed to occupy the perfect seat: in the back of the class with a beautiful view of the outside landscape. The landscape could have been more colorful, but, even as dull as it was… it still kept its charm. It seemed like all her colleagues were a bit too enthusiastic for such a morning.

On her left there was the group of probably future boring teachers. They were always dressed formally, considering themselves so great. Yet, they were nothing more than little girls trying to seem much older than they actually were. This was a pity. They didn’t realize that people have too little time to enjoy youth and the life without many obligations. But Amy knew she would only try in vain to explain that to those early aged girls. 

In the first rows there was the group of fancy mannequins. If anyone wanted to be part of the group, they should necessarily be updated with the latest gossips, trends, not to add the fact that excessive skinniness was a must. Their image was actually sad. They seemed to Amy like some empty shells, that were painted beautifully. Their world was so shallow, that they could not see behind their mirror… or deeper in their mirror. Their judgment was dictated by the headlines in the newspapers, while their choices were not their own. So easily manipulated… so easy fooled by the false glitter of a fabulous world.

Being in that room felt more like being at the theatre. It was all a grotesque show with plastic dolls performing. And those masks were so cheap. Here and there the mascara and lipstick cracked, revealing a dark grey plastic basis, under which was nothing more than emptiness. It was actually funny how you could arrange the dolls, only by their aspect. Yet, they all had one thing in common: the empty inside.

Five minutes later, a childish girl, with a huge jacket and a lilac woolen scarf, joyfully entered the class. It was Anna, her friend. Her frozen rosy lips cracked in a large smile, when seeing Amy:

“Morning, sunshine! How you feelin’ today?”, she asked while unwrapping her scarf from around her neck.

“Mmm, well… Could’ve been better. This is actually making it pretty acceptable, to be honest”, replied Amy, while pointing at her coffee and then taking such a sip of it, as if it were the best taste in the world. “And you? Haven’t seen you so energetic in weeks…”.

“Let’s just say that I had a great time this weekend!”, she said with her brown eyes glowing with joy. “Oh, it seems that the teacher’s here… Couldn’t she possibly have waited just for a little longer?”. Then lowering her voice, she continued “I can’t believe that after such a weekend, I have to come to this class! Why is attendance so mandatory.. I mean.. (“indeed, a great weekend. So many things happened. In my mind only.”), how is this course going to even help us in the future (“if we have any…”). I think we are wasting time here, listening to all this nonsense… (“this is only a part of the price we have to pay for dreaming…”, Amy thought).

It was a free creation class. Indeed, as in any university, anything is served with tons of theory, and neglects your opinions and creativeness, yet this class was about to be the spark for Amy’s fire. Almost two hours passed without actually finding any useful sense in the lecture and yet, Mrs. Matthews, the teacher, decided that a project for the end of the semester would be much more appropriate than an actual exam. The project would be free writing a story, based on dreams.

Then, Amy finally felt like she didn’t dream that much for nothing. It could actually mean, that for once, her fantasy could materialize into something more touchable.

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

How she got to school, she does not yet know… All the way traveled by bus went like speeding meaningless images. The only thing that mattered to her was the heavenly music that kept ringing loudly in her headphones. It sounded so perfect, like all the good energies were concentrated and mixed in those lyrics and notes. Listening to those songs made her feel like she had a part of him in her pocket the whole day. It felt so close…

Everything was so typical on the road from the bus station to school. People were mere marionettes of destiny, underpaid actors in a low quality movie. The decorum was heavily lacking originality… there was half molten snow everywhere that splashed disgustingly with every step one took, poorly drawn gray buildings and a cloned-like society. They were all similar, their foreheads wrinkling at any slight disturbance, all dressed in grey, all bearing a daily sorrow in their eyes. No one was rushing, no one was slowing down either. Their steps kept the same turbulent pace and with every splash the grey snow was slowly turning into dirty muddy water. It’s interesting how the only difference between aged and young people was only the tightness of their clothes and the price of their phones and accessories. The shinier the gadgets and purses were, the duller their spirit felt. Almost like a tired old man’s soul… Everything was so bleak, like in a world of inanimate robots functioning by some premade algorithms. So mechanical, that all sounded like a rusty iron cradle.

Amy was desperately searching for a fracture of life in that grey abyss, but she could only find that comfort in her music. After all, it was the only thing at that moment that could make her heart pump with a bit more energy. It triggered her memory and her dreams. Time froze for her just before entering the noisy cold building. It was the part of the song that meant so much for her… He once told her that what he felt was best expressed in those lyrics. With only her chest moving periodically, just for the sake of breathing, she just stood there with her brain almost exploding. It was overloaded with whispering memories. Where they even real? Didn’t really matter anyway… they seemed real enough to fill her body with drops of life.

The piercing wind was pulling her hair, rushing blood into her pale cheeks, drying her lips. Her hair looked like long tangled stripes of dark satin, so wild in that windy rage. That didn’t really mean anything to Amy. She was frozen in the warm spot of her imagination. It was like a spark of joy. Her big blue eyes smiled as if she saw him for real there. As if he would approach her and overcome the limits of her mind. His image was starting to develop steam edges, pale hints of his appearance.

Yet the wind blew his vapors away, together with her smiling eyes. It was time to come back to reality once again. Amy followed the example of all the other students, and obediently went to her class, still with her thoughts hanging to those vapors in the wind. And she was alone…

Golden Forest

So, obviously, during the exam session, when i should be studying, creativity strikes in... and i did this yesterday. I hope you like it.