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…”