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Fleeting Moments

Waking up from the deep sleep, I looked at the Empty bed and wondered if it was just a dream. The wrinkled bed sheet, pillow that seemed lost in the corner of the room and the bed covers seemed to say otherwise. Throwing the bed sheet off, I sat at the edge off the bed at looked out the window. It was a misty morning and the sun was just starting to peek over the horizon. Electricity poles, town lights and small houses started to turn off their lights as the night lowly turned into day.


My body was stiff and muscles sore from the events of last night. Looking over my shoulder, I called Mary out loud yet the empty house just echoed back my inquiring voice. The room was once more as empty as it was the previous day and wondered what happened and what my next course of action will be. Getting out of bed, I walked up to the window and looked out. Even at this early hour, a sea of humanity had started to flow past the window which I am gazing out of.

Breaking my gaze from the lost souls wandering below, I wandered down to the kitchen. The Coffee machine in the corner was happily brewing away a pot of coffee.  I stared at the half filled coffee pot, lost deep in a hypnotic trance, the hiss of steam and the ripples as the drops of coffee fell into the liquid below.  Images of my lost childhood when I was carefree floated in my mind. Time and images slowly floated by and my mind became agitated as I saw my present life unfold before me. Gritting my teeth, I drained the coffee mug, got dressed and stormed out of the house to cleanse my mind of my troubled past. Time flew by and one moment blended into another as I tried to forget my past. Life slowly lost all color and became shades of grey. It was as barren, rocky, desolate windswept plain as my mind and heart had become.

Picking up the phone, I called up John to pick up the art works which had been lying in the attic for what seemed like a lifetime. The guy who had come by to check the paintings had quoted a decent enough price to tempt me to make the call. Time rolled on and the afternoon slowly turned into evening. I found myself at the museum at the newly acquired paintings on display. A tinge of sadness passed over me as I realized the memories came alive as I relived each and every brush stroke.

 As I stared at my most prized painting which was no longer mine, a familiar voice from my past whispered “Mike, I missed you so much. How about a cup of coffee to catch up on the old times?”

The heart seemed to stop for a moment as the throat constricts and I gasp for breath. Silence seemed to stretch into eternity as the floodgates of memories break through the dam I had built. Bitter moments start to pulsate through the veins. I felt like a flotsam caught in a raging river. The clock starts to tick backward reminding me of the events that led to this. Resentment slowly starts to harden the soul. Anger blinds me and colors my world red.

 “Countless years spent together. Yet, trust and a relationship once nurtured with care gone up in smoke in an instant. You know I drew that painting and the subject is you when I first saw you running down the alley after a kite which was floating away. That day I knew you would be mine one day yet never foresaw the day when you would run off with another man. If I only knew that I would find you here, I would not have come here myself.” I mumbled as I quickly walked out of the room and into my car.

In the now empty room, a woman walks up to the painting and looks at it as if for the first time. She glances at it as if she remembers the bygone era. Running down dusty lanes, knocking down bicycles, chasing chickens that were eating grains, running through clothes hanging on clothesline, getting chased by dogs and people while the eyes were glued on a stray kites falling towards the ground. The oil paints had faded as time had taken its toll except for:

Fleeting moments
One caught in time
An image like a shrapnel blast
One that lingers for a lifetime

Pain that stills the heart
Warmth gone
Chill remains
Bitter moments flow thru the veins

which seemed freshly penned. Running down the hallway, she pushes the door open only to see a car leaving the parking lot. Sinking to her knees, memories of a failed marriage, guilt that she just couldn’t shed, bitter words which she promised never to utter, flowed through the tongue flawlessly which had receded into the dim corners of the mind all but forgotten, rushed headlong into her mind. Time passed by as the bright afternoon turned into evening. Leaning her head against the glass door, she felt lonelier than ever. The sound of a matchstick striking against flint and the smell of cigarette smoke snapped her out of the daze she was in. Her eyes widened with fear as she realized that she wasn’t alone in this empty museum as she heard a click of hammer fill her ears. Turning around, she felt a bone crushing pain as darkness enveloped her.


This post first appeared on Whispering Corridor | Reviews | News | Events | De, please read the originial post: here

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Fleeting Moments

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