| [the writer] SoulMates continued.. |
| It was past midnight but there she was. Emily, alone in the wilderness that was Hyde Park. She saw the branches of leaveless trees swayed violently in the wind. As if rebelling against the plight of fallen leaves, being swept further and further away from their homes. Frost was having a field day biting on her face. She knew this because she felt her face raw, her nose reddenned and runny. But she could not care less. This was now her place of solitude and reflection. Not even tempestous nature could drive her away. But for almost a year, she could not step foot into this place. A place she had intentionally forgotten to remember eversince that fateful winter night. Grievance seeped into her conciousness. This particular spot, under this sturdy tree, was where Ethan and her have had their numerous summer lunches and picnics. Ethan with his basket full of 'home made' goodies, which Emily knew was actually prepared by Waitrose. This she was certain because Emily, herself, was a fan of the supermarket's ready made gourmet section. She laughed to herself loudly. Trying to make herself heard. But her voice was drowned out by the howling sirens of the winds. It was weird how often she thought of Ethan lately. Somehow the appearance of James into her life had acted as an invitation, a floodgate for past memories of Ethan. Repressed memeories that she had hidden in the back of her mind and labelled, 'Most Painful'. James had also brought to her a new meaning to the term 'living'. A queer concept for someone, whose soul was dead. But in the past three weeks that she had spent with him, James had made her see things she had forgotten to see. She guessed James was good at that. He was an artist afterall. James had opened up her eyes to the beauteous wonders of nature, even when it was dark and grey. He had shown her how she could find colours in bleak darkness. How she could find meanings in an otherwise vacant subjects. And that was why she was here. She sought for some colours and meanings. 'I'm glad you are back, Angel..' That voice. The voice she thought she would never hear again. |
| Page Created by Sherina Zain. Copyright. All rights reserved. 2001. |
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| Elle, let me read other short stories.. |