It had been six months and that book was still sitting on the bedside table. Chapter three - the tale was just picking up pace, but the reading was not. He’d been stuck on that chapter for nearly four months. Every time he went to bed, his mind would brim over with thoughts; random thoughts, vague thoughts, painful thoughts – the book just took a back seat. He’d finish a few pages, forget about the book and by the time he got back to it, he’d forget the story and would have to read it all over again. After the fifth time, he was yet to pick it up once more.
He spoke to his mother for a while; there wasn’t much to talk about. Soon, she went back to doing the one thing she did now-a-days – sleeping. He restarted the movie.
He loved movies. Has quite a passion for them when you think about it. This one was particularly good – a classic from the 50’s, one he’d been meaning to watch for a while now. Instead, he filled his time with ritualistic hobbies like painting. He liked to paint but he didn’t paint now because he liked to, he did because he needed to; he didn’t know what else to do. Finally, when even painting couldn’t occupy the time any longer, he took out the DVD and started watching the movie.
He was enjoying it but, not the way he used to. It was snowing in the movie, Christmas was round the corner. ‘It would never be the same again’, he thought. ‘We’d still have the lights, the food, the cake, the wine and of course, the people but, he wouldn’t be there.’ So, he didn’t want to be there. He thought of running away once, yes. He didn’t know where he’d go but the thought did cross his mind. But, he was rational; he has family he can’t abandon. A very large family – still. And so many friends, more now than ever. They all wanted to talk, to get him to talk – talk about what happened, talk about his feelings…talk about the future. But he didn’t want to talk to anyone - not when he could barely talk to himself.
Suddenly, the power went out. All the lights, fans, the computer, the TV’s – all the noises went off. He got up off the chair and moved about the house a few paces. He heard his sister’s voice from another room, “Oi, if you just close the windows, I’ll light some candles” So, automatically his feet moved towards the bed in front of the window. His feet moved with direction but his mind felt aimless. ‘Aimless. The story of my life’, he thought. It hadn’t always been like that but he didn’t go into the details. He had to fold one leg up on the bed and sit in order to reach the window. A cool breeze erupted from the open window and he put up his other leg and made himself comfortable. It washed his face - washed it of sorrow. The breeze became wind. He sat there speechless, feeling alive again for the first time in a long time.
He finally replied, “Forget it. Don’t bother!” “Yeah, bet the electricity will be back any moment anyway”, said the voice of his sister from a distance. ‘I hope not’, he thought. He felt cleansed, it was a beautiful feeling. He felt like if he just sat here long enough, all his pain would vanish, the loss wouldn’t prick as much, like his passion would return…and perhaps his life too. Even if the electricity came back, he decided to put off all the lights and continue sitting there, all alone with nothing but his thoughts. All he had to do was face them and they’d leave.
Today was the day. His spear and sword were sharp as they could be and he was all dressed in his armour and helmet. He could hear the crowd roaring in the arena and he stood in the dark waiting to enter. His knees were shaking but he stood his ground. His armour felt heavy and the hungry lions outside waited impatiently. He was ready.
But, just then, as though mocking him, the fans, TV’s, the computer, the lights and the noises came back on. He heard his sister sigh with relief. He had a plan and for a moment he looked like he might just go through with it. For a moment, he thought he would. But, then he realized, even through the pain that the realization brought, that he wouldn’t. The gladiator turned away from the lions, the crowd, the arena, their noises and his thoughts and right there in the darkness began to walk away from what he knew he could face. As he thought this, a teardrop rolled down his cheek. For a moment you could see a flash of his true self, his happy self, one that’s not crumbling under the pain of losing a father. But, it was merely a glimpse and it disappeared with no one to chase after.
So, he took a deep breath, wiped his eye and restarted his movie.
The book was still sitting, waiting on the bedside table and there was hope, but, it would just have to wait a while longer.
He spoke to his mother for a while; there wasn’t much to talk about. Soon, she went back to doing the one thing she did now-a-days – sleeping. He restarted the movie.
He loved movies. Has quite a passion for them when you think about it. This one was particularly good – a classic from the 50’s, one he’d been meaning to watch for a while now. Instead, he filled his time with ritualistic hobbies like painting. He liked to paint but he didn’t paint now because he liked to, he did because he needed to; he didn’t know what else to do. Finally, when even painting couldn’t occupy the time any longer, he took out the DVD and started watching the movie.
He was enjoying it but, not the way he used to. It was snowing in the movie, Christmas was round the corner. ‘It would never be the same again’, he thought. ‘We’d still have the lights, the food, the cake, the wine and of course, the people but, he wouldn’t be there.’ So, he didn’t want to be there. He thought of running away once, yes. He didn’t know where he’d go but the thought did cross his mind. But, he was rational; he has family he can’t abandon. A very large family – still. And so many friends, more now than ever. They all wanted to talk, to get him to talk – talk about what happened, talk about his feelings…talk about the future. But he didn’t want to talk to anyone - not when he could barely talk to himself.
Suddenly, the power went out. All the lights, fans, the computer, the TV’s – all the noises went off. He got up off the chair and moved about the house a few paces. He heard his sister’s voice from another room, “Oi, if you just close the windows, I’ll light some candles” So, automatically his feet moved towards the bed in front of the window. His feet moved with direction but his mind felt aimless. ‘Aimless. The story of my life’, he thought. It hadn’t always been like that but he didn’t go into the details. He had to fold one leg up on the bed and sit in order to reach the window. A cool breeze erupted from the open window and he put up his other leg and made himself comfortable. It washed his face - washed it of sorrow. The breeze became wind. He sat there speechless, feeling alive again for the first time in a long time.
He finally replied, “Forget it. Don’t bother!” “Yeah, bet the electricity will be back any moment anyway”, said the voice of his sister from a distance. ‘I hope not’, he thought. He felt cleansed, it was a beautiful feeling. He felt like if he just sat here long enough, all his pain would vanish, the loss wouldn’t prick as much, like his passion would return…and perhaps his life too. Even if the electricity came back, he decided to put off all the lights and continue sitting there, all alone with nothing but his thoughts. All he had to do was face them and they’d leave.
Today was the day. His spear and sword were sharp as they could be and he was all dressed in his armour and helmet. He could hear the crowd roaring in the arena and he stood in the dark waiting to enter. His knees were shaking but he stood his ground. His armour felt heavy and the hungry lions outside waited impatiently. He was ready.
But, just then, as though mocking him, the fans, TV’s, the computer, the lights and the noises came back on. He heard his sister sigh with relief. He had a plan and for a moment he looked like he might just go through with it. For a moment, he thought he would. But, then he realized, even through the pain that the realization brought, that he wouldn’t. The gladiator turned away from the lions, the crowd, the arena, their noises and his thoughts and right there in the darkness began to walk away from what he knew he could face. As he thought this, a teardrop rolled down his cheek. For a moment you could see a flash of his true self, his happy self, one that’s not crumbling under the pain of losing a father. But, it was merely a glimpse and it disappeared with no one to chase after.
The book was still sitting, waiting on the bedside table and there was hope, but, it would just have to wait a while longer.
