He rested his forehead against the windowpane as tears began sliding down his face.
The skies opened up, as if in response, and the glass seemed to weep along with him.
Life was something that eluded his understanding for more years than he would care to admit, but now it was all but inescapable to acknowledge. The everyday occurrences that others found pleasure in had rarely to never stood upon his own doorstep, not once taken the time to glance even more than briefly in his general direction. He knew happiness in friends and humorous moments, although his friends seemed fewer in numbers and availability than ever before.
Marriage was something he could never fully grasp the understanding of, beyond the legalities that some would find of use after death that is. Procreation was always a negative in his eyes as too many children currently exist that need love. Love, there it was, or rather wasn’t. This man now desperately seeking a way out of himself and this callously bitter version of a man that he had become had never truly been loved. Yes, he had been in love, yet love is never love all by itself. Reciprocation was never a luxury that his love had seen and so he shut himself off from this seemingly everyday occurrence as well.
If you can imagine a heart wrapped in piano strings that are frayed and barbed, you may have a small understanding of the notes that form the torturous melody he endures.
Wanting to begin life before it ends, such a daunting task lays before him.
He could no longer stand in this world of self-loathing and vile pity; he walked to his bookshelf looking for a distraction and found himself staring at a tome he had no recollection of. A leather bound beauty, it called to him almost as if inside of his mind. He reached out and grasped it in his right hand and felt an immediate tingle run up his spine and stand the hairs on the back of his neck to attention. Uncertain as to what this mystery held between its well aged covers, he brought it with him to his chair by the fire he had forgotten that was almost all but gone out now.
Taking a seat, and resting with a sigh, he began to slowly open the curiosity that was lying on his lap. The cover opened slowly with a mild cracking noise, he could hear a gentle rustling of wind almost dancing within the room and suddenly the dead embers came to roaring life in the fireplace.
He became so startled by this that he jumped to his feet, throwing the book from his lap to the floor where it lay open. As he walked over to examine the incredible fire that now warmed everything with such ferocity he heard a slight sound, as if pages were turning behind him. He looked back to see what was happening and a hand began to reach out from the book, and soon another. Too shocked to move or do much of anything he stood with mouth agape as a beautiful form made its way from the written pages of this unusual book. She stood naked before him, smiling and gently laughing.
He found his voice, albeit not sounding much like he remembered it. “Who are you? And How did you…where did you…” At this she held up her hand and spoke. “I am all that you seek, desire and have been long in waiting for.” And with that she began to walk to him and embrace him. Unsure how to react he resisted and moved aside.
“Why is it that you can not hold me? Have you not wanted this very thing?” she asked with a hurt expression upon her face. “Is it not the love of a woman that your heart has so loudly cried out for?”
He took her hand in his and looked into her eyes “I have no other desire than to be loved, but my dear…woman…I have no idea what is happening, or how any of this could possibly be!”
She let go of his hand and walked over and picked up the book that she had materialized from only moments ago. She began leafing through the pages and pointing at each one. “This book came to existence through your own living. This book is written by each action or inaction you take. Each desire, each success, failure or anything you have done is here. This is the book of YOU. This book has come into existence, because you have been writing it.” She rests the open book on the chair beside the fire.
“How can any of this be possible…I …” looking for the words she continues in his stead. “Each breath you take authors another moment upon the pages of this book. All of the things you even wish you had done are in there too…I come from that very place, a place of deepest longing and desire for change.” With that she smiles again and steps closer. “All you need do is embrace me and never shall you be alone again.” She opens her arms wide. He starts to walk towards her, and then stops for a moment.
“What is it?” she asks.
He looks towards the book and then to her. “I am not sure that I want a woman of my own design. I want a woman that is born, not created. If she is everything that I want her to be simply because I have desired it, then that is no real love. It is not REAL anything!”
He quickly walks to the book and slams it shut. The fire is gone. She is no more. He is left standing in the now cold room.
He walks back over to the window, places his hands upon it and rests his forehead once again.
The rain pours down.
-j.g.smith (08/08/09)
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