Night is wise. From its silences sprout echoes in which restless musings find home. Where answers are found to problems shoved under the rug by the day's narcissistic hands. And inside which the world elopes through a starry tunnel of twirling memories, like autumn leaves kiss yellow forest beds – one by one.
He leaned against the rail, reading memoirs of sea like a devoted disciple of a December night, preserving the crash of clueless waves against helpless rocks in his mind. Rose fragrances trapped in chilly sea breeze tugged at a past, writhing in his head like sepia memories uncomfortably familiar. Nature, he thought, is a time capsule. When it speaks through the rustling of cedar branches, in the quietness filling violet landscape, reflected in shallow pools or through the spectacle of an awaited meteor shower, time stands still for a moment, the might of which would put eternity to shame.
Curious how sea waves would try to race against swift clouds, he wondered, only to be pulled back to their core by the unrelenting sea. Why is it that...
“What are you doing here all alone”, a voice shook him out of the trance. The man's ship of thoughts returned to a more human reality. He did not turn around to meet the eyes of this familiar girl.
“Music changed. Couldn't keep up with the rhythm.”
She walked upto the steps leading to rail on the balcony overlooking a tumbling cobalt Mediterranean. Proximity to her fragrance ate up into the refurbished armour of solitude he had cocooned himself in. Alas, nature unfolded itself in a feminine form when symphonies of all phenomenon reached a crescendo.
“It's chilly here. You should get inside.”
“No. I'm warm from the dance”, she replied leaning on the cold rail and grabbed it in her hands like a rudder-steer.
With eyes closed, girl turned her face upto the sky; a smile appeared on her small lips as moistness of a majestic sea breeze filled her senses. Underneath the stars, her skin glistened under reckless moonbeams accentuating each curve of her petite frame. He turned his audacious gaze to the girl, splendidly dressed in a maroon ball-room gown, beholding the sight of her visage as if etching it in memory. Painting her rose fragrance on shadow fountains this sparsely clouded sky makes on her gleaming skin, with whirls losing their way in maze of her hair, her sweetest breath swallowing his soul with blossoms of madness, he wished to keep it frozen in the cardiac cage for posterity. Perhaps it was smoke all around or everything else turned to static background noise, except her. She was gravity.
“He dances well. You both do I mean”, he said facing the sea again. He could bear this sight more easily.
“Doesn't the moon look beautiful tonight?”, the girl breathed in dreamily.
“And like all beautiful ladies, she must not be left unescorted”, replied the man .
She looked at him, trying to underline traces of emotion on his poker face. “Why're you so...”
“Not so much as you.”
Looking at her in eye for the first time, he added, “They'll announce dinner soon. I'll join in five”.
“Alright”, was her reply followed by a laboured smile as she walked back towards the grand ballroom. As the girl was about to reach the glass door, something halted her in the step and she turned around. An old memory.
“Hey, if you see a falling star, can you make a wish for me?”
Her demand was met with the slightest of nods before the man found himself lost again.
Maybe eons passed that night, after sound of her steps faded away into hums of soft music. Or maybe it felt so. But, he did not let a bead of moisture escape his eye once it begged to fall out. It did not deserve to be wished upon.
Ball-room. First attempt at a short story.