Alone-liness, you funny little feeling

I miss you when I’m sad, I do;

          The world it seems too empty.

Not nearly enough words to say, 

          And no one to say them to me.

The loneliness when I’m sad, 

          Yes, it does hurt.

But somehow when I’m happy,

           It’s far, far worse.

Belief

She walked across the fields towards the forest, covering the distance in long, powerful strides. The sunlight hit her eyes, reflecting off her sword as she tilted it- first left and then right. Hexicor always said that the best thing about her swordsmanship was in the way she let her grip flow easily from one style to another. She loved the way her fingers would assume a familiar grip, and then slip into another, along the worn out grooves of her sword’s hilt. Those grooves came from years and years of practice in the forest at the crack of dawn, practices on the riverside with Kina and Gioman, sunset practices with Dad and midnight walks with Hex, just holding swords for comfort.

She took her stance and a deep breath and began. Step, turn, cut. Step, cut, cut. She danced in and out, weaving her body through the blades of the Shadows. The Shadows came from deep within The Belief and she was lucky to be able to call them to practice with. The beings of darkness were always one step ahead of her, dancing out of her reach, moving their blades one second quicker and tiring her with every move. She felt herself stumble as two Shadows came at her together. In one split second, she was on the floor of forest, dry leaves crunching beneath her weight, her fluid grip failing her as she struggled to grab hold of her sword. The first Shadow raised his sword in a motion to slice her neck and as the sword hissed through the air, frustration overtook her. “Enough. Enough now. I have learnt and I know what I must correct.” The Shadows instantly melted.

She scrambled to her feet, still frustrated as she looked for her sword among the leaves. As much as she loved Gioman and the sword he had gifted her years ago, she couldn’t help but feel that on this morning, it was the blade’s fault. Her sword usually kept a good connection with The Belief. The Belief, from where all the magic of the Earth arose, held every Knight to his sword and to his purpose ‘til sword and knight were almost one. But today her sword was sluggish, reluctant to follow her command.

“Stop scowling at that beautiful sword, you arrogant knight.”

She looked up to see Hexicor grinning at her and grinned back.

“How long were you watching?”

“Long enough,” he paused “to know that it wasn’t the sword’s fault. You weren't concentrating, most of your Belief was used up in calling the Shadows.”

“I don’t know Hex..." she began softly. "Lately, it seems like that’s the hardest part for me. Convincing myself that I need the Shadows; that I need to practice; that it’s all worthwhile; that when the Evil comes, we need to be different from them." She looked into his deep brown eyes, knowing that he was the one person who wouldn’t judge her this statement of hers. He wouldn’t hate her because she was having crazy thoughts that could change everything in the blink of an eye.

He took a step closer to her, his brow crinkling in worry. “Maybe you should just take a break for a couple of days.” She smiled at his worry, but mostly at the adorable crinkle above the ridge of his nose. 

“That’s not going to help. Last night, I could barely call a fire to boil water. That hardly takes any Belief and I couldn't even manage that. It made Kina so angry. If I start talking about a break, she’d just lose it.”, she finished with a sigh.

He thought for a moment, and then smiled warmly. “You know what, don’t think about it. It’ll be alright. Enough practice now. Come, I’ll walk you home.” 

She liked the way his arm felt around her shoulder, heavy and yet so comfortable. She sneaked a glance into his eyes and for the thousandth time marveled at their perfectly marbled brown. He caught her gaze and smiled. He stopped walking and slowly turned to face her. “By home, I mean I’ll drop you far enough away from your house so that your father doesn't see me and drive me away again.”

She laughed and tilted her face to look him square in the eye, “He doesn't mean any harm, he just needs some time to trust you. You know knights are.”

“You know, I understand what you were saying back there. Sometimes I think about what it would be like, if we didn’t have this life”, he began slowly. “Don’t you?”

She let the weight of what he said sink into her. “What are you saying Hex?”

“If we didn’t have to do any of it, if we weren’t part of the Knightsclan, we could lead normal lives. We wouldn’t have to live in fear.” He paused. “Or hatred.” His voice suddenly seemed deadly cold to her.

She couldn’t meet his eyes, “But the Evil? Who would stand up to them when they come? We are the wall Hex, we are the only ones. That is our purpose. That is our Belief as it has been for ages and ages. Without it, we are nothing.”

“Magic can be bent, my sweet. It listens to those who speak.” He slowly took her hand and she felt her skin tingle where he touched her, her mind slowly going blank, as if he were pouring water on a slate. “We could be together, in a way we can never be now.” He voice grew soft and she felt herself go oblivious to everything except his gaze on her. “And I know more than anything that I want to be with you.”

He meant it. Of course he did. Her thoughts spun with everything she had just heard Hexicor say, she had to close her eyes to keep from falling down. She pictured a life with Hex, her mind feeling light at the thought of how simple that life could be. She felt her Belief drop away from her, her mind feeling lighter, almost making her giddy.

She opened her eyes and took a step towards Hex, reaching towards him with a smile when suddenly, she stopped short. His face darkened, his brown eyes began to morph into an inky black. His features twisted and she gasped as she recognised the Evil. She stumbled backwards, for the second time that morning and frantically searched the ground for her sword. She struggled to grab onto any last thread of Belief in her mind, willing the magic to flow through her again. He held out his hands to her and in them lay her sword, glinting in the sun as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening. She flung out her hand, more out of reflex than anything else, reaching for the familiar hilt, itching for the grooves she knew so well, just as his shrill laughter hit her and her sword began to melt away. She watched helpless and horrified, tears filling her eyes, only now fully realising what she had done.

“The tears will be gone soon, sweetling. You will slip into the oblivion that is the ordinary. Your precious purpose will not even be a memory.” he said as he slowly lay his cheek against hers. He whispered in her ear, “Tell me that all the Knightsclan’s Belief will be this easy to destroy.”

She wanted to tell him that it wouldn’t and that he would not succeed, but couldn’t find it in her to feel what she had to say. She could hardly see through the tears in her eyes and slowly, everything began to fade away.

*** 

A shepherd girl walked out of her house and towards the forest at the end of the fields. She liked to listen to the crunch of the dry leaves beneath her feet and the smell of the fresh sprigs in the morning as she looked over the land. The dark of Evil was stretched across the sky, exactly as it had been since she could remember, blocking any sunlight. As she looked upwards, wondering in fear what the day would bring, she felt again, as she had felt so many times before, a strange emptiness. 

A strong breeze whipped around her as if wanting to knock the smooth wooden staff out of her hand and replace it with something else. She almost thought she felt a shiver run across her arms, a whisper of a memory she did not understand. Then the shepherdess at the edge of the field gripped her staff tighter and turned to walk back home. It was time to feed the sheep.

[This is a story that I wrote a couple of years ago. I pulled it up and just tweaked it a little for now. It began as a random thought; wondering what it would be like if your entire world was built on belief in something - in this case, in yourself, in your purpose. I don't know that 'sword-fighting fantasy' is my forte, but it seemed like a good locale to build a story like this in. Cheers.]

The Infectious Sort of Happiness

The wind and I walked home from work yesterday under a perfect pre-dusk sky.

He whistled happily at the blues and purples and oranges painted above our heads, keeping time with my walk. And as we walked, he pointed things out to me - a baby bird that was learning to fly, a dragonfly couple locked in dance and lone flower growing amidst a bed of dry grass. We smiled silently at each other as we noticed a cloud shaped like a neuron.

Half way through the field of grass we were crossing, he paused. My feet stopped dead and my eyebrows furrowed at how quiet it seemed without his happy whispering in my ear. The very next moment, I heard a wonderful rustling from above my head.

A grin spread across my face as he began to sing me a beautiful song, running trills over the leaves of the tree. He swooshed over the expanse of grass, rippling it in harmony. I watched the green and yellow hues play on the field as he ran through it, singing so loudly that I was almost knocked over with the force of it.

There's no happiness more infectious than the happiness of the wind, I suddenly thought to myself, smiling appreciatively at the world. As the tune drew to a close, he slipped his hand in mine and I felt my steps spin into a twirl. And another, and again after that until I had to catch my breath.

Yesterday the wind stepped out of the sky and walked me home - swishing, humming and telling me things; under a painted sky that beamed companionably down on our giddy, happy souls.

[While I will admit that this is a little insane, even for me, I assure you there's no need to have me committed yet.]

Rooftop

If I found the roof of the world, would you sit with me on the ledge?

If I sat looking at the lights of the world, swinging my legs over that edge;

Brimming with happiness, grinning at the world from that high up

Would you understand with a smile; would you even show up?

Say I did find the roof of the world, and I stood there

Hands outstretched, eyes closed, wind whipping my hair;

Say I stood smiling at the million beating hearts beneath

Would you feel the magic, forget all else and stand with me?

Perhaps you couldn’t possibly understand, perhaps it isn’t who you are

Perhaps you and I are notes from different strings on the Maker’s guitar.

Perhaps you find your peace elsewhere, in someone or something

That’s why to you I seem crazy when I say this rooftop makes my heart sing.

Bubble

[This was written on hot summer's day in May '08 :) ]

Two men caught my eye today. They were sitting in the shade in front of a random shop, totally oblivious to the heat that was scorching the ground two feet away from them. A broken wooden stool and a large stone were veritable thrones and a low cracked table lay magnificently between them. But what made me smile was the pack of cards that lay strewn on the table – they looked like the oldest deck I had ever seen, it was a miracle that they could be read at all. They sat in two beautiful fans in the hands of those kings, their backs worn out just at the places where fingers touched them, probably where fingers had been touching them for many years. 

I loved the picture they painted for me. I loved the way that the sunlight caught in the silver of the old man’s hair, giving him a clear halo. I just had to grin when I saw the younger man, perhaps his son, bite his lip in concentration as he peered at the hand he was dealt. I liked the sound that the cards made as they were flicked across the table, one by one; the swish as the card sailed and the soft, almost inaudible smaller swish as it landed. Every so often, the two would look up from their cards and catch each other’s eye – sometimes smiling, sometimes glaring in triumph, sometimes teasing, sometimes just looking, sharing the companionship in silence. 

The air around them seemed to be so calm and peaceful, and in such contrast with everything else around them that it felt like the scene was a bubble. They were so removed from the heat and sweaty grime, the hurried pace of people around them, the noises of a TV in the background and someone yelling for a ‘beedi’ – all of it. It was like I was looking at this bubble of simple happiness, that had just landed there is some cosmic twist of time and space. 

Of course after a while, the older man caught me staring at them. I wanted to look away because there was no way to explain to him what I had been looking at without having him doubt my sanity but somehow, I couldn’t. Our gazes met steady and he must’ve understood some of what I was feeling or felt the magic of the moment too because he gave me a knowing smile and said “Kheloge?” My face broke into the biggest grin it has seen in a long time and before long the three of us were like three simpleton idiots, smiling at each other in the middle of a street. The bubble now held three.

As I walked away and reached the bend in the road, I turned around. I could still see the halo of sunlight over his head.