Penning it

Her dark brown ball of fur (Amy) curled up purring in her favorite chair stuffed with the comforting soft cream-colored cushions. The occasional crackling of the wood in the fireplace adding rhythm to her intermitted sighs. Just like Amy, she was snuggled in a thick warm blanket. Her feet wrapped in socks as thick as Amy’s fur sneaking out of the cover, glowed like beacons of hope when surrender and peace was the order of the season outside her window. My scribbling continued and stopped and faded and was re-written over on the same scroll. Some reminiscent stories making their way out of her heart, musing, rarely of ‘what-is’ rather ‘what-could-have-been’ and ‘what-should-have-been’ and some more. She tossed on the sofa, stuffing her face in its arms and letting her guards down and confining in it her most-secret wish. And once she did, she shot up, nakedly aware of it, and scratched it out vigorously from me.

Hey there,

This is D. I just felt like publishing myself out for you guys. That above was a little sample of my work. No, I’m not looking for work, lol. But ‘why’ is a question I too have pondered upon a couple of times, and

And tbh, I don’t know, I’m just letting it out for anyone who can or does relate to it and does feels understood and a little less tiny.. so yeah that is it.

Hey there,

(6 months later..)

That loop, was defining the winter this year. While I enjoyed discerning the world outside, pretty and decked-up in white, yet anytime I had to look inside, oh the mess! Every time she sets herself free from it, I’d see her grow, I’d see those cracks filling up with gold, I’d see the beautiful pattern traced, I’d see how unique she is but she won’t. You’d notice some pages missing from me too. You’d notice the torn out pages leaving a hollow depression, making the bind wobbly, you’d notice the uneven traces as sharp as knives of the left over pieces still glued, and if you’d look closer you’d notice some stories traced in the chapters next to come and yet to be written. But would she let you? Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had readers. I’ve had hurried glances passing me through, I’ve had regular readers, I’ve had readers only interested in excerpts, I’ve had readers becoming chapters, and readers who got lost in one paragraphs. Are you special?

….. He walked in with blue sneakers and black hoodie, glancing over the ‘Best-sellers’, almost like taking a note of what was in fashion. He moved across the aisle, his eyes searching for something, knowing exactly what they were looking for. But his walk was equally uncertain. I noticed (she noticed) him curiously. That bundle of pages over him had had some wear and tear, but somehow pulled me towards it magnetically. Their eyes met and lingered a moment too long. And thus, began the next chapter.

I had been fully prepared waiting for this to happen, Oh I’m so excited. I am writing in the best of my fonts, there are poems, there are quotes, oh it is all italics. And despite the best of my preparation I’m glancing over in his and soon our inks are blending, and soon the stories are merging and soon it is both exactly the same. He keeps asking after and re-reading old chapters to understand her better. And she keeps scribbling side notes as they make picnic plans in the future. This is probably the best of my works so far, I’m describing the roses, the wind on her face, the flicker of the leaves, the brightness of the moon, the chirping of a cuckoo, the lights and snow and everything. And it is all about only her and him.

Hey there,

(2 years later..)

It is getting lengthier, and it is fading a bit. I don’t understand, I used the best of the ink. I hope it is a good kind of fade.

But this was strange, he’s hiding his quill. I can’t see what’s being written. Could be a phase, right? A little concerning though.

Wait what she’s hiding me too now. Wait my exclamations are changing to question marks. What is happening here? I’m writing in bold and capitals and ouch it is hurting!

Please don’t, just don’t do this. Just flip back and read me. Please? Remember why it all started? You can fix this come out. Flip me back both of you!

No don’t tear me down! Don’t you dare! You can’t do this! Those are the best of your memories! You can’t tear them out! Wait okay? Just read them out once. Please? Oh please don’t.

AAAA….

Hey there,

(1 year later..)

How are ya?

Naah she ain’t fine. All my scribbling are just melancholic versions of songs with no music. Yeah she saw him yesterday, he had those pages. He brought the glue and everything, but she just won’t let him fix me..

Me? I’m fine.  Amy passed away.

Yeah I look weaker I know. Obviously and all these writings are dripped in tear and it makes my core weaker you see. But endurance is the way through, right?

Hey there,

(50 years later...)

Long time huh?

Ever since she put back all those pages she tore and finally accepted her for her. Oh, didn’t I tell you?

It has been such a ride and I’ve been super busy. I’m sure I killed myself a time or two.

Wow. I’ve turned into a real classic. Huh.

So old, honestly my bones ache. She’s scribbled so much over it. But what a life!

Not to brag but don’t I look ravishing in this new hardbound avatar! Oh and this smell we called “the old book smell”, turns out is the hard-earned smell of belongingness and ripe age and stories. Suits me well, doesn’t it?

Borrow a chapter or two if you will 😊