It was late when he decided to call it a night. Thunder outside drove him mad. To him, it was like the end of the world. He decided to hide, to run away from that irritating feeling. Tucking himself in his bed was the most treasured thing he ever did. He is safe now, shielded and armed with wool covers. The heart is sheltered with peace. The clock is ticking, but sleep was away for this night. He had feelings to spill, and so, he grabbed his papers and the pen resting on them and triggered his mind for writing. Where did all the ideas go? They were buzzing all over his head. Did they hide? Did they leave? Or simply, they died? There weren’t any urge in him to dig them out, so he surrendered his papers to their prior refuge. What is wrong with him tonight? He wondered. This is emptiness in him, and he didnt have any ideas to write, so he decided to read.
As people scream out their true nature, his books did the same. They were his loyal companions. What he didn’t know, was that his night was a very important phase in his life. It is the night where his life will change forever.
He couldn’t read, the pages were blank to his eyes. Despair claimed authority of his heart, and his life rolled like a short movie in his head. “When will this still life end”? That’s it! The end. The end is what only matters now. He bumped out of his bed, opened the door of his balcony, climbed the iron fence surrounding it, spread his hands in the air, and got ready to jump.
His legs mesmerized in their place, his heart thundered faster than raindrops and louder than the noise around, but the raindrops were magical. They washed despair out of his system. He felt confused, betrayed and peaceful. Confused by joy, betrayed by emptiness, and peaceful by embracing hope that will lead him to a life where ambitions floated all over. He must be a different person now, he must make a difference. If it wasn’t for the world, it would be for his little lame life…
Whispers were her only friend. Whispers came to her every time she slept, begging her to wake up. Whispers came to her every time she woke up, pushed her out of bed. Whispers came to her every time she got up, driving her blindly to the window. Whispers were her only friend. Whispers only came to her, and only she obeyed them. She never understood the reasons that dragged her to the window. To stand still, contemplate the outside, focus on that window in the house facing hers.
That window was the center of her attention. The center of her attraction. The shelter of her buzzing thoughts. And, the destiny of her traveling sight. Away from that window, loneliness manipulated her, drove her back to stand still and contemplate that window. It was the feeling of someone on the other side, standing still, contemplating her window. It was the feeling of someone on the other side that mesmerized her thoughts, her feelings, and her heart.
No… No, no… It was not the window. It was that dark slide that captured her breaths. Hope lied there. Hope hid there. She was never lonely while invading that darkness with her eyes. It was hope that gave strength to her perishing heart. That slightly open window was the reason of her survival. One day, the last piece of her puzzled heart will take its place. Whoever was there, whoever hid behind that darkness was the reason of her whispers, the reason of her circulated life, and the reason of her moments going by.
She must not surrender. She must not let desperation grow in her heart. She must not strangle her life with a rope, connecting her to that window, to that darkness, and maybe to that fading away hope. And she must not… fade away.