Wednesday, August 02, 2006
story: tempest of love and time
This is the story I submitted to the MPH story-writing competition. Fingers crossed--I'll win. :-)
Tempest of Love and Time
He drifts around lazily, unconcernedly. Looking up at the sky, he sees that it is not actually blue, like what the adults have always been telling him. It's really different shades of gray, shades of a maximum-security steel prison. It looks as if it will rain. But he isn't in the mood for rain. Taking the small round clock at his side, he shifts the hands forward, and then puts it down. The sky is now the perfect color of blue, often pictured in children's storybooks.
A memory flies through his mind; he is a small boy, standing up in the bus, getting ready to alight. While the bus is still moving, a bunch of boys push him roughly from the back. He grabs the metal bars on the side, just in time, and turns back to look at his aggressors. They glare back with scorn and arrogance, their cowardly hearts buried in bulks of mass and muscle. From that day on, he began taking karate classes.
Even though he could protect his physical body, he had not been able to protect his heart. The memories come rushing in a flood, an unstoppable torrent. He has grown up and found his first love, like the full bloom of a red rose. However, even the silkiness of the petals could not cover over the pricks from its thorns. He remembers the hurt that rent and lacerated his heart, caused by a single mortal.
They had been lovers. She was the one Marc really loved; after countless girls who only received his caresses, but never his heart. With her, Marc dared to expose his soul, revealing to her the intricate mechanisms that brought life to his entire being. She shared hers in return; a fusion of souls that remained unbroken despite many attempts by others to destroy it--jealous ex-lovers, false friends, misunderstanding parents, a hostile society. He shielded her from all those, enveloped her in the safety of his arms. But, he could not protect her from an unsurpassed foe: Time.
She had fallen ill; a mysterious disease which robbed precious life from her body, so that her soul grew dimmer, her flesh weaker. They had only but a few years together. At first, the days seemed long, dragged down by the chains of her disease. As love began to lighten the shadows of the disease, the days flew past like hours. They immersed themselves wholly in the love they shared, squeezing out every drop of passion in their soul and spirit till they could wring out no more. The more they loved, the faster Time ran. It was as if their love lasted only seconds, while the pain stretched for years. However, a greater pain soon seized his heart when she lay on her deathbed. Suddenly, it seemed as if those years had never been there, having flown by like seconds. He felt angry, cheated.
She did not die quietly, leaving with a peaceful smile on her lips. It was not rest she fell into, it was a fierce never-ending battle, full of anger and hatred. A long, painful process; as if she were struggling with Death himself, mortal will against eternal blade. Here again, Time played with him, lengthening the last few seconds of her final struggle so that they seemed like an eternity in hell.
Violent spasms, long cries of anguish, the relentless pain, merciless as the waves that pound the shore.
"Make it stop, Marc. Please make it stop..."
Helplessness engulfed his soul, paralyzing him. He wished for the end to come quickly, to end the agonized suffering. But Time only slowed his pace to a nonchalant amble.
"Oh God, it hurts. It hurts so much..."
Why are you playing with her? Enough! Dammit, stop it! He cried out in anguish, unable to bear the sight of his lover in such torment.
Pounds of helpless fury. Anger at being unable to protect her when she needed it most. Stuck in a mire designed by Time with a wicked smile and crafty hands.
Oh God, please stop it...stop the suffering. Take her...take her now!
And she was gone.
Marc opens his eyes, and the image of her slips away. It had been so long ago, he notes. The clock beside him continues to tick at the right pace. Marc smiles cynically; he is master of Time now. After the death of the only woman he loved, he had barricaded the gates. Pulled down the shutters. Locked the doors. Time's Achilles heel was love. He would quicken during the springs of love, and slow when winter arrived. Without love, Time became a slave to his will because there were no eternal winters that Time could torment him with. So, the loveless years had passed at a normal pace; there was no grief, but there was no joy either.
The raft begins to rock hard. Marc sits up in surprise. The sky is turning black; the waves are choppy, murky with anger. Rain starts to fall; large cold drops pouring down, soaking him to the bone. The thunder roars with menace, while the lightning flashes threateningly. The waves hit him around like a beach ball, mocking him. Marc grabs the clock; its hands are spinning uncontrollably. The storm rises in fury; raging at him with cold black hands. The hands of Death. He is about to die, Marc realizes.
Marc picks up a stick, and strikes it through the waves, pushing hard. But the waves prove too powerful for him. They whip the raft around playfully, exhausting his efforts at moving towards one direction. With a burst of strength, he pushes forth. The waves growl in return, splashing over him in anger. His hands slip, and the stick is gone.
"Damn."
A familiar helplessness begins to descend upon him.
"Come, we've got to get you out of here."
Marc turns, and sees a girl, her long brown hair whipped by the winds. She is on a raft too, but strangely enough, it appears to be unaffected by the rough waves, as if it were on smooth glass. She also looks dry, untouched by the rain. She smiles at him, extending her hand.
"No," Marc says angrily.
The rain pelts down in heavy sleets, plastering his hair to his cheek. Marc brushes it off impatiently. His eyes flash with anger. The girl looks back at him; her large eyes filled with sadness, and something else that Marc can't quite comprehend.
"The absence of love is death. You cannot live while you do not love," she says. "You are dying, can't you see?" She casts her gaze at the storm around them, thundering maliciously at him while ignoring her. She extends her hand again, her eyes filled with a familiar desperation.
The waves rise in tantrum, pushing him further away from her. She is shouting something at him, but he can't hear her; the sound of her voice muffled by the cries of the storm. Her shouts grow fainter and fainter; her figure becomes less and less visible as the waves throw them apart, while the thick rain forms a silver screen between them.
"Come out of the storm, Marc." He looks around. There is nothing but violent crashing waves and inky black sky, a canvas against the relentless pelting rain and sharp biting wind. He hears the words though he can't see her. Where is she? A sudden despondency grasps his heart, and he begins to feel cold inside, almost as cold as the bitter winds that scourge his skin.
"I'm through!" he yells, shaking his fist at the sky. "You win, again! You made me suffer when I loved her. Well, are you going to make me suffer now too? Crawl while I begin to die?"
Marc laughs hysterically.
"You can control me now...but I was master over you for years! Torture me now; but while you were beneath my feet, I felt no pain. None! I loved no one. No one at all...since she left me."
"I loved no one..." he repeats, softly.
Marc begins to weep, pounding his hand uselessly on the wood. He curls up in a fetal position, sobbing and shivering as the rain hits him mercilessly. Suddenly, a huge wave crashes upon him, overturning the raft. Marc quickly pushes his head above the water, and swims towards the raft, holding onto it as tightly as he can. As the sea whips him around, his legs begin to feel numb. His teeth chatter with the cold. He is dying of hypothermia. The seconds pass extremely slowly; he hears Time laughing.
"Marc. Marc."
Marc looks up at the sound of the whisper. The brown-haired girl is on a raft beside him. "I love you," she whispers. "Let me help you." Sincerity colors the pupils of her eyes a deep soulful brown; the love in her face glows with such warmth that it drives the cold away for an instant.
She extends her hand for the third time. With the slightest hesitation, Marc reaches out, and takes her hand. In the midst of a thunderstorm, two figures hold each other in a tight embrace as the sea whips them around, unheeding of the tempest around them, aware only of each other. Warmth of another soul beside, melting away all troubles and adversities. Love that covers and protects with a wide-spanned wing, keeping them snug and dry from the cold wetness of hate and emptiness. Through the falling rain, they kiss with unbridled passion, skin slick with unrestrained desire. Repressed emotion that explodes in a violent bouquet of love. Bittersweet with pain and passion. Time stops. They could have been embracing for seconds or hours. Marc does not know. He is only aware of her; everything else...time, space; they fail to exist.
When Marc tries to open his eyes, a bright light fills them. He squints and turns his eyes away. Sand grinds against his body. He gets up, and sees a vast ocean before him. He is no longer on the raft. Looking around, he sees the raft, broken and splintered on the shore.
"Marc."
He turns behind and sees the girl, a beautiful smile curved on her lips. She begins to walk towards him, her brown hair caressed gently by the breeze. Instinctively, Marc's feet move forward till he meets her up close, standing only a few inches apart. She brushes a tendril of wet hair from his cheek tenderly. In the background, he hears a gentle ticking sound, and wonders briefly about the wicked manipulations of Time. As he kisses her, the thoughts vanish. He would rather be a slave to love than master over Time.
Written at 12:49 AM
