Memoirs of Innocence
MEMOIRS OF INNOCENCE
Names have been changed (meanings have been used), to protect the truly ‘Innocent’.
INNOCENT. My sin, my soul, my friend, my sight, my creativity, my identity, my reality, my miracle, my beloved, my day, my tears, my night, my fears, my thoughts, my dreams, my every breath, my life, my prayer, the very beat of my heart.
Innocent. Lips slightly part and then round up as if to whistle your name.
A name that makes my mind fill with nostalgia and euphoria elate my heart. All our days together seem to be part of a dream, a voyage beyond space and time, as blessed as time of epiphany, as soothing as the time of angelus.
Time and again I think about the short, meager moments we shared. Time and again I look back on those days. Time and again I leaf through these miserable memories. Not a single day passes without at least a fleeting thought about you. There is no recession from this cul-de-sac called love. I can’t live on miserably like this, without getting it off my chest. I have to confess to go on living like I hath lived before. I write not to impress, but because my heart would burst if I don’t find an outlet for the thoughts that burn my soul. For waiting is painful, forgetting is painful; but not knowing what to do is the worst.
[+ Chapter- 1 +]
“No, I’m studying here ever since LKG”
It was a Wednesday. It must have been a Wednesday. Although my brain has retained much, but the exact day still remains blurred in my memory. I was in 9th then. I sat there in a white van, 3rd row of seats, on the right side. From the window I could almost see children running about. I rolled my eyes and they disappeared. I remembered it was day off for classes up to 8th.
Just then the driver approached, opened the door to the van and someone climbed in. I kept staring out the window, oblivious that I was no longer alone in my meditation. Suddenly a peculiar fragrance enveloped me.
‘It can’t be’ I thought, turning my head to either confirm or refute my conjecture. And there she was.
Dressed in a checked suit of white, grey and black; white lower; white socks and black shoes.
It was love at first sight, last sight, at ever and ever sight. Before I even knew I was madly, clumsily, shamelessly, agonizingly in love.
I was still staring at her when she said something. I didn’t really hear what she was saying, but just saw her lips slightly parting revealing a row of opals. It took some time before I realized she had said ‘Hi’ and I was seeming rude by not replying. I quickly muttered ‘Hi’. My heart was beating frantically as if trying to break through and reach out to her.
She began staring out the window and silence welled up between us. I was straining against the shackles of shyness that weighed down my tongue.
I finally broke through “you are a newcomer, right? You came in around 8^th^ class, eh?” She replied what she hath said at the beginning of the chapter. I could hear my heartbeat. It was the first time I had ever faced jamais-vu.
She inclined her head towards the window, swinging away her hair to reveal a beautifully shaped ear with a soft rounded earlobe. It’s edge aglow with a downy fringe.
She had straight black hair, with streaks of grey in between, which somewhat added to her old soul personality. A face of exceptional innocence. A face that did not seem ever to have encountered disillusion or evil in a world of impunity, of brazen insolent vice. Her beauty stung my eyelids like smoke.
And behind all this were nerves of iron, a firm resolve as I was to discover later.
If I were to describe her, I couldn’t do so without what would seem as exaggeration.
She seemed like a musician from heaven, a maiden of the sea, a hoor, a daughter of the serpent kings.
Her face was like that of a full moon; as a season she was the spring; as a flower, jasmine; as a speaker, the nightingale; as a perfume, musk; as a beauty, Aphrodite; and as a being, love.
I was still marveling at her beauty, and contemplating about what to say, when we approached around the bend of the cul-de-sac in which her house was situated. I finally spoke after about half of half an hour, “Doesn’t
Abbas live here?”
‘Shit’, I thought, this is not what I wanted to ask, I wanted to talk about her. “Ya, he does. You know him?”. “He’s my childhood buddy.” Just then I saw her house, memory fails me, but I think it was white in color. A low-lying, humble house that housed the learned authoress that was seated before me, just five seconds ago, who was now picking up her bag, now opening the door and now, she was gone.
Before she had gone and before my wits would go wool gathering, I managed to whisper “bye”. She said bye, slung the bag over her shoulder and rushed into the house.
Her mother was standing at the dooryard. She received her daughter with a smile and that was the last thing I took in before the door closed and the driver started backing the van.
[+ Chapter- 2 +]
After that day, I enquired about her from whatever source I could find and learned much about her. Like that- she was the cousin of a friend of mine; and even small details like her last name, that she dyes her hair and many more. Some said that she’s a little high- headed but my little tete-a-tete with her had revealed nothing of the sort.
[+ Chapter- 3 +]
One day I was sitting in class, I had passed a sleepless night and was trying to make up for it by a quick siesta.
Someone patted my head. It might have been intended as a smack but it came off as a pat. I ignored it as to my classmates, trying to exasperate me.
Someone called my name and poked me in the ribs. It was Generous. He was still poking me in the ribs. I said “What?” He said “Innocent came and slapped you while you were sleeping.”
I thought he was pulling my leg, but when several others joined in, I realized it must be true. The whole period I kept thinking that why had she come? Maybe she wanted my help in something and I was sleeping, so she was trying to wake me up. A million possibilities seemed probable and yet none.
When the bell rang to mark the end of the period, I got up and went outside the class for a change of air and to stretch my cramped up legs. I was still in corridor facing towards the primary sections, when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I spun around, half expecting to find some or the other teacher standing behind me.
It was Innocent, guileless, naïve. A tinge of pink flooded my cheeks as she said “Hey, Leander?”, “Yes” I replied, overcoming the stammer I feared would anytime creep into my speech. “I’m sorry for slapping you on the head, it was a dare” I said I didn’t mind and that I should go back in or the monitors would surely complain against me. I rushed in and wiped my forehead. For beads of precipitation had lined on it. I had excused myself for I feared to talk to her, feared I’d say or do something stupid. Feared amorous anathema. Feared lapsus linguae.
Not a single day passes when I don’t think of you. I sleep & I dream and I wake & I think. Many details have been lost among the blurred, fragmentary, slightest and distinct memories. My thoughts still echo your name, my heart beats to fall in and your memory gets in the way of my memory.
Every single time I close my eyes, your face materializes in front of them. You pale, faint glow hovering in the thick darkness behind my eyelids, like a lost soul.
But it takes time, materializing your face in my thoughts by my own will. And as a year has passed, the time has grown longer- like shadows lengthening at dusk.
And someday I suppose the shadows will be swallowed up in the darkness.
I forget where you used to stand, where I stood, where we conversed.
Just this little spot in my brain kicks up every time I hear your name and even that is bound to fade one day.
Leaving just me clutching the fading, faded imperfect memories to my heart, wondering if somewhere deep inside me there is a dark limbo where all the truly important memories are dumped.
But it’s good in its own way, for the more your memory fades, the better I can understand you.
Your fierceness, jolliness, friendliness, your poems, your mellifluous voice, and what not.
But it’s too late now. It’s impossible to make promises or demands or to set down petty words. I know I am guilty of violating the latter, but I want to write. I have to write. To turn sadness into longing and solitude into remembrance.
Now that I come to think of it, I realize that I spent far more time with you, Innocent, than I would have earlier accounted for. With time I started conversing with Innocent.
She used to stand near her van and I used to come up to talk to her.
Oh’ how I longed to confess to her. I had the urge to confess. I have the urge to confess. But what if the priest isn’t even listening? What if my sentence is already judged? What if?
Although I don’t clearly remember what we used to talk about, I do clearly remember that it was I who did all the blabbering, you joining in just for an occasional remark. But I wasn’t myself anymore. I feared lest the void I lived in may drive me to plunge into the freedom of sudden insanity.
[+ Chapter- 5 +]
For me Innocent was like a mirage, you don’t question its veracity, you simply follow it, until it vanishes or until it destroys you.
Once I was flipping through the pages of school journal (Golden Jubilee edition) and I stumbled upon a group photo of ________. In the row from the top, ____ from the ____.
The femme fatale.
I told her ‘bout this. She asked ‘innocently’, “My photo? Why? Oh! They print photos of VIP’s.”
Words fell from her lips like drops of dew falling from petals of flowers when swayed by a wandering breeze.
I smiled, “It’s a class group photograph.” She sweared softly under her breath, and went about her way.
[+ Chapter- 6 +]
My friend Generous had a crush on Pine Tree/Fir. He made me write a poem to give to her. I wrote and he gave it to
nameera to give it to her. I still remember it- ‘Joke may be lame but I love you from the stone ages’. It worked, somewhat, at first. The other song ‘It wasn’t easy’ was written by Generous, but that’s another story. So I won’t delve into the details here.
So Generous came to me one day and said “Did you know Innocent also writes poems?”, “Really?”, “Yeah, you should ask her to show them to you.” I assented, flooded by the endless stream of feelings.
I asked her in recess few days hence, that whether she wrote as I’d heard. She confirmed it. I expressed my desire to view any if she so permitted.
She did, but she hadn’t got her poem pad that day. So after 3 days I again asked her and this time lady luck smiled at me. She had brought her poem pad, it was in the classroom. She asked me to wait while she fetched it. I stood there near the fifth pillar from the gent’s staffroom, a few paces away from the dustbin. The sun was beating down hard but I stood transfixed to the spot. She had asked me to wait, so wait I would. Little did I know that this wait shall extend into a longer one, just waiting, longing and hoping. I had no idea that one day she’d part without any parting, never to be reconciled. (I hope not, God can’t be so cruel.)
She returned with her poem pad and flipped through the pages to the one poem she’d grant me the privilege to read.
Here again my accursed memory falters. I don’t remember the poem. Just that it went something like this- ‘He drowns in her eyes’, ‘floating in an ocean’ and that too is not too sure.
There was another incident.
Anas had had some misunderstanding with Vast, following which Vast was going to thrash Anas.
I was across the school at a shop trying to pacify the situation, when someone called “Leander?” I turned about to see Innocent, her face beaming, whisper of a smile on her lips.
A face that carried me to a world of dreams, made me listen to throbbing of my heart and to see the ghosts of my thoughts and feelings standing before me, looking me in the eye.
“Let’s walk to the van” I couldn’t believe my ears. It seemed like sueño. I could have screamed and the whole universe would have resounded.
But I also had an impending task to do. Vast was about to call up goons to thrash
Anas. She noticed my reluctance and said “You want to come or not?” that decided it. “Yeah. I am”.
We conversed on our way there. It seemed like the shortest and yet the longest walk ever; as though time had stopped, frozen, had come to a halt or as if the time didn’t even exist. I wished we’d never reach the van. But we had to; we can’t walk forever and hope to reach nowhere. So the van did come and she was gone. Like a dream of bliss that floats before the dying eyes for one short hour, sheds happiness and then flies to bless no more.
My memory fluctuates sometimes. I get swamped by the sudden plethora of memories. I was almost forgetting to mention something. Before we reached the van, before she had parted, leaving behind an aching mind and a longing heart, something happened which confirmed my view of her as a strong lady and that it would be she and only she (You, who else Innocent), who would be the destiny of my reality or the fate of my dreams. I was walking beside her, when some imbecilic eighth standard students start throwing jeers, taunts, jibes, scoffs, fleers, sneers, snouts at us “Ooo!…. Leander has a girlfriend!!!”
My ears turned ruddy and I yelled at one of them, who lives near my house to mind his own business, to which I was replied- “ This is my business”.
What intrigues me the most is that the alias of that boy was the same as you- Innocent.
I was going to turn a deaf ear, a blind eye to him and his childish rebukes, and keep walking, when she crossed the road to where the boys were standing, stood up to them, stared the boy in the eye and calmly said-
“Say it full, if you dare” the boy retorted.
“[_ Alright then, F*** off! _]”
I stood there at the other end of the road where she’d left me, staring at the epitome of beauty. Hot words were now starting to run high, so I intervened and asked
priyanka to stop her. She wouldn’t listen and was about to slap him, I somehow pacified the situation by saying that- why dirty your hands by swatting a fly, leave it and it will buzz off. She finally relented and turned away from him, but not without a final warning to stay out of her way.
I was flabbergasted, dumbfound and awestruck by her demeanor (in a positive way, of course). I told her this, but she was her old humble self again and would have none of it. I had to hide my feelings, that I had become her ardent aficionado that very moment. I was affected by fervent admiration, true homage and deep love.
But I couldn’t tell her, could I? For I know it would only be dismissed by the wave of her hand and a smile, a smile whose jaded edges would cut at my heart like a knife, sparkling and blinding me. So instead I decide not to wear my heart on my sleeve, like I’ve done, past these sixteen milestones.
I felt awkward, but concealed it and put on a jovial mask.
I joked about and told her, “You can also said Firetruck you know, it starts with F and ends with UCK.” This refused to draw a smile as her driver was calling out to her to come quick for he hadn’t got all day to wait for her.
“Innocent had a fight with
Adhiraj on Tuesday” Generous told me on Friday. I grew restless in my shoes I just had to find the root of the problem and get him to apologize if he’s at fault.
I asked Innocent in recess that day.
She said “Oh, it was nothing. We had kept our bags in class in CCA period.
Adhiraj, Salik [_ and some others came in our class (X- C) and threw the bags on the floor. My bag was among them. I asked ] [_ Adhiraj] to pick it up. He said it’s your bag, so you should. That enraged me and a verbal fight ensued. He called me several derogatory names, but not that I left him without a piece of my mind. I later told Archana ma’am and she asked them to apologize.”
I stood there frozen in time.
It felt as if a rainbow had arched down from the heavens, a rainbow like an angel’s breath, like an answered prayer; coming to an end on the very spot where she stood. Rainbows looping and dancing in the sky. And there you stood with a kind heart, fierce mind and a brave spirit.
“And the third prize goes to
I was disappointed, but not much, that I hadn’t even been 3rd in singing competition. Just last Tuesday I had come fully prepped up. I know I’d got stage fright and that I sounded like an old man due to nervousness, yet still I’d expected at least a consolation.
I still remember my performance. O’ my machree, it will be cataclysm. During the performance I kept my eyes glued to the entrance gate of the hall, fearing that if I looked at the audience, their facetious ways would make me burst into a paroxysm of peeling laughter, thus breaking my flow.
I did cast a fleeting glance over them. And my eyes only seeked one person- you, Innocent. And when I did find you, I got bereft of all senses. I even forgot the lyrics and ended up singing random lines strung together in tune. Which won me Indu ma'am's smirk. I swear she did smirk, I took it in in a fleeting glance towards the judges.
After the programme and the school was over, I as usual went to Innocent’s van to talk.
It had become a habit for me, a ritual. Till at last it was impossible for me to pass a day without conversing with her as it is for an opium eater to forgo his daily portion.
I approached Innocent and asked “How was my song?”, “It was okay. It’s my father’s favorite song, you know.” I sank into deep thought as she spoke or more accurately into complete blankness of mind. “But I liked
Anas’ song better”, she continued.
I was enveloped in numbness, an absence of feeling so deep the bottom was lost from view. I knew then that if she didn’t like my song I won’t win. But still something deep inside me still expected a prize even if just a measly consolation.
It was a humid morning. There hovered an embankment of rolling, smoking fog, so dense, it was like stepping into another world. It was truly biblical, a fog, I could imagine God in one of His lesser wraths cursing the Egyptians with. The sun had faded to a pale white bloom.
Towards noon, the fog cleared and light illuminated every nook and corner except for the dark recesses of my heart.
Then the day again grew gloomy, with dark-bellied clouds taking the place of fog in obstructing the sunlight. A curtain of clouds under spread the sky and few drops of rain fell audibly.
About the end of 6th period, a light drizzle started and by the last period it was pouring down heavily. Thunderheads had rolled in, painting the sky iron grey. Within minutes sheets of rain were sweeping in, the steady hiss of falling water swelling in my ears.
The rain had stopped towards the end of the last period, but the streets were flooded. I was glad the weather was as bleak and turbulent as my emotions. I waddled through malleolus deep water to my van. I was standing on the pavement, outside beautiful beauty parlor, when a splash of water drenched my back. I spun around, simultaneously kicking up a wave to drench whosoever had started this.
I was chasing him around following our water fight, when someone else splashed my back, it was Innocent, in all her innocence. I averted my oeillade, kicked up the water and raised a wave at her; following which a volley of waves ensued.
I don’t remember what day or month it was. I only know the memory lived in me, a perfectly encapsulated morsel of a good past, a brush stroke of color on the gray, barren canvas my life had become.
I wished the frolics of this moment would last ad infinitum, in perpetum, in saecula saeculorum. But alas, that wasn’t possible.
Sea was going on his Activa from the same road. When Innocent saw him, she asked him for lift and hopped on.
Sea sped away taking away my treacle, the soul of my songs, the rhyme of my poems with him.
Before he turned the ignition key, Innocent turned back and waved me goodbye.
It was like a Parthian shot, piercing my soul, flooding me with enigmatic feelings.
[+ Chapter- 11 +]
Several events remain clouded in my memory.
Like when it was someone’s b’day and he was treating us to a treat at the shop facing the school. He had a bag full of the small ten rupee cokes. Everyone grabbed on to one, including me. You were left in this bustle. I was coming up to you to give you mine, when
Arsalan gave you his. I never envied him as I did in that moment.
Several other incidents remain shrouded in uncertainty; like when I had bought two icicles for myself and you asked for one. I’m sure about this incident so I’ll leave it at it.
But one or rather three incidents are what changed the ending.
The chapter 1 isn’t chapter 1 at all, it is nearer to chapter 3. For that was not the first time I saw her. In eighth class, asked for came into our class to ask for something two times. The first time she was alone, she asked for a whitener and I gave it to her. I had quite forgotten about it when she came back along with a girl, I didn’t attach much importance to it. The second time she was accompanied by the same girl and came directly to me to ask for the whitener. When she’d gone, I inquired who they were, then only I came to know that the second girl was a girl called Innocent. I had no feelings what so ever towards you at that time. So you see, chapter 1 is a lie. It wasn’t love at first sight, but at third sight.
[+ Chapter- 12 +]
I was sitting in class on the left most seat of the third row, in the column of seats near the door. I was designing the sign of our future band. I was still at it, deliberating between an eagle and a mic, when my eyes darted towards the door to find her standing at the door yard, searching some face or other. Our eyes met and I quickly lowered them in respect and sheepishness. She rushed up to me and held out her hand. “Come on! Do a handshake!” I just sat there, frozen in time, translated into a photograph; denied motion, suspended impossibly above earth. “Come on! I ain’t gonna bite. ” I extended my limp hand towards her, fearing any moment she’d scream ‘Noli me tangere- Don’t touch me’
But she didn’t. She grabbed unto my hand, gave it a firm quirk and ran out the classroom making my heart flutter.
Feelings rushed in like a tide, drowning me, filling my lung with its revenant saltiness. My cheeks turned Rome, a faint smile dimpled my cheeks, my ears turned pink and I felt euphoria close in on me like a crowd.
But then another kind of emotion grabbed onto my heart. A kind of fear. Confusion. Mistrust. Suspicion. Why does she come time and again to rekindle my fading fondness? Just to leave me fragmented? Just to leave me disheveled? What is raison d’etre behind her frequently crossing my paths, deliberately, not letting me forget? She was a vortex, tempting me back to my old self. But it was a dead self, a shadow and I would not become a phantom.
And then I remembered her face, her name- ‘Innocent’, how could anyone with such a beautiful face, such heavenly grace, such an Innocent name, play such games? Surely it was my own mind that had decided to enslave my heart for her.
[+ Chapter- 13 +]
It was the time of Christmas. The air was full of chill that would cut into your bones, make your teeth clatter and numb your toes. I was wearing a paletot. Very few children were coming those days. A faint sun illumined the day. None of my friends had come that day so I ventured into X-C, hoping to find Innocent there. Murky clouds scudded across the sky, veiling the sun in casket grey. As I stepped through the door, I was blinded by a flood of splendor. The last dream of my soul stood before me, simultaneously writing and erasing something on the board. The windows opposite the door, facing the cycle stand illumined the left side of her face and it almost seemed as though there were an aureole over her head.
As I approached near, she turned to me and said “Hi”.
O’ my Innocent. How would you know what an absent minded introvert I was. I had loved you prima facie, but confessing was ultra vires. I murmured a faint ‘Hi’ but it dried before it reached my lips. She said “There’s something on your coat” “Where?” I said, dusting off my flaps, and looking for any dirt that might’ve settled or something of the sort. “At the back. Wait, let me dust it off” she approached me. As I turned about, to face my back towards her, so that she could dust off the alleged something on my coat, she stamped her chalk-caked hand on my coat, “Now you have something on your coat” and burst into laughter. It was a ringing laughter like the tintinnabulation of church bells, yet also akin to the laughter of the moon.
Days and months passed since, but I still had the coat, with her hand imprint still visible, but then one day I learnt mom had donated it.
[+ Chapter- 14 +]
Last day in school. I woke up early, with the alarms blaring in my ears. I had had a beautiful dream that night. I was standing at the shop in front of our school, talking to Innocent.
None of our conversation remained in my memory but the scene certainly did.
I threw aside my blanket and sat down to complete the poem I had started writing for her. The second O confused me, for being new to this acrostic business, words still perplexed me, hence I couldn’t think of any sentence. Later that day, Generous suggested I write what I wrote later, and I haven’t changed it till day.
Later that day in school I told Generous that I wanted to give this poem to Innocent. He agreed, being this the last day, God knows when I’d get another chance. But, only on one condition, it’ll be his writing on the fair copy, for my own was so illegible that she’d have to strain her eyes to decipher it. I let him do it, for he indeed had a point there.
After the school bell had rung, marking the end of the last period, I rushed towards the van, ready to give Innocent the last remnants of my heart. She wasn’t there, so I leaned against a wall and just waited.
A small girl, who went in the same van as me, fifth standard, came up to me and said “What do you have in your hand Leander brother?” I said “Nothing” she said “Is it for some girl? Yes, it is for a girl. The one who goes by that van, right?” I declined and declined everything she accused me of and prayed that she’d go away soon. “It’s her. I know. You know, I don’t like her a bit” saying this, she snatched the poem out of my hand, tore it in two and threw it into the nearby sewer.
I, I just couldn’t control myself, I yelled, “What does it matter with you anyway? Go away!”, to which she replied by running away, shouting “I hate you! You are not my big bro anymore.”
I saw Innocent coming towards the van just then. I quickly looked at the poem lying in the sewer, soaked by now. I didn’t even have a spare copy, the original one I had left with Generous.
The driver was calling out to Innocent to come quick. I only got time enough to shake her hand before she climbed into the van. As the driver was revving up the engine, her eyes darted towards me. I raised my hand up and waved. She smiled, and waved back. By now, the van was at the turn and then it was gone. It was a beautiful pain, letting you go. Though it was a cold day, I was no longer cold. Her face floating before the eyes like muscae volitantes, rekindling the spark within me from fire, to the lit end of perfumed incense sticks.
[+ Chapter- 15 +]
It was Friday, ___ of _____. It was the day we’d bid farewell to our school.
Arsalan came to my house to pick me up. We went to Faiz’s house, Generous was already waiting there. We readied ourselves, donned the suits and at around ______, we reached the school, just as the door was about to close.
I took a seat in the rows of seats on the left side, fourth column, right most seat, as the programme started. The program itself was quite boring, so I just let my eyes wander. When the song ‘It’s the Slogan of the World’ my eyes wandered to the row on the right, and there, in the second column, second seat from left, sat Innocent. I couldn’t see her properly, just her bun, so I stood up to get a better view over the heads hindering my view. Our arts teacher saw me and scolding me, made me sit back down. I had by now grown quite restless. As soon as the program ended and we were asked to stand up, I quickly did and I glanced in her direction. Orange suit, hair up in a bun, Innocent looked strikingly beautiful. I approached her direction, taking care that I attracted no notice. She had let her hair go undyed today. The silver streaks outlined her facial features and brought out the old soul in her prominently. Her teeth were sparkling white that day, contrary to the cheese-like color I had grown accustomed to.
She didn’t eat much, focusing more on capturing most of the day, not letting any of it slip by. Several times I thought of going up to her and getting a memory still, between hesitation and palpitation of heart, I was so confused that my tongue clung to my teeth.
I would time and again spot her near the stage, clicking pics after pics.
I even tried to click pic of her without her knowledge but that bore no fruit as I’d just stare at the display, and keep staring, until she moved away somewhere else.
After it all was over and I was standing at the shop facing our school, I saw her, with fir tree/pine and asked for, standing at the gate.
I stood and stared at her. And while I was at it, a white car came and in she went along with her friends and the next thing I knew, she was gone.
As I saw the brake lights of the car fade away, I muttered bye under my breath. This was the last goodbye. No happily ever after follows. This is reality. There is no Easter bunny, and the tooth fairy does not exist.
Back at home, I burnt the poem I had written for her and blew away the ashes. This was the funeral pyre of my story.
As I scattered the ashes, they flew away with the wind. Maybe to her. Maybe they’ll carry my story to her. Just maybe. Maybe’s which never materialize. Maybe’s which exist only to give hope. A fake hope which only disappoints.
It saddens me to think that I will never see her again. I hope not, God can’t be so cruel.
So Goodbye Innocent. Maybe someday we’ll meet again. Maybe that day we’ll pass each other’s way as total strangers not quite recognizing each other.
But if there’s someone up their listening to my prayers…….
[+ Chapter- 16 +]
Innocent. The consuming thought of parting from you has burned up my mind and memory. And understanding has been destroyed by this pain and from excess of love.
Who could look into your eyes without wishing to do again?
Who could hear your voice without hoping that such music would sound once again? (That Magic you sung, by 1D. ♥♥♥)
For months after farewell, it was just me, empty pages and a frozen pen, leaden with your memories.
Each day without you was like a night with no song.
A harp without no sound, east with no sun.
O’ my Dulcinea. I had to resort to what would seem as exaggeration to describe you. For your beauty can’t be described in words for only our souls can understand it. It is a sensation our eyes can’t perceive. Like a dream of revelation which cannot be measured or bound or copied. It can’t be expressed by the chisel of a sculptor, brush of a painter o the pen of a poet.
So, instead, I decided to pen down my memories instead. To constrain them to mere pages.
For even when it’s all over, memories refuse to go home. It’s just me, stuck here in the labyrinth of my own creation, for there is no Ariadne to hand me the thread out.
I’ve run out of memories, Innocent. Nothing’s left to recount. With each page you turn, my restlessness will decrease, my dreams will dwindle and my prison of memories shall set me free.
But time has taught me not to lose hope, yet not to trust too much in hope either.
In the end, I would like to utter it once more- Innocent.
For without your name, my life can have a beginning, but no end.
Memoirs of Innocence
A poignant write, by a lovelorn fool, for his Venus. The author Leander is a cynical person. But the one person his cynicism spared was innocent. So he wrote. For confessing required courage, which would malfunction every time he was near his Artemis.
He couldn't describe her beauty, so he set about recounting their memories instead.
But it ended at that. No happy endings. Just a longing and a wait.
- Author: C.K. BiTe
- Published: 2017-05-07 09:20:10
- Words: 6059