Every night, when the world is asleep and the stars would be industriously glimmering in the sky above, I would quietly climb up to the roof of my apartment and lie down with my little-paperbacked world. Reading my favorite blank arrays of words strung together by my thought day after day would often lead me closer to my closure. I have been looking for a way, staring into the void that you have left me in. I am a hostage, in my own little barricade of slack.
One casual night, while drooling over my drained pages, I heard my path being tracked by another being. Quietly and steadily, I opened my eyes to notice the creature standing in front of me. The shock was huge, enough to knock me over the ledge of the roof, I stumbled and the creature caught onto my shirt. I did save myself but it wouldn’t be wrong to say her mesmerizing charm was powerful enough to attract me towards her in a literal sense; matter and magnetism seemed feasible concepts to her. Yes, her. The creature was female, I still have trouble declaring her as a human being but nevertheless, she was one.
“What are you doing up here?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Though I almost died. I think I’ll pass pressing murder charges against you.”
“You’re not funny.”
Not true, I generally am. But in my defense, I was thrown off balance so I was finding it hard to focus.
“Who sleeps on the roof at 3 in the night? Go home and sleep, I need some privacy.”
“Hey! I came here first, and you’re one to ask. What are you doing here at 3 am?”
“I wanted some time alone, clearly I am not going to get any.”
“Umm… Hi, I am Richard.” I said while extending a half-hearted hand. I don’t even know what I was expecting her to do. “You are welcome to use this roof for as long as you like. I’ll be on my way now. I think I have had enough inspiration for a day.”
“What a weirdo, sure, thanks. Now, leave please.”
I had already started to make my way before she had the chance to reply.
“Chirstine.” She said in a feeble voice.
“Gotchya!” I shouted back at her.
–
The next night I was preparing to leave for the roof but I couldn’t find my pile of papers which I carried to my nightly solemn refuge. After rigorous searching and meaningless rattling through my apartment, I gave up hope.
It’s so easy to give up something that never was truly was yours. My hope had vanished a long time back; what I carried around as a substitute were the ashes of optimism. The darkness that I had been sucked into had me chasing dreams like I was on Novocaine, but I longed for the light even though it would blind me. I know I have been going off topic lately but that’s how it works when people like us get out of a writer’s block. The amount of emotions bottled up, the longing for resonating these along with the words that are emitted by my body, is just immense.
I made my way to the roof anyway. There I saw her standing, on the edge of the roof and looking up into the sky. It was like she was trying to define the night skyline with her eyes and aiming for it with her body.
I moved to my usual position and avoided any kind of dialogue. I silently lied down and looked up into the beautiful Aquila that the stars formed that night.
“So you believe that we should leave our lovers, just because the emotional turmoil lets you have a better and wider experience of the full range of feelings that a human possesses?”
“Yeah, more or less. It helps me write better things.” I must have been in a trance of sorts because I didn’t realize I had been talking to her and not my own thoughts.
Suddenly I snapped out of it. “How do you know that?”
“I read it in one of your stories. You left your diary here last night.”
“What? That’s not a diary. It’s record of my observations and….”
“I think it’s a diary alright.”
“… But in any case, you shouldn’t have read it. You don’t have the right to read a diary belonging to an unknown person.”
“So you agree it’s a diary.”
“No, I don’t. But you can’t read all that.”
“Chill, I didn’t read everything. And I couldn’t tell anyone if I were to follow through. ”
“Yeah, right.”
I took my ‘diary’ and returned to my position.
–
Over the nights, I befriended her and we got really close. My objective was simple; I wanted her to be on my side and stay quiet about my ‘diary’. And it wasn’t so hard. I really liked hanging out with her. And over time my objective seemed to be meaningless, though the guilt of my intentions always reminded me of what I was getting into.
During our nightly meets on the roof, she would often ask me if I had written anything new, and I always had to tell her that I am still waiting for that spark to ignite my writer spirit. And she would repeat the same dialogue again and again, “So are you waiting for your lover to leave you?”
One fine night with the Aquila visible again, she was standing at the edge of the roof again.
She asked me, “Are you ready for some inspiration?” In a really playful way.
Confused yet excited, I replied with a nod.
“Close your eyes.”
Almost immediately, my eyes were shut.
And then silence followed. I waited for about seven to eight minutes but I couldn’t hear anything. I opened my eyes to see that she wasn’t around. I tried calling her name a few times but I got no answer. So I assumed it was another one of her games she’d like to play.
I casually strolled over to edge of the roof and looked down.
There lied my inspiration, there lied my spark, there lied the body of a dead woman who had liberated me with her death. I now had the urge and reason to write.
Later, it was found that she was mentally erratic and unstable, but to think that she was playing me the whole time I thought I was playing her was, humbling. Our separation hit me harder than any other separation I had ever faced. Because this time, there was no hope left. There were no second chances and no silver linings; there was only the pure emotional rage that I felt against her for her actions.
I am not sure if this how she wanted me to end up, but I know she did want me to write and I shall see to it that till the time I am capable of seeking redemption, I will seek by writing for her.
FoxSprite 