In my ever failing attempt to start and finish a novel, or something that resembles one, a task that began many years ago, I have decided to continue posting a few exerts, every now and again, so that one day I may muster up the courage to have something to show a publishing house. I see the below piece as being the opening to the novel, though that too may change with time...
Your comments are more than welcomed.
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Today was supposed to be like any other mundane Monday, except that it wasn’t. She felt unsettled. It might have everything to do with the unspoken words left lingering at the tip of her tongue yesterday, the ones she has been keeping entrapped inside her for so long- recycling between her mind and heart. There was always something that prevented her from saying them, not out of fear of change, but fearing that nothing will change.
Somewhere between a hapless dream and a stringent reality she discovered that she has been docked here too long. The tides have risen and fallen, moons have waxed and waned, summers gave way to fallen leaves, winter chills and spring blossoms, and yet she remains immersed in a drowning dream- a few heaps of breath to resurrect life here and there, but nothing to ever satiate…
She once reigned victorious over her dreams and scenes, knowing exactly where she was going and where she ought to be. But slowly, like fallen petals of a dying rose, she began to lose sight of her fixated target; lines that were once solid now became blurred and indiscriminant, everything was acceptable and yet nothing was. Welcome to adulthood.
“How do you kill love?” That was the question that kept replaying in her mind, she didn’t mean it to be rhetorical; it was action heavy.” It’s simple,” came an ominous voice, “kill its lifeline: hope”.
A sudden fleeting moment of clam overcame her as she danced in memory of the days when even cloud nine was so far down below and her smile never parted her lips for a second except to steal a kiss. Blissful happiness was euphoric.
The title of the article she had been meaning to write was staring right back at her, “Discovering the Heart Behind the Red Sole”. It was a piece she had to write about Louboutin, the iconic and celebrated shoe guru, but she couldn’t find the inspiration today, today was a day of mourning her red soul, not celebrating his painted one.
