All of us are great stories, intricate events stitched
together; imperfect, incoherent pieces that fit perfectly. We’re all great
stories but we aren’t all written as chapter books. Each story with a
beginning, middle, and an ending but not necessarily in that order. When seen
in its fragments you’d notice how life in its inconsistency brings seems all
that more beautiful.
‘Chapter 351’
The old man sat on the park bench, by the river; the
memories that were buried like fossils, now dug up, fuel the agony of his
loneliness. They say if you repeat something too many times it loses its
meaning to you, the sunset is nothing more than 6pm to him anymore. He sits
here, trying to recall how she looked, trying to recall the full life that he
had lived. A life filled with love, now no longer. He tries to water the
flower, a flower that has long since withered away.
‘Chapter 271’
The man cradled his child in his arms for the first time. He
gazed on as he saw his little one, so peacefully resting in his arms. Fatherhood
had changed a man whose heart had been hardened by the short-comings of life.
His incoherent pieces had fit together perfectly now.
‘Chapter 231’
The two strangers exchanged glances, they were both boxes
labeled ‘fragile’ but life had forgotten to handle them with care. Both of them
had given up on life and love, to serve the wish of their families they both
got married. An arranged marriage was never in their books, but that didn’t
seem to matter anymore. Happiness had to come second to their family’s desire
and society’s perception of 30 year olds who are yet to be married.
‘Chapter 57’
The two broke out in
a fight. One cared too much, and the other, a little less hopeful. That had
been the last time that he bummed a smoke, as hopeless as he was, her affection
had given him a little hope in life. Such is a best friend, I suppose. Or was
that all?
‘Chapter 151’
The boy finally mustered up the courage to tell his best
friend that he was in love with her. She felt the same way, life seemed like it
couldn’t get any better. He had finally found his happily ever after in a
gawky, little girl. She wasn’t perfect, to him, she was art, and art isn’t
meant to be perfect, its meant to make you feel. He stared at her, glancing
awkwardly at first and then looking into her eyes all at once. Who would’ve
thought that first love would set in awkwardness between two people who knew
each other like their favourite books?
‘Chapter 170’
He still thinks of her, life didn’t serve him right. His
happily ever after was short lived. Nothing seemed right anymore. He lit
another one, his eighth one in succession, all of her affection had kept that
lighter at bay for 10 years. That was gone now, what was stopping him?
‘Chapter 421’
The tree has returned to the ground from which it rose, in
its place lay scattered its seedlings. The story now coursed through their
veins. As they reach for the sun, the look through their leaves and see the
story of what once was. The old man is no longer.
‘Chapter 1’
There was once a man and a woman, and from the tree of their
love blossomed a sapling that would one day compose a story in the crevices of
its rings.
