The Girl on the Train

She was dressed as the definition of a “Plain Jane”. She sat in the window seat of the 7.30 train going from South to Central. Nondescript headphones in her ears, she bobbed her head occasionally to the sound of the beat. You wouldn’t know it if you didn’t know her but she had the personality of someone with an asymmetrical haircut. The way her thoughts leaped towards genius, her words that cut worse than the sharpest knives and her quirks that would rival a hipster’s dream, everything about her was noteworthy but she dressed so you wouldn’t notice her at all.

Loss—The Feeling is Real

Today I lost Moiraine. I howled and cried till the tears would come no more. I held my hands to my chest, afraid that my heart would jump out. I did it all like a thief in the night because you would not understand. You would call me a fool. Only fools cry over the deaths of those who aren’t real, you’ve said it before and you would say it again. In my heart I know it is not true. Moiraine was with me, and I with her over the last few months more than most other people in my life. I would spend my days with her, and my nights thinking of her. She inspired me, taught me, and even angered me at times. She may not have been real but the loss I feel is. The tears I cried were real. And this feeling of emptiness within me is real as well. So, the next time you see someone crying, laughing or falling in love with what you might think is unreal, think again. The feeling is real.

Rand al’Thor

I met him without any expectations yet he surpassed all of them. The first thing that stood out was his name, Rand al’Thor. I hadn’t heard a name like that before, but he seemed unaware of the way it sounded. To me it was almost, princely, yet to him it was just a simple shepherd’s name. Rand al’Thor, a shepherd from the town of Two Rivers, did not know his shy and well-mannered behaviour was pleasing. He didn’t know that at 6’5 and with shocking red hair, he stood out in an intriguing way. I think the fact that he was so unaware of himself in those ways, was what drew me to him the most. 

And so we began our journey together. Well, he was (and is) pretty unaware of my existence but his has become a part of my daily routine and nightly fantasies. The thing about Rand is that he’s the solid, dependable type of guy who has doubts only when it comes to saving himself. When it comes to helping others, he’s on the job until it gets done. Many young women of Two Rivers no doubt find this hero persona very attractive but they all know he will do his duty and marry Egwene al’Vere, his promised. Not that he has need to complain of course. He’s very fond of Egwene and she’s certainly worthy of Rand and more. However, I do wonder at times, do they love each other because they haven’t allowed themselves to experience anything different? I’d always thought that Egwene would be the first one to try out a different romance, just to see what it’s like (and I later found out that I was right). Rand on the other hand is the type to think about it once in a while but immediately admonish the thought. It goes against his duty and honour.

As the days past, I watched Rand overcome mammoth difficulties. He became much more than a shepherd from Two Rivers. Each new challenge strengthened his resolve, hardened his sense of duty, and firmly rooted his honour. He really does have the makings of the hero he currently plays at. But you see the thing with heroes is that their penchant for greatness can be manipulated if you know how. Rand is already facing this challenge and managing to stay his course. It feels like he’s in a vacuum at the moment though. The space between playing a hero and actually becoming one, or letting circumstance turn him into a villain. I’ll just have to continue reading and find out. What will you choose, Rand al’Thor?

Note: Written for the Blogging 101 Day Six Prompt: Who’s the most interesting person (or people) you’ve met this year?

P.S.: If you want to know more about Rand, I suggest you start reading The Wheel of Time Series. Also, I’m really falling behind on these prompts!

The Letter

Nancy,

It was always you.

-Fred

I read the words again. Tears swelled in my eyes, threatening to fall over. But I wiped them away quietly. I’d waited so long to hear “It was always you”. I’d loved Fred for three years. Three difficult years during which he hadn’t shown a hint of anything more than friendship. My roommate was the only one who knew, and the only one who helped me through it.

She was gone now though. She’d moved out only five days ago. Moved on to a new job and a new life. Unfortunately she’d left this behind, the letter Fred wrote her.

Written for the Writing 101 Day Five Prompt: You discover a letter on a path that affects you deeply. Today, write about this encounter. And your twist? Be as succinct as possible.

Part 1 – Loss

This post is a few days overdue. Apologies.

“Your daughter has an eating disorder. It’s most likely caused by…”.

She tuned out the rest of what the doctor was saying. She didn’t need to hear it from him. She didn’t have an eating disorder. She just didn’t want to eat. It happened three months ago. She finally got tired of food. Everyone made jokes at first. “You don’t want another helping? Let me just pinch myself to see if I’m dreaming.” They could joke all they wanted and pinch as well. She was done with food. Her parents were the only ones who didn’t laugh. They were worried as soon as they noticed the change. Countless questions and probing brought nothing out. She wouldn’t say why. How could she? How do you explain a feeling you don’t understand yourself? How do you tell someone that you’ve given up trying to fill the emptiness inside you when your body looks full?

Written for the daily prompt: Write about loss.

This is the first part of a three part post. More soon.

Petit Paradis Blanc

The cafe stood in an inner courtyard, surrounded by a scenic verandah on all four sides. Looking at the place from outside, you’d only see a somewhat weathered residential building, and walk past without a second glance. But if you knew you had to make your way down a little further, turn into the alley next door, and walk in the small black side door, you’d find yourself in a rather charming cafe. It was called “Petit Paradis Blanc” (Little White Heaven), and you’d understand why from the moment you stepped in. Everything was white and everything was heaven. The steady columns that held up the surrounding verandah, the wrought iron tables and chairs, the place settings, the server’s uniforms, and even the tiles were all in blanc. The 7-feet tall tree that stood in the middle of the courtyard was full of white leaves that managed to hide most of its dark bark. The people, however, stood out. Everyone wore pleasing blues and greens and pinks in pastels. It was the unofficial dress code here. I once asked Mrs Rosa why everything was white. She told me it was so that people could feel calm, and she could see them shine as they found their inner peace. It all seemed very much like something out of a novel, to be honest.

Written for the Writing 101 Day Two Prompt: A Room with a View.