Sunday, October 12, 2008

Autumn night

Autumn night. Light drizzle, so light that you barely notice it without the light at the door, light meeting the droplets for just a fraction of a second before they come down and rest on the gravels laid out on the path way, much like the way people come in touch with people in busses, trains, poker tables and dinner parties as they go about their day to day comings and goings. Up ahead you see the line of the forest and the thick shadow they cast on the field and then you see the thin strip of moonlight making a clearing in the dark and then you see the barely visible outline of a man, on the moonlit path, obscured by the drizzle and the moonlight and the forest shadow – an outline, clearly out of place, yet strangely befitting with the surreal backdrop. And you get to thinking if you know it from some place, if you’ve just casually passed it by on your way, or seen it standing outside your window, in a dream, or found it walking alongside you on your way back home.

And you get to thinking what it is doing here, on this particular autumn night, on this night with soft moonlight and light drizzle. Then again, where would it if not here?

Think about all the things that were done right and came to nothing. Think about all the wrongs that got you here, now, nowhere at all. Think about the night walks through the city streets, village paths and lonely beeches. Think about the hands shaken, loves made, promises broken and faces forgotten. And then think how little is actually ever forgotten. Think about all the lines, filling up the pages, crowding the mind and clouding the memories. And then think how much of it was actually remembered.

You were not supposed to be here tonight but then again, where would you be? There were so many doors open and so many paths waiting and so many voices calling but then again, were there ever any? There is but one way you could have taken. There is but one place you could have been, tonight.

So that’s what you are, a faint shadow of a man, on a moonlit autumn night, caught between the dark gloom of the forest up ahead and the door closed behind. And you are right where you were supposed to be.


homiCidal_nAnNy said...

It is my great regret to inform you all that yesterday, the weatherman has left us for good. He died in a horrible yet hilarious car accident. It was a Lesney Matchbox toy car(collectors edition) that he accidently stepped on to, made a long swing in the air, a 360 degree back flip and landed on his head. The last words out of his mouth were “Yes. Yes I know the truth now. God is a mistress and the rest is …[gurgling]”. Although some say he meant to say God is a mystery but the truth will now rest with the great weatherman.

Weatherman said...

with even greater regret I'd like to confirm the news posted here by homicidal nanny was actually right. Weatherman, if alive would probably be able to dispute the authenticity of the message with a clever retort. Unfortunately the dead one is actually too dead to do any of that and is presently busy haunting the toy car that brought about the tradgedy, with a vengence. So watch out for stray toy cars near your stairs one of these days cause that may, try to stage the same scene over and over again till it gets the real homicidal nanny, (who informed sources believe to be the one putting the car there in the first place). Oh heck...this dead guy is way to drunk to type now and would like to go back to its grave. tata!