the tides, part 9

Note : The following is a continuation to a story this author started writing last year. While he believes in the idea of intertextuality, he is also a firm believer of the concept of intellectual property, and will invoke his rights under the Copyright Law to the full extent, should his story be subjected to acts of plagiarism
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Why does it have to be this way, Theo? This boat, this trip—what else am i to endure just to reclaim your heart? I don’t deserve you walking out on me just like that. i don’t deserve all the hurt feelings you hurled at me—coz i have, and i am, hurting too; hurting still, as much as you are. You think you’re the only one who’s losing sleep over all of this? You think you’re the only one dying a little each day, when you realize you’re all alone, facing and greeting the wall good mornings upon waking up? God knows, i haven’t asked for this. It all happened so fast; i bet you didn’t see this one coming, too. It seems to me he just appeared out of nowhere just to mess up our perfect little world. I won’t claim complete innocence and say i didn’t fall for his charms, even for a bit. Yes, he is attractive; yes, he pulled me in right away with his devil-may-care attitude. But you have to believe me when i say i won’t exchange our years together for a mere wink, attitude or charm. All the pretty boys in the world could easily have those and flaunt them, but none of your tenderness that make you beautiful; none of your caring, none of those loving looks you throw at me from across our dinner table after our teasing bouts. Whatever you think you saw that afternoon, it’s not what you think it was, Theo. Come back to me, please. Come back..

The sudden surge of the shrieking instantly pulled Clem out of his stupor and into the present. The gulls have appeared, seemingly, out of nowhere—carried by the gentle tides that now began a tender, rythmic rocking of the boat. Laced with the noise of the gulls flying overhead came another sound, faint at first, then steadily gaining ground with his consciousness. He had heard this before; at a time when he was happiest—in this exact same place, about a year ago. Ave Maria. Ave Maria sung with passion by the faithful throng gathered at the beach. Closing his eyes, he could very well see hundreds of candles lit, thrust to the heavens—their combined light slowly gaining prominence against a darkening sky; he could very well feel that familiar hand taking its place beside his, the warmth of its palm and fingers locked with his, in one glorious moment just before the rain of red and white petals eclipsed his view of the Blessed Virgin; local children running barefoot in the sand, squeezing through the crowd to get a closer look of the spectacle; beaming, happy faces. The din of the song echoed loudly in his ears. He somehow knew that if the sound and these images stayed inside his head even for just a mere second longer, he’d lose his outward calm. He had to snap out of it, and fast. He willed his eyes to open. The boat is now inching its way towards the shore, gently carried by the tides and the memories of the place. Just a little ahead, towards the direction of the boat’s mast, he could see tiny dots of light slowly coming alive in the gathering dark.

Candle lights.

to be continued



image source : http://30daysout.wordpress.com/2008/09/24/lights-out-the-night-the-lights-went-out-in-southeast-texas/