Dearest Charcoal Blacks,
Taking a pen as I sit here on the table, with hundreds of words I can’t find the right one to start with. Where to begin isn’t the problem but how to begin, should I confess straightaway about my profound love for you or must I first tell you when it all began. I wonder if I fell in love the very day I saw you for the first time, while you carried those water cans too heavy to slip on every step, or the time you looked at me wiping mud from your cheeks. Maybe it happened the day I saw you cry for I had never felt a pain so heartbreaking.
Those eyes, those charcoal eyes, held me and I haven’t been able to shake myself free. I’m not suppose to think of the charcoal black sea behind those eyes of yours but I’m afraid I have lost touch with my sanity, or whatever that is there to bide one by laws and rights and wrongs.
Everyday you and I talk through our stares, smiles, smirks and shrugs; a whole language we have built and yet no one has heard a word. These deep conversations we have sharing her heart out from far away mean more than the countless hours spent talking to people who know me, but not my soul.
I admit even though all I know is your name and I’m sure you know mine, I feel like I have known you for years like even before I knew myself. Do I sound too hopelessly lost? Maybe I would when I’ll tell you one day I’m going to walk up to you and give you this letter, smile and even ask you if we can go for a dinner sometime. I can almost picture your charcoal black widening with a shock but not for long, as they would soon twinkle and shine allowing the creased lines around your lips to turn into a grin.
Do you suppose we can ever find ourselves a world where it would be easy to not be afraid? I can’t go back to the life I knew before I found your face, your serious brooding pale face with a certain kind of beauty that has become a dagger inside me. If anyone takes it out it would be the end of me; I can’t get you out now.
I love the way you laugh, often to let me know you are there, while pretending to talk to those around you. Sitting on the window with a pen and paper I do my best to draw you, but even my best fails to capture the devilishly charming air of yours. Chewing your lips, frowning, laughing and lost, forgive me for I have captured you and buried you in pages hidden in my copy of Mein Kampf. I can picture you laughing hysterically and raising your left eyebrow to this scandal.
Some days you sit alone waiting for your turn while others get waters filled in their plastic cans, chattering enough to not care for the time, leaving you and I with couple of extra minutes to talk in our silence but you don’t look up. I have often wondered the pain you hid when keeping yourself busy in smoke, focusing your charcoal blacks towards the other side of road not meeting my watery blues, I wonder if the pain, keeps you up at night like it does to me. I find no solace and sleep until I see you again, until I look into those eyes throwing a mischievous eyebrow at me daring me to say a word a real word, for then I know you are no more hurting at least not enough to disappear in vain.
I can’t recall how many times I have taken a step forward and two steps back, exercising hundreds of them, at one place not finding enough courage to call out to you. Do you believe I’m like them, one of them who call you nothing but a Jew like you have no name? I so hope my darling you know me enough to know I would never hurt you or belittle you like them; for all this heart of mine desires is the freedom to run to you and kiss those dazzling charcoal blacks that have imprisoned my heart, my flesh, my soul.
One day, my dear I will break the ropes, take those steps and pull you into my arms and kiss you deeply but not before I tuck back those loose strands of hair that often fall as a playful curtain over my favorite charcoal blacks teasing me, until your fingers find them and place them behind your ears. I promise I would love you, all of you, those charcoal blacks, those teasing brown hair, the frown and freckles, the lustful eyebrows and the hurt you wear all day, I will kiss them all one day.
Wait for me, even if you don’t get this letter, please wait for me.
Madly in love with you!
The curious blue eyes from the window.
Inspired by this music…
I sat there with a glass in my hand staring at the faces I didn’t know too well, it was a party I went with a friend of a friend. All I wanted was free liquor and maybe someone to take home for the night. Music was good, so was the crowd. I scanned faces but none appealed, not even the most breathtakingly beautiful ones. Something was off, my own self perhaps.
And then she walked right in front of me. Tears dripping slowly, like a painfully beautiful river flowing under the starry night. There was a man, they held hands yet they were fidgeting with unsaid words and said ones all at the same time. I looked, I stared. She stared back. I didn’t flinch, I was held right there by her. Pinned by her gaze. Something she wanted to say, something I wanted to hear. She stood there staring and I sat there shivering.
A sly smile, an excuse, she whispered words and walked away from him towards the corner. Not far but right there in my vision. She wanted me around, I thought, and so I did with my eyes. Sobbing silently she stood with back of her head pecking the wall and I knew I was gone, from her mind and sight. While she battled her demons I fought my urge. Strangeness hovered, my throat dried, ache strangled what I felt for the first time a heart inside me.
Lowering my eyes, I touched my chest. There was something living inside the cage and I felt it like I never did before. Raising my eyes I found hers again, even the curtain of tears did nothing to diminish the magic pull. I followed with steps, slowly but steady. We stood hands apart, nobody was breathing. Cornered and next to the wall, we did nothing but stared right into each other’s eyes.
Beating too hard a noise broke the silence, a heartbeat. Mine or hers, was hard to know from whose inside came the thunderous sound. And then the world drowned; the noise, heartbeat, the ache, the eyes and the face vanished, as she held my face in hers and kissed me consuming all my reclusiveness.
Just like that she walked away, not before she kissed my eyes that I failed to open even when she was gone. Finding my balance against the wall, I smiled and cried all at the same time. I knew we were going to meet again, I knew I was ruined for life, I knew I would go home alone tonight and for every other night until her eyes find mine, again.
So this happened yesterday. The story. Slept too late but was worth it. This song below set the mood for the scene.
I live so many stories in my head. Mine, of the characters I read about, the characters I write about and of the the people around me…!!!!
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I wish I was the friend or the cousin or the neighbor of the protagonist and not her. I wish I was, just one of those who in the end get to give few insights into her story and, not the story in itself.
I don’t speak or understand French but I can’t stop listening to this Edith Piaf song. It sounds so beautiful and lovely. It feels like one of those many background scores of my own story.
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A part of me has accepted that there is no light at the end of the tunnel which is why I act the way I do. Few days ago, we had one of our annual Chess tournaments at Gotham and I struggled at my first match finally losing badly in the second one. I kept telling myself its because I haven’t played for a long time.
Truth is I don’t believe in myself anymore. Honestly, I’m good I’m so good that I would make the opponent I lost to walk away within 5-10 minutes, top. But the thing is I kept telling myself, I won’t be able to make it, its okay I haven’t played for months now, I’m rusty, I didn’t get chance to practise etc etc etc. I gave myself all BS I could give to not feel bad about losing even before the game started.
So, instead of being ‘Bring it on’ I was like ‘Just don’t lose badly’.
Why it matters? It does. I kind of take Chess very seriously, specially this tournament. It breaks my heart even when I lose in semis or finals which are usually my spots, but losing in the staring of it against a guy who says ‘I have been looking forward to play against you’ because he thinks I’m a legend…Dude, I know how many times I died inside me that night.
I promised myself I would proofread my story, send it to a publisher, but I didn’t. I played the worst chess match of my life and I was totally prepared for it.
Why? Because I don’t believe in me anymore.
The story needs proof reading; I’m kind of all busy and exhausted lately.
I am rusty; don’t even remember when was the last time I played Chess.
EXCUSES excuses EXCUSES…
It’s like world is closing on me and I can’t even find energy to get up and get out of the mess. Truth is I’m not sad right now, don’t even know why the post. Guess, I just needed to talk about it to make myself accept it.
I don’t believe in me anymore.
Seriously, be mean, be rude, be insulting, be anything. Don’t go silent on me please.
If I was Katniss Everdeen, trust me with this attitude I would have been the first to drop dead. You don’t fight with a white flag tucked in your pocket and somebody needs to remind me that. Tris Prior didn’t survive part 1 by saying ‘Oh! I’m a Divergent and I don’t I know what to do. It’s okay If the Erudite finds me and kills me.’
You do know what Captain Karen Emma Walden said in Courage Under Fire…NO SURRENDER.
Even Peter Parker stopped being Spiderman when he stopped believing in himself. Remember the big fall from the web rope thing with that ring? The thud was bad. I kind felt the that thud in that Chess match.
I want to dedicate this song to the faithlessness crawling all over my mind and body…
Oh Julie, Oh Julie
I haven’t been able to get these words out of my head since last night, since I finished reading Code Name Verity. I have never cried so much over a book, never. In fact, I couldn’t manage through last 47 pages without sniffing and crying and sobbing. Page 285 broke my heart forever, I don’t think I can ever recover from it.
I remember going to bed with tears in my eyes when I finished Moon at Nine, but I don’t remember crying this bad on any book.
Oh Maddie, Oh Maddie
Elizabeth Wein has written a master piece with everything from WWII, Nazis, true friendship, time testing love, courage, revenge, death and loss, all weaved so beautifully into words that ripped through my heart. I dont know if she got enough credit for this one. I would like to tell her what a lovely piece of fiction she has given to us.
Dear Elizabeth Wein,
I have no idea if you relate more to Maddie or Julie or the poor Engel, I don’t know who was your favorite character when penning this book down, I don’t know if you cried as much as I cried when that bus was on that bridge and I don’t know if I can ever get these names and people out of my head, but I do know you have done a bloody too good a job with the story, the characters, the name, the emotion and thrill.
Just want to thank you for letting me meet Queenie and Maddie.
Just a fan of your book,
If the story and drama wasn’t enough, this book has some amazing lines and oh the humour…
It’s like being in love, discovering your best friend
Till last page, I hoped, I prayed, I begged. But…Oh Maddie, Oh Maddie.
I am not good with reviews, never have written any so all I can say is that Code Name Verity is one fine piece of historical fiction with enough drama, action, pain and emotions to change your life. All I can say is READ IT, READ IT.
It was around 2 o’clock when I decided to finish this one chapter and sleep but when I reached that one page I couldn’t sleep, how could I. I knew I had to finish it now.
Fly the plane, Maddie
Even if it meant spending my Friday with my head in my hands and a burned out brain. I did spend spend my Friday like a zombie but I couldn’t help it.
Damn! You Nazis. In every book, you make my stomach churn but this time you went way too far. Dammit.
There 4-5 books that i would re-read again and this one goes on the top of the list.