MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “description”

Grave intuitions

She knew something was wrong. From the moment she approached, she couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was just not right.

Perhaps it was the feeling of the air. The way her breathing had changed. Or the fact that her heart seemed to race a bit faster.

They used to call her a psychic, for she was very often right in the things she sensed.

Maybe she had a very strong intuition, one that guided her blindly. She was used to following her instincts, allowing the voices inside of her to perform spontaneous actions without knowing why.

But this time there was something grave in what she felt.

Something was terribly different.

They found out how right she was the minute they opened the door.

Reflecting feelings

nathan-sowers-dawn-millers-friend

©Nathan Sowers

It was the only thing left over from the yard sale. And she didn’t understand why. If she could afford it, it would have been the first thing she would spend her money on. It was plain and “normal”, but sometimes what looks simple is more than that. Plus, it definitely had a story. It must have. Nothing so “ordinary” was every what it appeared to be.

As the sun set, she found herself mesmerised by it. The clear reflection of the garden shed had captured her attention.

Or perhaps it was the flickering light that appeared at its window.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

 

A road to a different view

danny-boweman-1

©Danny Bowman

They told him the difficult, winding roads, the ones less travelled are the ones that would lead him to the most beautiful destinations. To places he had never seen before, never even imagined. He decided to take the risk because he wanted some peace of mind.

It was cloudy, perhaps even preparing for rain. And the gravel was rough; he could feel his car panting. But he was determined to go on.

He could see it up ahead. Tranquility was expecting him.

It was as if an entire mountain was waiting for his arrival to show him a different perspective.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

The world in her eyes

https://i.pinimg.com/236x/6a/5b/1f/6a5b1f5af2932b3ae2d9af3ddb9034e4--contactlens-blue-eyes.jpgThe greatest love poems are written in dark nights of silver moons glistening on shattered adolescent hearts. Out of the strongest pain come the most genuine and powerful truths.

That’s what she was reading before she came to meet you. It was what made her tears start streaming again. She was trying. Trying to go on but not wanting to without you.

You could see it in her eyes, the pupils rippling like broken glass. She avoided looking at you because it hurt too much and she didn’t want to let you see the darkness that had overtaken her soul. She didn’t want you to see that, when you left, you drained her of the life you had imbued her with. Yet, she still loved you. She wanted to tell you how much she missed you. You know you felt the same. But for some reason you were both too selfish to admit to what you truly felt.

She had vowed to herself she would melt that wall of ice you had raised around you. She was certain you were meant to be together. You had been through so much. Everyone expected you would end up together. Forever. That’s the way it should go. Instead, while everyone was taking steps forwards, you were making them backwards. Out of miscommunications and bad judgements.

She wanted the world and, in her eyes, that was you.

She still wants that. She may no longer think of you as the super-hero she pictured you would be, but she still hopes deep down you are the tramp-turned-prince she dreams of. She still wants you. But you’re too stubborn to let her in. You know that she fits so perfectly like no other in your arms. In your mind. And in your heart. Every second you let pass without telling her that you’re not thinking of her or lying that it is not true, you plunge the dagger deeper inside. Because she has realised that it is those that can cause you the greatest happiness that ultimately will cause your deepest pain.

The location to unravel

@MCD, Euboia, Greece

@MCD, Euboia, Greece

Imagine this: it’s morning – you know because the alarm clock just buzzed you out of your REM cycle. You have to get up to open the blinds so that sunlight can enter the room. As soon as you open the window, however, three cars begin to honk simultaneously because the driver in the front of the line was too busy sending an SMS to see that the green light had appeared. Seconds later an ambulance siren is heard nearing, so you shut the window in a rush to avoid further noise pollution. You’ll open it again later to allow air to circulate the room. Or maybe even better when you leave.

Now imagine this: you wake up by the rooster three houses down, announcing its morning. Sun rays have already entered the room, warming the bedsheets. You take a deep breath and stretch. You open the window and view the green field that stretches as far as your eye can see. All you can hear is the birds tweeting merrily. The flowers have bloomed granting the scenery a colourful spring touch. And a little further down ducks are happily bathing in the clear river water. You sit outside for breakfast and let your mind unravel. You unwind and feel more relaxed than your two-hour yoga class. You feel something you’ve been yearning for: relaxed.

Where would you rather be?

Life consists of moments and the choices we make leading up to them. Ultimately, we hold the key to our destination. And our physical (and mental) health.

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Unravel

The sting of an aroma

http://m5.paperblog.com/i/52/526166/natural-perfume-notes-suspect-sniffs-pleasing-L-PN6dHO.jpegIt only took a single whiff to feel it in the air. It was intoxicating. It filled your surroundings like a thick cloud embracing every angle of your body, pulling you tight inside its mist.

It was sensual and romantic at the same time. Bold yet timid. It smelled of spring and flowers and fruit, but had a touch of oak and spice.

It was arousing. The kind that seared into your very veins and whose scent drilled through your nostrils, remaining with you hours after you first put it on.

It was the kind of perfume that gave away the woman who wore it.

And he was certain it was her, the minute the aroma stung his nose.

It was hypnotic and poisonous. Just like her.

That morning chime

http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N-xUOWikPkE/U-1H94SMqtI/AAAAAAAAFUI/S4hatweMUvA/s1600/1011121_595395180537127_2018289007_n.jpgThe first day they met she had been woken up by the sweetest chime she had heard. And just outside her window, sat a blue-necked sparrow, as if waiting for her to lift her hand so it could chirp its way right on to it.

She was a farm girl and proud of it. She found comfort among her four-legged farm-mates and was extremely content with simply roaming across the fields, either on horseback, in the mini-truck, or on foot. There was always one animal or other running alongside her and she felt that they could completely understand what she was saying or even feeling. She had yet to feel that with a human.

Until that very day.

It is strange how life throws things at you, just when you’re ready to accept them. Even if you don’t realise that at the time. Because that very morning, she thought nothing of the sparrow’s visit. It was only after weeks, that her mind recalled the symbolism.

That morning she rushed to catch the train to the nearby city. She was tasked with obtaining supplies ahead of the long weekend. Her stalling to admire the little bird, however, meant she lost the early train, which she was supposed to have travelled with. So she took the next one.

He was on that one.

He sat opposite her, mesmerized by the innocence radiating from her eyes.

But she paid no attention. She was still thinking of the sparrow, while staring out of the window at the morning dew.

He coughed, dropped his phone by accident and they bumped heads as they both moved to pick it up. That was all it took to get her talking. Her laughter resounded in his ears for days later. And she was enthralled by how alike they were. He was the son of the neighbouring landowner. They had the second largest estate in the town and she found paradise in his property and in his heart.

The sparrow never returned. At least not until today.

It had played its role. Now it was their turn to keep things moving. A little effort is all it really takes.

Lucky disorientation

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© Jan Marler Morrill

There is a reason she was told not to go out alone, even during daylight. She had no sense of orientation whatsoever, setting out for the beach and somehow reaching the mountains.

On that idyllic island, she realised what her horoscope had described as “luck or fate”.

On that white and blue deserted back alley is where she found him. Standing like a Greek statue under the scorching sun. As if he was waiting there for her to arrive. His eyes shimmering in the sun. She smiled, accentuating her dimples, and she could see him blush.

Her name was Aphrodite.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

The question

http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2DR09KdLUeA/UJzJNw_9YWI/AAAAAAAAGlA/7df7bqIK9kY/s1600/clouds-with-green-nature.jpgIt is truly strange how one question can affect your entire life in ways you can’t even predict. How it can not only change your present, but may alter your future and any expectations for it that you may have had. What is most astonishing is the fact that it may very well be a question that had never crossed your mind before.

Jeremy lay in a hospital bed for the past five hours. He was connected to a machine that helped him maintain a stable breathing rate, supplying him with enough oxygen. His right hand had a long needle taped into it through which serum dripped into his blood vessels. The room was as silent as a temple. Outside the window, a green forest was shielding the stress and clamour of the nearby city. He lay still, to the extent that if you didn’t notice his chest move up and down, you wouldn’t know if he was even breathing.

His body was frail, full of scars and burns. He was lucky to be alive, but he did not know it. His head was wrapped in layers of white bandage, giving him the appearance of an Egyptian mummy. Yet, Jeremy lay there still and calm, as if nothing of what he had just survived had ever happened.

What he did not know, however, was what exactly did happen.

He opened his eyes exactly five hours and twenty-two minutes after he was intubated in that sanatorium.

Standing above his bed was a man sporting a very noble appearance in an elegant grey suit, with a cleanly-cut brown beard, small round spectacles and short hair that betrayed a hint of gray if you looked hard enough. He was observing him, monitoring Jeremy’s every move and patiently waiting for something to happen.

Jeremy had never seen him before.

At least that was what he thought.

But he could be wrong.

Amnesia does that.

As the man spoke, his voice, coarse and deep, echoed across the room, reverberated against the empty white walls.

What are you doing here?

What to do in a blackout

http://www.greentechmedia.com/content/images/articles/blackout_1.jpgThere you are, enjoying a steaming hot shower after a freezing cold day. You take your time, reveling in the warm water running down your shoulders, allowing you to relax and feel rejuvenated after a tiring day. A flicker of light gets you worried for an instance, but you decided to think nothing of it. And just when you lift your foot to get out, the lights go out and you find yourself in a total blackout. You can see absolutely nothing, so it is good you already know your way around. But what do you do?

Firstly, you need to put something around you, if only to soak up the water dripping from you. Then you need to find light of some sort – be it candles, the computer screen (for as long as the battery lasts), or even a torch on your smartphone (see, it is smart after all).

Voices are heard in the corridor, because it is not just your flat that lies in darkness, but the entire building. You half-open the window shutter to witness that the entire block is out of power. This is interesting.

It might take a while to get back the technology you are so accustomed to, so what do you do? You mainly appreciate the silence, acknowledging how much noise electricity actually makes – well, you did have the fridge, computer, television, radio, heater, and tea kettle on.

Then you begin to wonder what would people do without electricity? Sure, you still have your computer and phone working, but for how long? And there is no internet, so basically you are cut-off from that form of communication.

Are you dressed yet? You need to keep warm.

There are noises outside, running up and down the stairs. At least, someone is trying to fix the problem.

You head to the kitchen for a snack. There is no use staying hungry all through this ordeal. Find something healthy, like wholemeal chips. That will keep you busy while waiting in the dark.

You hope the power will return before the battery of your savior-machines bails on you.

And all of a sudden, there is light! You can hear the fridge sounds return, the TV turning back on, the modem signaling it’s on, the computer plugging in, the radio singing, the heater warming up again. You rejoice with the “return to civilization”. You exhale a sigh of relief, as your boredom ends.

But it is short-lived, as the blackout revisits. Apparently, the problem was not fixed.

So you sit and wait, until the power eventually returns for good this time. And as you watch the candle light casts its shadows in the dark, all you can do is acknowledge how addicted we have become to things we take for granted. Things that we can now not live without. Things that may help us, but at the same time have converted us into technology-junkies vulnerable to any situation that does not involve their use. Because, be honest, how many of you took a photo during a blackout to post once the power is back on?

 

N.B. Based on a true incident, Athens, Greece, 30 November 2015 (apart from the blackout selfie).

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