I know I have been quiet, so someone decided to break the silence for me. Today, we break the norm.
Thanks to The Rackster (follow that link for a journey like you wouldn't believe), L.O.P lets someone in to her space. Enjoy the Sunday creativity :-)
"Have you ever been to New
Orleans?" She asked.
"No."
"You'd love it. The place is alive
with music. The jazz fills your ears and your soul dances."
As she spoke there was a fire in her eyes.
A little flame that danced. A gleamer of hope in those big glassy beads. She
was engulfed by her own words. Trying to lose him in a city she was all well
too familiar with. Her hands were up mimicking the dancing souls her eyes
closed transporting her into another world. She was a free spirit. Her name was
Louisa.
She opened her eyes and threw her arms
around his neck. Planting a soft kiss on his rugged cheek. She loved the
scruffiness. It itched but in a comforting way. She looked deep into his eyes
as if she were searching for his soul.
"Let's go to New Orleans." She
whispered.
She let go of his neck grabbed his hand
and led him into a little store along the cobbled streets. She did not wait for
a response because she needed none. Hers was not a question but a statement.
They were going to New Orleans and that was that.
"Here this hat will look good on
you." She said as she put a blue
and white polka dotted Lincoln type hat on his head.
He looked into the mirror on the wall and
staring back at him was this hulk of a man. Standing at about six foot two
inches and layers of muscle stacked on his frame.
"I look like a clown on steroids
Louisa."
His voice was deep and coarse. His lips
thinned into a smile. He broke into a little dance; like he was Scandinavian.
They both laughed. A few people in the shop stopped to look. They had probably
never seen a man so huge acting so silly. It was amusing at the same time
disarming. They left the store, hat in a bag, arm in arm and walked into the
sunset. The red glow of the sun kissed the cities skyline in front of them a
city that came alive in the dark. Their city was much like New Orleans only it
wasn't. They were in love only that they weren't.
It had been ten years since they walked
out of the store into the sun kissed city's skyline. The sounds of their steps
on the cobbled street still vivid in her mind. She was in New Orleans he
wasn't.She went alone and hoped he would follow. He never did. For ten years
the music that came alivein her mind when they were together was dead. She was
surrounded by all she ever wanted but she was alone. Her soul no longer danced.
She wondered if he was happy or if he ever looked for her or at least wonder if
she was okay.
Shortly after they stepped out of the
store his smile disappeared. He was stern and had a worried look in his eyes.
He couldn't hold her stare like he used to as his eyes kept darting to the
side. He was hiding something and she could feel it.
"What's wrong Gerald?" Louisa
asked.
Looking back she wished she hadn't. Maybe
her asking had to do with everything that happened. Maybe if she had ignored everything she
wouldn't have burst the bliss that she had come to know.
"This, you, everything." Gerald
replied.
"It's not what I want." He
continued.
His arms were on her slender shoulders. In
a weird way she felt reassured. They were breaking up right there on the
cobbled streets. She could hear her New Orleans music fade in the distance. She
wanted to cry but couldn't. She wanted
to speak but words failed her. A dry
throat and stinging eyes were her solace. Her breathes were now short her voice
almost hysterical.
"B...B...B...but.." She
stammered.
He let go of her shoulders and walked away
across the street into a crowd of black suit wearing business men. He didn't
blend in he stuck out in his red leather jacket but he walked until she could
no longer see him.
"Come back." Louisa croaked.
"Please."
Her eyes were a waterfall and they flooded
her small round face. Those beady glass balls a shade of red. Her hands were in
her hair holding it up scrounging her palms into fists and tugging hard. She
couldn't believe what just happened. She
didn't want to believe. She wanted someone to wake her up from a bad dream. She
never woke up. Her dream became her reality. She moved to New Orleans chasing
the music. She never caught it.
The streets were lined with bell bottom
wearing men adorning striped pull necks and black suspenders over them. They
were dancing and playing all kinds of instruments. Laughter filled the air and
the streets were full of dance. It was some sort of festival. Louisa was right
in the middle of it in a white cinderella dress. She turned with the music
swirling the edge of her skirt in majestic whirls and twists. She sang so loud
her voice rising into the City's already jubilant air. At last he had
forgotten. Finally the music caught up
to her. She bumped into some stranger and stepped back to apologise taking his
hands into hers forcing him to dance. She looked up and stopped. That red
leather jacket brought back memories. It brought back tears. She was both happy
and sad. She was choking on both nostalgia and grief. It was Gerald. He came
finally to New Orleans.
"What did I tell you hmmh"
Louisa said
She moved in circles around him holding
his hands smiling and laughing. Her eyes still large and glassy. Her
face still
small and round her smile still golden.
"You were right Louisa." Gerald
replied
She then let go and walked into the crowd.
Leaving him mesmerised searching frantically for her. But she was gone. Lost to
the city lost to the music. She was New
Orleans. He was not. Sometimes some loves are meant to be lost never to be
found and that's exactly what happened.
He lingered around the streets for the next few weeks. Walking around in
his lazy strut and red leather jacket.
Hoping to catch a glimpse of her one more time. But she was gone.
Probably bringing music to someone else's life. It had been too long. He felt
foolish for thinking otherwise. But a man can wish. He had things to say. Like
how he came back to the cobbled streets every day hoping to catch her. How he
heard she had flown into New Orleans and he flew in two days later. Searching
for her. How the city had been cruel and there paths never chanced upon each other.
How he danced at every festival. How he had a wardrobe of red leather jackets
because he knew that was the last thing she remembered. He carried these words
to his grave. When the music finally died forever.
Beautiful
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