#having to draw Okay Perspective while everything is at an angle is a special ring of hell on its own | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lightsapphire · 7 years

Text

Soulless

For my dear @chxngsey , a friend who has been here with me for so little, but already means so much. I wish you happy birthday and for happiness to be with you every day, even when things don’t come into place quite the way you want them to.

I wrote this with you in mind, and my hopes are that you’ll enjoy reading it! So again, may you have a happy year filled with success and lots of smiles.

With love,

Maria

***

‘Adrianne, dear, what’s with that scowl on your face? You don’t want to come with us?’

My brows shot up at Mrs. Paton’s remark and sweet voice; it really was unexpected coming from her, who usually sounded like a loud, dying whale and had the attitude of a burning spatula to seem a tad concerned or observant. And she probably noticed the coy surprise on my face as well, because suddenly her face turned a shade darker. Damn it.

‘Do you want me to arrange you something else while the others go see the exhibition?’ The menace of her words was clear to my ears, but instead of feeling fear or shame, I was just slightly disgusted. I knew she hated me, but to be this obvious? She was supposed to be a professional, not a kindergarten kid.

‘No, miss, trust me, I do want to come with you,’ I answered her ‘offer,’ my voice coated in spikes of salt. She narrowed her eyes at me, and, to be honest, she was starting to look like a whale as well.

Mrs. Paton was my photography teacher, a rather unpleasant woman who had her habits and quirks no one liked. A bit overweight, she was tall and her voice, too, was high-pitched and ringed especially loud. At least she was pretty good at her job, teaching us the basics and then encouraging us to discover the rest in fear of failing the class. Our relationship truly was a special one.

She suddenly clasped her hands together, the sound of it making me jump in my seat. It was looking like this was going to be the end, or so I prayed.

‘Okay, kids,’ – we’re 17 for God’s sake – ‘tomorrow at 8 am we’re meeting in front of the school. Don’t forget to bring your cameras and remember, the subject is soulmates! I think all of you will enjoy it!’ The sweet voice was back, and it was even more annoying now. But at least, my prayers had been heard.

Now only one question persisted: would I be able to survive tomorrow? The doubt was setting in and was cracking my resolve bit by bit. Maybe I should just call in sick? But, still, I had a pride to protect.

###

The next day, it rained. It wasn’t an easy rain, warm like those in summer, but the exact opposite: cold and cruel, with big drops that soaked through your clothes without mercy. The skies were grey, and puddles were lying everywhere, seemingly waiting for you to take a wrong step and fall into their 15-centimeter depths.

And there I was, in front of the school, 15 minutes too early and 2 kilos heavier with all the water my clothes had absorbed. A real scowl had proudly taken over my face, my brows now knitted and my lips bitten with a surprisingly powerful anger. I had my own bothersome habits, what can I say.

The streets were empty, the only sound surrounding me being the strong rain. It usually made me calm, but usually, I was in my bed with a sweet hot chocolate and something to scribble little doodles on. Not the case now, when I could feel my bones slowly freeze and turn to mush at the same time. I was beginning to grow impatient, looking at the big clock that towered our school yard as if it was its fault that seconds weren’t passing faster.

But there was nothing to do, I had to wait; though, from what I knew about Mrs. Paton, I had way more than 15 minutes to wait. And that’s why I was surprised when I saw her approaching me from across the street, carefully looking around as if she was expecting someone to suddenly turn on her.

Her steps eventually reached me, and her eyes were fierce with determination; a suppressed resentment was evident on her face, and it remained clear when she started speaking to me with rushed words. ‘You’re supposed to meet your soulmate today, right?’

Oh, so that’s what was bothering her, what brought her here 10 minutes earlier.

‘Yeah, or at least that’s what the counter says,’ I replied with venom; she probably wanted to warn me that I’m going to get penalized if I were to interrupt the others’ visit with any kind of sudden event. Or, at least, that’s what I thought.

‘You shouldn’t have come.’

‘And why is that, Mrs. Paton?’

‘Because it’ll be crowded, and you might... miss the moment, you know? I’m talking from experience, dear, so, please, go home.’ Her voice suddenly turned soft, and it looked like she really cared for a moment. Then, she saw something behind me, and her usual scowl was back; the sound of footsteps became clear after a few seconds, and she turned away with a last pleading glance.

Disobeying her was one of my hobbies, though; even if I was risking missing the exact moment I made eye contact with my soulmate when our counters both reached zero, I couldn’t just stay at home and wait for the miracle to happen. I wanted it to be special too, even if I had a bad feeling about it.

My parents were both soulless, meaning that when their counters reached zero, they were alone and no eyes met theirs. It was sad, but these things happened from time to time, and no one had the right to change that.

But the biggest problem here was the fact that the child of two soulless had a 70% chance to be like that too, meaning that today was probably going to end with me crying in a corner, hugging a pillow or even mom. A soulmate was all I’ve ever wanted and the chance I won’t have one to match me was terrifying.

###

Museums are usually beautiful places, their architecture impressive and majestic, all high colonnades and spiraled towers, or maybe modern buildings with glass walls, the floors clean and shining, everything gleaming white. But exhibition venues were more than that. They were adaptable, and the art was what made them special; they did not impress with their appearance, but let you discover what they hid behind every corner, on that wall or the other, all ingeniously arranged to create a whole.

Let’s just say that the exhibition we were at was even more than that.

What made it that way was the use of different angles to create perspective over abstract art; no painting or photograph was at 0°, always a bit to the right or with one side pushed away from the walls. It gave you a weird sense of space, and the idea of being here alone, the lights dim and with some macabre instrumental track playing in the background was strong in my mind, appealing me to just sneak in at night. It seemed like my dissociation needed to be fed with creepy situations.

But no, it wasn’t possible to sneak in, if I were to judge by the dozens of bodyguards and security cameras that dominated every corner. It gave me a feeling of being watched, and every sound raised my suspicion levels and made my skin prickle. But eventually, after browsing through the aisles for some minutes, I got used to the slight discomfort and started focusing.

Now, the subject of the exhibition was soulmates as an idea, meaning that every submitted piece expressed the creator’s perspective over the bond between two people whose counters stopped at the same time. Abstraction was used in many of them, depicting different states of love, meetings, and even soulless people. Not surprisingly, the latter were the ones avoided by most people, some too scared to even think of how it was not to have someone.

But I stopped by every one of those, careful to comprehend their implication and to try and ease my fear somehow. I could feel eyes on my back, my classmates’ and Mrs. Paton’s. The pity in their eyes was intense and made me weak in the knees; I wanted to just leave the venue and go home to wait for the soulmate that most probably wasn’t coming, but the fact that I needed that grade kept me locked on the spot. My teeth gritted every time I overheard a whisper. It seemed like Mrs. Paton was the only one to think I’ll meet them today.

And like this seconds passed, then turned into minutes which lazily dragged themselves into an hour or so. I was starting to get used to the piercing gazes as well, and so came excitement. It was buzzing under my skin louder and louder with every work I laid my eyes upon, every idea finding its way into my mind and transforming according to whatever other things I had thought before. The real purpose of this trip was to get inspired, not to capture someone else’s idea at the best angle and to use the lighting in your favor. Mrs. Paton was a smart woman after all, and this was her way of discovering who had potential of becoming something greater.

One particular work, a painting, was the one to catch my eye and make that one flame of inspiration rise in my chest. I could see its colors in the varied shapes that mingled to draw a lonely silhouette, small in a black void surrounding it, encapsulating its vulnerability with protecting hands. A ghostly form was levitating above it, resembling an angel who was crying softly. It was called ‘Endellion,’ a name whose meaning I had once read in a book: fire soul. The silhouette needed the hands to protect it because, in the void, fire couldn’t survive, thus it was unable to reach out for another.

Emotions were now swelling inside me; even its memory was enough to bring tears to my eyes and choking sobs in my raspy throat. I was home, my counter having reached zero hours ago, while I was looking at a photograph of two happy people; everything I wasn’t going to ever get.

Mrs. Paton was the one to tell me, having seen the last second pass away and my eyes locked only on a warm shade or red. No one’s eyes in sight, only many ideas to be consumed by hungry minds.

No eyes in sight.

So she just came up to me and whispered almost inaudibly, ‘Time’s up, dear.’ It was all I needed to start crying.

###

Going to school the next day was a struggle of stopping the wells of tears that became my eyes and getting my shit together enough to at least be able to dress up. Each move hurt, my muscles tensed up from crying all night and lack of sleep. I felt as if a part of me had been ripped off, as if my insides had been replaced by nothing but a hollowing emptiness. But there never was another part of me to be taken away, that was the sad truth.

But when I finally managed to do those two things, I was on my way to school, despite all my inner protests. It was raining again, but it was softer now, as if the skies were taking pity on me as well. Raindrops had stuck on my glasses, and the constellation they drew were the only thing I could focus on. With lead-like sadness buried deep in my bones, every step I took was heavy; it was as if it wanted me to stop, to lay down and wait until I disappeared.

That wasn’t possible, though. I had responsibilities to fulfill, battles to fight and people to meet. Or, at least, that was the advice I got from out school counselor later on, after I had broken down at the sight of Mrs. Paton. Her eyes didn’t hold any of that hatred she used to bear for me; they were just so soft around the edges, her pupils slightly blown. She hugged me and whispered, ‘It’ll pass,’ in my hair, her voice dragging the words in a calming manner. All she managed to do was worsen my crying, but really, I appreciated her effort to comfort me.

And now I was passing the teacher’s school gate, my head down and steps clumsy in some way. Crying had drained all life from me, leaving me numb and unpleasantly distracted; I wanted to escape it all, I didn’t want to see my parents. I wanted to forget who I was for a moment and to believe I had a soulmate for another one.

But then I remembered ‘Endellion,’ with its colors swirling around each other in an insane dance, all the emotions it held beneath its paint, and the tears came back, even more powerful now, mixing with the piercing rain. They were full and hot, racing on my cheeks and leaving burns on them. I had to get back to that painting, it was the only thing that could, at least, ease my pain. And I never was one to ignore my instincts, so I just let my feet guide me through winding streets, until the venue towered over my head, seemingly plain and devoid of beauty. But once I got inside, my soul found its peace, all the torment inside of me gone, forgotten.

I took slow steps towards ‘Endellion,’ passing every other piece with uninterested eyes. All I needed was to see it again, to bathe in the comfort its meaning gave me, the depth of it offering me tranquility to find my lost equilibrium. But when I reached it, I realized someone else thought of it as well.

There was a girl in front of the panel who was watching it with intent, her eyes focused, moving over its expense. She looked young, so much younger than she probably was, and so unlike the weather that accompanied me on my journey here. Her ashen hair fell in rich waves on her broad shoulders, smoothening the sharp edges of her silhouette, curving them, making them warm to the sight. A smile was beautifully painted on her face; she seemed attracted, almost charmed by the colors and shapes in front of her. But what made it all better was the counter on her right hand, clearly showing 00:37. So little until happiness knocked on her door.

Following a whisper of some higher entity hovering above me, my own crying angel, I reached for the camera conveniently placed in my side bag. Things seemed to fall into place beautifully so as seconds passed fluidly, leaving their last mark on her chocolate skin. With the device raised at eye level, I was watching her on the small screen, waiting for her eyes to drift away and greet happiness. She pushed a bang out of her face, her counter coming into sight, so close to reaching zero, so, so close.

1...

And then she looked my way, right into my eyes with those gorgeous hazel irises, shooting bolts of warmth through my body. I suddenly felt so overwhelmed, as if yesterday had never happened, as if my counter was just now fading away from my skin. I let my finger press the button, capturing her almost drunk-like gaze, with blown pupils and long lashes, nicely curved over her eyes.

Finally, fire managed to survive in the void. Finally, my angel succeeded in protecting me.

###

Hours had passed, as fast as those 37 seconds did, watching us smile to each other as they came and went. All those wishes from before, all the sadness, all the fear of being alone, she took them, then left them behind. Her eyes were even more beautiful in the dim light of her room, and her presence was weirdly comfortable. Most would say I was being stupid for letting her take over me so easily, but when I saw the fascination painted on my face mirrored on hers, I knew she was just as happy to have found me as I was.

Simone told me what she was looking for at the exhibition: just like me, she needed inspiration, and now she had found it. She told me about herself, how she was starting uni in a couple of months, how she missed her cat back in Doncaster; her voice was soothing, honey-like with little turns around the words. She held onto words longer than she should have sometimes, dragging them lazily over her lips, and that combined with everything else, her slightly chubby cheeks and warm gaze, the music she had put on the background, they were so perfect. Perfection was something I rarely bragged about, because my standards were never the same with other people’s, but this... happiness had never embraced me more.

Sleep came later on, tugging at the corners of my eyes with lazy hands; she looked the same, with heavy lids and relaxed on the other side of the couch. And eventually we let it take over us, and I forgot about everyone and everything, I just let myself believe that she was all. And she was slowly becoming all, just as I did for her.

###

Morning came, waking us up from an easy slumber, kissing our skin with the first rays of sun in many days. Her smile was there with me as I rushed through the house, and as I finally opened the door to her apartment, and then turned to her for a last greeting. She seemed troubled, as if she was torn between two options, but only for a second. Then, her characteristic peacefulness came back, and she cradled me in her arms, her slightly taller stature offering her an advantage over me. I buried my nose in the crook of her neck, silently inhaling her vague aroma, and she carded her fingers through my hair, softly caressing my scalp.

‘Make sure to come back, ok?’

Then I left, happiness engrained in every fiber of my body, waiting to burst in every second. And it did once I saw my parents at home, their worried gazes smoothening out instantly at the simple words I blurted out the moment I stepped inside the house: ‘I found her.’

###

As I edited the photo I took the day before, finishing it off with a signature on the lower left corner, I thought of Mrs. Paton and how happy she’d be to know that no, I wasn’t soulless, not anymore. But little did I know then, and so much more now, as I finished my story and looked the woman in the eyes. Her expression wasn’t happy, no, it was just hollow and hateful, and her next words took the veil off my eyes:

‘You know, I had hope with you. I thought that maybe destiny will forget about you too. That maybe you could have become something.’ Her words were so, so cold and she looked lost, in some way.

‘W-what do you mean?’ My voice was quivering; the faith I gained in her in two days was rapidly crumbling away at the sight of her blank expression and her words were ringing loud in my ears. I felt like I had been betrayed, even if I knew it wasn’t something I couldn’t have foreseen.

‘People don’t change overnight, Parker. I just thought you were like me, so I took pity on you.’ And then she turned her back to me and left, leaving me dumbfounded and surprisingly... sad. Only then did I realize the meaning of her words, and it became clear to me: she was just looking for the angel of someone else.

She just wanted to connect, but I took all her hope away when I reached out for someone else.

#writing #narrative #soulmates #love #teachers are important #jasper #i lov u man #hope you like it #likw i'm so nervous you don't even know #so so nervous #i tried ok #like it took me a week and a half to do smth but then i wrote this in two days and i was like 'fuck it' and changed my plans and chose this #ah it's 12am i should go to sleep #lmao #HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN #HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY MAN #ALSO I WANNA HUG YOU AND SMOOCH YOU BECAUSE YOU DESERVE IT

7 notes · View notes