Estella

When writing becomes your only way to face your battles

My Pen, drifting swiftly across the breadth of my Notebook. My legs crossed, the left knee laying below the right. My eye, fixed on this page. I sat there on the bus, unable to sense any of the sounds that hovered around me. My ears plugged, music to its loudest pitch. 

This had become my daily routine; I’d sit on the bus, the back seat, the one in the middle. People always stood in front of me in their numbers, sometimes they were a lot, other times they were less but this bus was always full.

I had been working on this particular novel for a year. My pen first touched down on this notebook, one year ago. 

I completely loved her- Alicia. She was the Perfect one but she had fallen in love with the wrong man. 

I hated him. I had contemplated killing him so many times, though I knew I couldn’t. 

It would only make matters worse, Alicia would feel no better. 

I am prone to having really deep connections with my characters. Every person that I penned was a piece of my heart.

I loathed some, was disgusted by others, loved the rest but Alicia, she was different. She wasn’t just a character, she was real. 

I had designed and developed her based on a real-life person, Estella. A real person that I was to chicken-hearted to talk to for over a year. Estella was the 3D representation of my Alicia or maybe Alicia was Estella’s 2D model.

There was a stop. We’d reached a bus stop and the bus stopped. I picked up my gaze from my notebook, intending to spend a moment looking around and then, I saw her.

My Alicia, My Estella. She’d just crossed the street, she turned around, and her eyes met mine. She didn't see me- the bus had a translucent window, only one of us could see the other.

She had a very broad smile on her face as she turned towards the bus. She pointed her hands to someone, I couldn’t see this person. She then mumbled a few words, inaudible to me as well and then burst into a laughter. She quickly held her bag, it almost fell during the comedy session. 

She bowed and then put her right palm on her stomach. Whatever this person was saying was really funny, she almost fell. She held on to a pole and then said something to this mystery individual as she turned to walk away. I scavenged to see this 'somebody' she spoke with. 

It was like watching a Chinese film without subtitles, I couldn’t hear any of her words, but I could read the emotions in her eyes.
I caught myself smiling. If only I could be a party to this her joy. If I could be the reason behind her laughter, the someone that made her want to fall over and over. I’d plucked my head out of the clouds.

        “Maybe he doesn’t need to die,” I thought to myself.

I had come to a conclusion.

        “It’s time,” I said aloud.

I'd decided to introduce myself to this story. I was going to take one step, two steps actually. 

I would introduce me into both stories. The story I had control over, the one that nodded to my beckon. I was going to introduce a new man into her life. He’d try to win her over; in the book and on the grounds. 

         “Of course!" I exclaimed inaudibly

"...if my 2D representation can get her 2D version, then maybe my 3D sculpture could find a way into her heart,” I thought to myself