Passion

Got a little inspired from a novel by Victor Hugo :)

Holding on to a concrete edge of the spectacular cathedral, he searched the crowd, searching…hoping…praying, that he’ll catch a glimpse of her. Finding footholds on the exterior of the church, he expertly lowered himself to a structure that jutted out and gripping an iron railing, he swung himself onto a small stone balcony that had three gargoyles overlooking the bustling city of Paris. He pushed his tattered hood back so he could view the wondrous sight of Paris in 1482 before him.

 

“Where are you?” he thought impatiently. He scanned the crowd of people who were going about their daily business on the fair morning of Thursday. He clutched his chest tightly, a soft moan fluttered from his chapped lips. Lustrous black hair, satin brown skin, the red skirt that danced in the wind like flames. The brazen beauty that twirled and sang. The gypsy girl adored by all. Esmeralda, the girl who stole his heart.

 

He swung over the railing and descended a little lower, not daring to remove his eyes from her. This strange observer was overtook with a powerful force. A force that can make or break a man. A force that made him suffer so much he wanted to die, yet knew he couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing her. His eyes followed her as she danced, spinning and singing songs of adventure and the hills of Andalusia. His disfigured face was at peace; his entire being was devoted to focusing entirely on her. Her face, shining with youth and joy, broke his heart.

“Esmeralda,” he whispered. A single tear crept down his scarred cheek as he forced himself to come back to reality, away from his dreamy state of mind. His body slumped forward, his hunchback looking grotesquely large. He quietly wept as he thought of how Esmeralda could never be his, nothing more than a friend.

He thought of the day she saved him at the Feast of Fools, when he was chained and weakened with thirst. Amidst the jeers and mockery of the people around him, shouting, “How ugly!”and “He fits the role of King of Fools perfectly!”, he tried to shut them out. He tried to find solace in a quiet space in his mind, to tune them all out. Yet one brave stranger endured against the cruelty of men. It was her. Esmeralda was the only kind soul who had the courage to give this monster a drink of water. She wasn’t scared by his disfigured body, his atrocious appearance. This spectacle, this amazing creature sparked something in him. And at that moment, he fell deeply in love with her, for she was the only person in his life to show him any sort of kindness.

And this young woman entranced the heart and mind of the tortured man. Though he knew she loved the strong and attractive soldier, Phoebus, he still dared to love her dearly. Continuing to gaze after her, he smiled bitterly. “Curse the day my parents bore me into this world. Curse Mother Nature and the tragic flaw she bestowed upon me. Curse my fate, as my ugliness is an insult to Esmeralda’s beauty.” After thirty minutes, he ascended back onto the stone balcony and into the cold, dark depths of the cathedral. Quasimodo, his name was. Quasimodo, the famed bell ringer. Quasimodo, the hunchback of Notre Dame.