Tulip

a fantasy on the universality of beauty and despair

"I have something for you as a parting gift"

he continued taking out the collage from the backpack

"i started making this the other night, and finished it at my room this morning after you passed by earlier, giving me the missing pieces. Its strange, I made a foolish, adamant decision that i'd take it on the way back to college and would give it over only if i met you while. i didnt know what to do with it otherwise. but ,somehow i was so assured that i was destined to meet you for a third and final time".

he smiled bright through her pleasant, amused, smile cocktail. 

"this is so unbelievable"

she looked prettier in the daylight that survived the canopy of pine trees, disappearing in her brown curls and re-emitting in her hazel eyes with a divine heat, only to be felt at a secret corridor in his fast beating, full, heart. 

"and strange"

they both coninued like mutual echos that the particular stretch of time was so full that it was helpless to carry any information in the world or outside it other than these words. 

she was examining the collage he held infront of her with her amused eyes while his eyes were involuntarily pointed at the black tiny mole inches up from her knee that revealed itself from the shadow of the black skirt as she stepped on the bike's pedel - the shiny black skirt with an avant garde embroidery along with those fancy ups,downs, vortices and folds all over its body, he wondered, men how so ever reluctant to appreciate it would do so at such instances when their heart is so thirsty that they could savor the essense of beauty from every seemingly unimportant entities. 

"what do you think?"

"i am not sure" 

she tried to looked through his eyes.

"i feel a tulip in my belly button" 

it returned to him the same curiousity that he missed for more than a decade which made him dismantle an old grand pa clock to find the source of time, and the child demanded - 

"i want to see it"

with a similar, unusual excitement, she tucked up her light greenish-blue top, one could count four of her ribs, prominant at the held breath and the greenish blue veins of the flat belly that curved inwards the waistband. 

there it was!!.

the tulip was as dark as the clotted viscous blood in the streets in the outskirts of neruda's conscience, having its petels opening up, covering the silver stud that pierced the boundary of her naval. it had a well of darkness in the middle, from where no light ever returned.  

leaning on her bike's handle, he bent over for a closer look

"does that hurt?" 

she didnt answer.

he tried to look up at her face, but it was the permeable canopy of pine trees that faced him from beyond his eye's focus, casting a blury shadow that stroked his cheeks along the quite wind of june through a stagnant, translucent vapor that assumed the shape of her face. 

a heavy sigh left his chest as the tulip was sucking all means of existance from her.

he ran away from there as a possessed human body.

It laid there in the lawn biside the bike route, the bougettes, books, the backpack and a fallen bicycle.

An old couple went past on their bicycles in the evening, without giving a particular notice to the orphaned stationary or the bike or the tulip that was about to droop. 

Author's Note

its one of my first attempts to write a short story in English

Reviews

[Aislinn]

This is weird and interesting. I'm not entirely sure that I understand the point that you are trying to make.

If I were you I would look over it again as some of the grammar and punctuation is off. Seeing as it looks like English isn't your first language, I wouldn't be too worried. But it could use a little work.

Overall the imagery was powerful. I enjoyed it even if I didn't understand it.

[Yawny]

thank you very much Aislinn. I didnt think i will be read n reviewed this soon, and this is amazing that people care what even newbies got to say here.

though i learnt English in high school, I took up the language seriously and started reading and communicating only a couple of years ago, and till your comment i presumed the writing to be flawless at least for the language[and so for even for this comment =) ], but somehow i am not surprised that i got it wrong, which happens quite often.

To be talking about what i was trying to convey here, i wasnt trying to make a point or to express a philosophical view point, and yes, one might be finding it a little ambiguous while trying to make some sense out of it.
last year somewhere in the Alps i got to see a Tulip flower which had the color of say, thick clotting blood. It was just too intense, it could fit least with the way i defined a flower, it was much more than that. if my language was powerful enough i would have described just the Tulip. thus i had to put up an artificial setting around it which sounds at times lame even to myself. Think i am writing a bit too much for a reply, its just that i am excited.
Thanks again. Now I am compelled to improve on my shortcomings in writing and language that the time you ve spent on my page should never go worthless.