Paramount

A Story by Sami Khalil

Love story...

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Paramount BY Sami Khalil

(Love story)

Suddenly, the search has begun in earnest. Time was of the essence. Aging without a companion led to frustration, but brought focus. Her biological clock was ticking, so to speak.

“We need to live fully, not merely exist,” Mary poignantly said to herself. “Finding the true self is a worthy endeavor, but so finding the right companion; one who will share life’s burdens, struggles and keen appeals,” she continued. She knew somehow, although searches can be elusive for some, with roads paved by blood and sweat, nuanced with delicate shadings, one mustn’t give up the dream through awareness. Miracles do happen, while mysteries bring to frenzied mind the wildness of turmoil.

She wanted to come alive in the waves of love, to sparkle like diamond, and have a banquet of wistful romances. “Is she flawed? Is she unappealing? Is she not a rollicking individual? were some thoughts exploding into her head, exploring answers.”

Some friends had told her to polish herself and her image. Play it as a little stubborn one for men don’t like an easy catch, as elusiveness could be the crux of the game. Like fishermen who greet their mornings with anticipation, they leave behind a sunset of glad tidings or indignation. Mary’s thoughts were always entwined with the commission from the dream world. Such authorizations catapult her hopes to confer some knighthoods. She understood that some hearts are hidden from plain views while others are read clearly on faces, in quite frightening manners.

In the spur of her moment, she wrote a fictional love letter addressed to an unknown, signed it, placed it in a bottle, then buried it in a special place beneath the foaming shoreline’s sand (my heart spilled over as the waves on shorelines looking for you adrift in my silence and bottled emotions), was one of the lines in that letter. If it was meant to be, then the tide will carry it to the deep. If not, then it will be buried there till the wrinkles of time forgotten. From her vantage point by the ocean there was the vast expanse, the stardust dreams in her eyes; the cluster which some days were dimly lit behind clouds. From the height of happiness to the depths of despair, dreams accompany our struggles.

One day, she went to take her daily rendezvous, checking up on the bottle. Consumed by the sunset in her distant thoughts, she heard a boy’s loud cry, a drowning one. She rushed to save him, with raw emotions unraveling. As she did and brought him shore side safely in her arms, there stood a gentleman gaining height, middle-aged, with gratitude and passion in his eyes. Although rough and tough looking, an enchanting countenance saddled him in her mind’s eyes. His smile birthed something effortlessly, strangely seeping within, doused in passionate fuels. No mundane words were necessary for the resplendence of the moment was etched in eternal transience. Her dormant dreams leapt from her diaries’ pages with whispered desires and secrets.

He sighed a sigh of relief, praising her for the heroic act. He shared his widower’s status with her, how hard it is to raise an only child alone. Wife had died from a rare cancer turning his world upside down. The child needed a mother now. Suddenly, the ocean’s ageless swipes woke her up, kissing her past feet, overworking a hooked sunset. With salty flows, adding beauty to her sadness, his eyes bore a message: “Will you marry me?” “Yes,” was unleashed as waves crashed and water boiled the seagulls’ expectations.

Their names were scrawled on the same bottle she used after death and cremation, buried in the same spot as willed by both, happily done by the son in his mourning. One day, the tide arrived, carrying it to the deep.

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© 2019 Sami Khalil

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Reviews

Phillip W Parsons

Just lovely! One of my favorite authors is Ray Bradbury, for his elegant and cinematic sentences I could read them over and over. This piece has so many unexpected adjectives which pull at the imagination and, again fill the page without being wordy. Nicely done!
A bit of advice, "Their names were scrawled..." should be a new paragraph, perhaps with a space, indicating the importance of that last stanza.
Excellent!