Friday, 22 February 2013

The story between the lines

Copyright © Patual

You think my story romantic, you envy me. The pictures you conjure up in your mind, with my words are perfect, paradise. Your face expresses your thoughts. Your dreamy eyes mesmerised by your interpretation of my story.

I left the ugly bits out. Yes, the early morning walks watching the sun play with the clouds and switching off the darkness like a light switch were magical. Yes, the silhouettes of houses and trees as the sun reluctantly sank beyond the now were worthy of a National Gallery artist’s brush.  Yes, the adventures were exciting, childlike and daring!

But does your imagination place my story on summer days and nights? Did you ever consider the reverse of my story canvas? Did you ever see me plodding past that beautiful snow sprinkled engine wearing thin trousers, a jacket far too large with a zip that didn’t work? Did you see my ears almost raw, red from the cold? Did you think where I slept on those icy, windy nights?

No, you probably didn’t imagine me shivering under a thin Salvation Army blanket on the cold iron floor of one of the monster’s empty draughty coaches. You probably didn’t see me arriving and leaving under cover of darkness, keeping watch on the lighted windows for anyone who may suspect my trespassing presence.

The stories I tell you are the good times I recall from the hard times I passed through. 

The stories I keep inside are the hurts and disappointments, which made me strong enough to extract the good!

(Written for  Writing Prompts, February 2013)

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