Saturday, November 05, 2005

Lurking Within

Ok. I've put this together and now I think I may have to think of refining it and make it into an actual story. Hmmm.

He stared into the mirror.


He hated that sight. Of himself. Of the man he has become.

The things he was forced to do. Not so much as forced. But rather out of uncontrolled chain of events. It spiralled out of control.

A monster.

An angry violent monster. The violence of emotions and cunning guile. He remembered the purity of it all. And the rage ignited in the backdrop of a dark moonless night.


Yes, he was the master. The master of games. He played God. And they were mere puppets in his private theatre.

Theatre of dreams.

Dreams gone bad. Nightmares abound. He haunts them with promises he could not keep. Lies. All damned lies. Tantalising lies of hope, with intent of betrayal.

The power.

He had much power. Love was a fair game. He did not believe in love. Love is for the weak, he said.

And now look at him. He looked. He touched the reflection on the broken mirror. What have I become, the man asked.

There were no answers.


She sees it in him. The drive. The passion. Yet, she is afraid. Her instincts tell her that he is too good to be true.

She looks into the mirror.

Maybe I should take a chance. It may seem a but hasty, but she hasn't had this feeling of wanting to reach out for a long time. To reach out and be consumed by fiery desire.

A desire so strong, it frightens her. He can't be monstrous, can he? A man so clearly intellectual and nurturing.

She buttoned up. Blouse with buttons all the way. Always a potent tool. Three buttons undone. Or one button undone. The signals are oh no so subtle.

The buttons can be ripped apart. She shuddered. Admonished herself for such fantasies.

Fantasies can come true.

Ready to go, she told herself. She will take a chance tonight.

The broken mirror now thrown out. But memories of those dark days lingers.

He took his coat, dark brown coat. Covers from neck to mid-calf. The type one can imagine an old French police officer would wear. He closed the door behind him. And walked onto the cobbled street. It was a windy autumn evening. Perfect for a walk.

I wonder what she would be wearing. He thought to himself, vivacious girl this one. So full of life.

She brings out the protective instincts in him. Instincts he never knew he had.

He is careful. Careful of the past catching up on him. He is a changed man. The monster vanquished.

Or has it?

The tunes of an era past its age envelopes the dining area. The crowd is starting to pour in. Seeking comfort from the gusty autumn wind. Low lights. Almost as if the whole place is candlelit.

She could see him walking in. We are similar, she thought. Music from the past touch us, seduce us. That was how we met.

She can't figure him out still. She feels safe with him most of the time.

Yes, most of the time.

But sometimes she can't see past those brown eyes. That brooding nature, alluring yet confusing. What is on his mind at times like those, she wondered.


He could see her. Waiting. She's early.

This is where we first met. An old soul she is, trapped in a delicious young body. He wants her. Far more than that, she is far more than that. Genuine, earnest. Two minds met. He couldn't help but fall. But he won't tell her. It is not a risk he wants to take.

For he fears spiralling out of control. Just as he did. He fears for her.


It was a rainy summer evening when she first saw him. He was what a typical city professional, tie and dark suit. He was paying rapt attention to his business associates, over drinks and sounds from the Rat Pack era.

She hasn't been particularly interested in the corporate type, being from the world of academia. The ones she has met so far are uninteresting.

But his intensity caught her attention. Strong. His glances piercing. She brushed it off.

Then he came to her.


Another day, another deal. Or three. He was on a roll. It's good to be back.

She caught his eye. That evening. Dark brown hair. He first noticed when he heard a laughter. A laughter that makes her all splendid. And those eyes. Clear. So clear.

He walked up to her.


He isn't quite tall. A bit slight. With a small paunch. The result of a workaholic lifestyle. Oh but that voice. Clear, crisp. Commanding. She could just give in.

She would listen for hours. And he would listen for hours. Behind that stern demeanour, she found a kindred spirit. He made her laugh.


He can't get enough of her laughter. And that feminine husky voice. Sultry. God, I'll do anything for her.

A soulmate? Do such things exist? An exquisite beauty. A voice of reason. An equal. She wasn't intimidated at all. He was enthralled. And drawn towards her.

He spent hours with her. Just discourse. Sharing. He was wary of anything more.


"I am a deeply flawed man," he reasoned.

"So that's a no?" she asked to be sure.


Silence ensued.

It hurts him to do this. All he wants to do is reach out, hold her and be a pillar of comfort. But it is a dangerous desire. He cannot let himself go.

"Can we talk about this?"


"What? All this while it wasn't mutual?" aware that there is always a risk of reading the cues wrongly.

God, how does he do this? How can he bring himself to betray these feelings? He adores her. He wants to protect her. Protect.

"Perhaps I may have led you on. I enjoy your company and the interaction. I'm sorry, but I don't see it moving any further."

He told a lie. A painful lie. He wants to hold her hand.

Those were cold words. He never used that tone on her. She wondered if this is the same man sitting across her now, the same man she has fallen for. She doesn't believe him this time. Her intuition tells her to hold out. She doesn't want to believe the piercing distant words.

A flawed man. Perfect in her eyes.



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