The title gives it away, its for all the writers alive.
For the love of a writer
No one knows that a writer was a
selfless creature, a person of no morals, a person who stepped on their own
toes to get the right verse, the right word, the right line and the perfect
emotion. No one knows that a writer was a dreamer, someone who swam in the deep
recesses of the ocean, getting washed away with the waves the brain presented,
drowning in their own ideas, diving into unchartered waters. No one knows that
silence from a writer was a dangerous thing; it exhibits a significant moment
as they experience the feeling they wish to write but cannot map it down into
the correct words so they discard it, throwing it away into the minds recycling
bin hoping to use it again.
No one knows that before a writer can pen down the passion, they feel it themselves, they feel the rained kisses on their lips, they feel their shaky fingers exploring golden bronze limbs, no one knows that a person who composes poetic language together is truly a musician, as they sing verse after verse making the music live through the readers, making the notes lift off the page and embrace the audience. For no one knows the love off a writer, for his or her work and for their readers.
No one knows, no one apart from Khushi Kumari Gupta.
She sat down at noon, painting her
ideas into word watching from the small window as her fellow classmates
socialised amongst the small crowd that would gather at lunchtime. She
preferred to stay indoors rather than be apart of the hectic crazy 'social
life' her quite natures not welcome in the loud boisterous affairs. After all
no one could understand sign language and Khushi didn't like having a
translator wherever she went, she preferred to speak directly rather then
through another being.
So she composed her dreams, composed her ideas, composed her life into stories typing away her rajkumar in lines of black and white, but little did they know that each line was bursting with an untold emotion, an emotion she couldn't recognise herself and when she tried to place it she came up short. Never did she think that she would actually come face to face with the man who dominated her chapters but today it seemed god had favoured her. Her typing stopping as she looked on, her eyes catching his golden face in the stark hews of the sun.
She had hopped down the stairs, not caring that she was looked at, her bangles fluttering in the loud silence as she weaved her way through the immature youngsters but she was halted, her scarf that was looped around her tote bag trapped in someones hands.
"Khushi" Akash's voice
drawled, "What's wrong? Have you finally got your voice back little mermaid?"
Akash used to be her best friend in the early years of college but as his looks exceeded so did his popularity and he became her bully, picking up on her disability rather than defending and assisting her. So it was no surprise that he was finally picking a bone with her, with his new nickname 'little mermaid'.
"Hmm" He murmured tugging harder.
Her small fingers grabbed onto the opposite end trying to be free. She fell into the trap as her mouth moved, miming a 'let go' but her voice fell short, as there were no words spoken and the little gathered group burst out into giggles.
"Cat got your tongue?"
He asked, laughing along with them, ignoring the angry looks his cousin was
sending his way.
She swallowed her tears, as she untied the scarf, not caring that it was being left behind as she bolted out of the corridor, the laughs dimming with her heavy footsteps.
"Wait" She heard a
husky baritone from behind her, but she didn't, scared he was going to behave
just like them. She had begun to round a corner when her elbow was harshly
pulled, her hands coming up to defend her face her small fingers hiding her
features from his honey like gaze.
"Look at me" He breathed, curious eyes met warm ones, mud met grass, the sun kissed the sky and the waves overlapped themselves in the ocean.
Arnav looked at
Khushi, the girl who he had given his heart too at the tender age of 14,
watching her as she quietly got by in her life, not caring about worldly things
but rather caring about herself and others around her. Her beauty only
radiating further with age, her skin deepening with a milky glow, and her hair
shining in all its glory. Truth be told he had wanted her with a teenage mind
at the age of fourteen but as the years progressed he fell in love with her
mind, body and soul acknowledging her quiet calming presence wherever she went,
so now as he looked on into her green like eyes his fingers shook with need,
his eyes taking in her trembling form.
But he swallowed down his own want, wanting to progress their relationship from nods to words, not wanting to scare her into a deeper corner.
"Akash is an idiot" He said "Don't listen to him" His chest heaved with the faltered oxygen. He stepped back, digging into his back pocket to retrieve the disposed scarf.
"Here" He extended it towards her, inhaling her vanilla fragrance as it sifted through the air.
She looked at him
through the wide window of her eyes, accepting the scarf with shaky hands as
her eyes softened from the harsh lines.
"Thank you" She
signed, her hands coming up to touch her chin and extending out showing her
gratitude through sign language.
But Arnav didn't
understand, he looked at her curiously, inwardly cursing himself for not
learning sign language.
She looked at the confusion set in his jaw, her fingers reaching out to touch the stubble, her small ivory fingers a stark contrast with his bronze sprayed skin, she stepped on her tippy toes her form flush against his as her softness met his hardness, her small lips coming to rest against his cheek tickling his stubble, his eyes widening in shock.
Now this he understood.
She slipped away before his hands could hold on, glancing back just to confirm that this was the start of something new entirely.
Her face flushed with embarrassment as she remembered her actions, but she was past caring, now someone knew, someone knew that the love off a writer was far too deep to be faltered.
Someone other than Khushi Kumari Gupta knew.
_
This is for all the writers on this forum, or on the planet this ones for you. Because no one truly understands the love we have, and if they do then they are on the other side.
-Aashifa
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