Sunday, January 24, 2010

The Wall

He stretches out his right hand, feels the wall carefully. He can sense the contemptuous stare of the wall on him. He retracts his hand slowly, drawing in a long, deep breath. He never blink, not in front of such defiance. He lowers his body, as slowly as he draws in another breath of calmness. He curves his slightly spread legs to steady himself. Then he shuts his eyes.

His eyes are closed not because of what stands in front of him, but what is rising within him. Although, there's no denying the cause and effect relationship between the two. He needs to contain the various simmering negative emotions that are bubbling vigorously deep within him - frustration, discontent, helplessness, confusion and the ensuing rage. He wants to rein in each and everyone of them. He tries to direct them to where he wants them to be, at the centre of him, within him, under control, however arduous the task seems. Sweat starts to ooze out from his slightly grimaced face. The task is not at all easy, despite his numerous unavoidable encounters with them.

It's hard to focus when there are so many of them, each pulling him in different direction with such force, each trying to get out from his body with such haste. He's clueless as to where to start, and how. In the end, everyone of them converges at the top of his chest and he is shaking.

"Arghh ..." he lets out a punch with all his might; a punch that is powerful enough to crush any wall of negative emotions.

He opens his eyes. The wall stand in front of him. Intact.

His fist is a quarter of an inch from the wall, which is seemingly staring at him still, laughing even.

He extends his index finger from his fist and points at the wall slowly, repeatedly. Pulling back his hand, he stands up straight and turns in silent.

As he turns his back towards the wall, he suddenly reverses the direction of his turn in lightning speed, leans his body slightly backward, lifts his right leg from the ground and kicks towards the wall.

Unlike the earlier all-out airy punch, the kick is a controlled release of force, with just enough energy and right at the centre of the wall. There's no shouting from him this time to punctuate his action. But the wall gives out a loud thud.

He stands facing the wall again.

He turns, for the second time, and walks away. The wall stands in defiant.

"One, two ..." he counts silently, at tempo to his steps.

On the contemptuous face of the wall, cracks appear, and spread across its face within seconds.


On that count, the wall crumbles.

As the dust settles casually onto the ground, the corners of his mouth curl upwards into a smile.



T - Another Geek Girl said...

Very cool.
You're a very interesting writer.

Buzzing J said...

"Fascinating" interesting, or "weird" interesting?


Glad you enjoy the piece.

Thanks for sharing your thoughts.

Don E. Chute said...

This post reminds me of a ol' Southern saying, that I had to look up, to get right.

A whistling woman and a crowing hen never comes to a very good end. (be who you are).

I started reading, and wasn't sure where you were going, and I'm still not. You're making me THINK dammit!

Don't you know, your supposed to stare at Cats, while clicking? Don't change, Be who you are!


Buzzing J said...

Thinking - is good, right?


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