Teacher

"so where did you work before this?" he asked her.
She sat in front of him, head held high, looking at him expectantly. she wore very little makeup, other than light lipstick. Penciled lids highlighted bright intelligent eyes, that fixed on him and followed. She sat with her back straight with her hands on her lap. In one of those hands she held a leather bound notebook.
As he begun to explain the nature of her job, She listened intently, occasionally taking notes.
It struck him that She was different from the others. She listened well, took notes and was it afraid to ask questions.
As the days passed, he noticed the confident gait, the ease in which she befriended people. And people responded to her well, too. Everyone seemed at ease to be with her.
He always worked late, and at the end of the working day she'd stop by his office and go over the day. He was by nature a teacher, and she a student, and they would spend evening in discourse. Most people avoided him but here was someone who not only Sought him out, but actively listened. He began to enjoy the attention, and soon enough began to look forward to the late evening sessions.

The Darkness

He heard her scream for help. Over and over. There was smoke every where, smothering him. He strained his eyes to see, but there was blackness. She is upstairs; he groped around for the bannister. He just needed to get to the first step. He knew that once at the first step, it was just a quick dash, up 12 little steps, past the doorway that stood between himself and her.
He found the little sphere that marked the start of the bannister.
There was too much smoke. Pitch darkness. He tried to blink away the darkness, but nothing. He tried to run up the stairs, but his legs were heavy. He tried to heave them one at a time. He must. He must get to that door, prise it open. She is there. He must get past that door, so that he can get her. He must save her, bring her to safety. He must save her and tell her everything. But she's in danger and she's screaming; the screaming for help did not stop. He tried to shout to her, to tell her ntto be afraid, that he's coming, but there was no sound. No sound from his throat.
He found himself at the door, and as he reached out to the doorknob, it melted away like it did not exist. And there was a blinding flash of light...
He found himself drenched in sweat, breathless. He was sitting up in bed. It had been a dream.. a dream after all.. He looked around and familiarity began to come into focus. He saw his wife, in deep sleep next to him. The tv, still on, was showing the end of the cd he had been watching.
He pullled himself off the bed, weary. He stole a furtive look at his wife and quietly left the bedroom.
In the darkness, he dialed. A familiar voice, groggy from sleep, answered. "Are you ok?" he asked.
"yeah," she answered sleepily. "Why?"
"I love you. " And he hung up the phone.

The first afternoon

It was never a cold day in the city that he lived. A tropical metropolis, the sun was always blazing and buildings kept their climate control temperatures to the minimum. But today wasn't so hot. In a rare break of clear sky in the midst of the rainy season, the day was relatively cool. It was too nice a day to stay indoors, a rare opportunity to be outside and still be comfortably so, without the sweat soaking heat.
He opted to go out. Waiting for the elevator, he was pleasantly surprised when she walked out into the lobby, clutching a tiny purse and handbag in tow.
"Going out?", he asked.
"yeah, need to go do some banking and stuff", she said with a smile. "where you off to?"
"Nowhere, really. Its just too nice to stay indoors", he had said. "Want me to give you a ride?"
He drove her to the nearby bank, in a neighborhood he had not been to in recent years. From the parking spot, they walked along the boulevard lined with shady trees and parked cars. He remarked about how long its been since he last had anything to do with the place, while she updated him with the times when she used to work in that area, and how there were places she'd visit to between breaks. He'd looked at her intently as she spoke, watching how easily her lips would part themselves into a smile at almost every sentence. Her voice was melodic; lilting in tunes at every nuance of her speech, breaking into little giggles as she spoke. He was at ease with her, as she with him.
There wasn't a queue at the bank, and he sat at the seats while she filled in the forms and walked to the counter. He watched her every move, every step that she took. She walked with her head held high, at ease with her self, confident with her abilities. And the smile that so easily formed was always there, even as she broke into conversation with the teller. He continued to watch her every move even as they had lunch, and even as they exchanged conversation.
The conversation continued as they walked to the car, two people lost in each others company, so lost that they did not realize his hand slipped into hers; and they continued to the car, retracing their steps, hand in hand past the rows of parked cars in the shade of the trees.
It wasn't until he reached the car and was about to fish out his keys that he realized he was holding her hand; in one quick reaction, he pulled his hand away. His ears turned red and his face began to flush when he realized it was her hand he was holding. He wanted to apologize (what for?) he wanted to say something, but he was far too lost for words. He just stood there, embarrassed grin on his face, trying to stammer, or not to stammer, after all he didn't have the words anyway. And she looked at him, coy, that wonderful smile forming in the corners of her mouth. And she mentioned his name in a half whisper as she placed her hand behind his neck, and pulled his face to hers and planted a long, warm kiss on his lips....

The First Day

He stood there, eyes scanning the audience. Clearly, they were starting to get agitated. What began as silent whispers, were increasing to murmurs and even then, these were beginning to punctuate the air around him. The chairperson was trying to get control of the audience, like reeling a thrashing bull at the end of tether.
His attention was suddenly diverted to the buzzing of his mobile.
"They're wheeling her in", the voice inside the phone said. The blood drained from his head, down his chest, leaving a tingle on his skin; he became aware of the sudden pounding of his chest. Each breath became difficult, as if a burden was placed on his chest.
He felt a sudden need to sit down, his focus clearly lost from the crowd onto his beating heart.
The surgery!
He was no longer present in his surroundings, as everything began to move slowly. The discussions around him bore no meaning, every look, every question directed at him meant nothing. His present melted away, fused into a grey, murmuring background, as his mind began to wander into the past.
She had stood in front of him, twirling her car keys in her hands, hesitant. It was already late, and he had brushed her words aside, telling her to hurry home. When she drove off, he had gotten into his car and driven off, too; and, instead of the customary phone call to keep her company during the drive home, he had opted to not to call, instead, he drove slowly, silently with his thoughts to himself.
The next day, he had found a long message waiting for him; it said,"I wish you could have the time to let me tell you all the things at the back of my mind," and the message had ended with,"..I wish you could be the last thing my eyes would see when they take me in, and the first when they open again..."
And he had then promised himself that he would be there, and if not physically, he would call her, for if not for anything else, to let her know that he was thinking of her, and that for every conscious moment, she was all that he'd ever think off.
And, as questions from the audience yanked him away from the past back into the present, it dawned that the surgery was real, as was the risk of something going wrong; he may never see her again, in one selfish moment, he had given up the chance to let her know how deeply he had felt about her.
And, as his eyes focused on the expectant faces, waiting for his answer, to the questions he did not hear, his heart became empty, the passion for life extinguished, and the realization that once again, he had let himself down, and, with it, began his spiral into self destruction and despair.

The ghost has a home!

After many years of floating around in the nether world, the ghost now has a home. I want to be able to write things that wont be tied to my realities; i just want to be able to express myself and experiment with wordplay and emotions.
I don't know if I can generate any traffic; but most importantly, i need to be able to release all these things inside my head so that they can stay somewhere and not add clutter to an already cluttered mind.
a journey of a thousand steps begin with the first one, so i hope that my number of steps grow n continue.
regards,
ghost