Mistletoes and Morphine - 3

Part 3.

P.S. Part two is the post below this one.

She drifted across the asphalt and braked right opposite the Christmas tree at Westminster Abbey. It was 11:50, and the interiors of the church glistened with the Christmas mood. She walked up to the Christmas tree, and a wave of nostalgia washed over her face as she saw him standing under the pale light, doing nothing but staring at the tip of the tree with a certain familiarity. His clothes were ravaged, his face sullen, but she couldn't help thinking he was sparkling under the warm lighting the tree bore. She paced forward and stood next to him, and her eyes met where he was looking.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he asked. "Just the way it was 4 years back. Just the way it has been all these years".

She lowered her head down, guilt building up inside her.

"I never forgot the look on your face, you know", he continued as he turned towards her. "I could tell you were lying to me".

She turned towards him. Her eyes started tearing up. She couldn't keep it in anymore. She sank her face into his chest and started sobbing. He held her tight, afraid to let go. He couldn't afford losing her again. Finally, he gripped her arms and held her up. The proximity between their lips increased, and before they knew it, they were kissing. He held her by the waist and they looked up to the tip of the tree, which was now glowing brighter. They started waltzing to the sound of the carols which filled the atmosphere, her head placed on his shoulders.
"Don't run away next time, please?" he said, as he brushed her hair away from her face, and kissed her on the forehead".
"Never", she confirmed. 
He took two small bells attached to withered leaves of a Mistletoe and placed it in her hands. Her face was then a barrage of mixed emotions. Confusion, awe, reminiscence...comfort. Those were the same bells they'd lost into the river Thames 5 years back. She remembered him jumping in and trying to find it, but to no avail. It's like he knew this day was coming. Her eyes teared up again as she looked into his eyes. It struck midnight, and they kissed again, waltzing swiftly as the melody of the carols became more prominent in the air,

and it was the best Christmas ever..

Mistletoes and Morphine - 2

P.S. The first part is the post below this one.

Part 2.

She sat there alone. Staring out of her balcony which overlooked acres of plush lawns of hazed grass, all she saw were the starry night skies. She wondered if he was looking at the sky at this very moment, thinking about her. Two to three miles away, she could see the streets of Buena Park bustling with activity. She wanted to be there amidst the joyous people, amidst the Christmas air. She wanted to be there with him. She turned her gaze around, inside the room and onto the bed, where her fiance lay in his unperturbed slumber. He had given her this gigantic mansion and the elegant jewellery. He'd given her a healthy lifestyle and a Rolls  Royce to drive around in. But he'd taken away her life. He'd taken away all those joys and cheers. He'd taken away her smile. She looked back outside, and with Christmas being barely two hours away, she couldn't help but reminisce her time with him 4 years back..
'She was standing at the Christmas tree at Westminster Abbey. He was late. She paced back and forth, the nervousness and anxiety taking over by the second. He could be here any moment. Finally, she got a glimpse of him, cheerful as ever. He was waddling his way through the crowd with an enormous grin on his face. Such a charmer, she thought. He came and he pecked her on the lips.
"I need to tell you something", she said.
"Well, I'm here. Go ahead", he blurted.
So she did. She told him she couldn't be here any more. She told him that she'd had it with him, and that she'd found someone else. That she was moving out of here and leaving this place. Forever. She didn't dare look at him, and she didn't dare tell him the truth. It seemed to be more painful for some reason. After she was done, she looked up at him. He was on the verge of tears, with a strange kind of anger filling his eyes. She had to try so hard to not break down, to not fall into his chest and sob for having to lie to him. But she stayed strong and started walking away.
"Every year from this year on, I will wait for you at this same Christmas tree at midnight. Every year", he finally spurted out.
And that's all he said. No farewell. No goodbyes. She looked at him one last time before getting into her car, and she drove off'.
She plummeted back into reality with tears in her eyes. She couldn't take this any more. She still loved him, and after 4 years, she wan't letting this Christmas go a waste too. She stormed out of the manor, got into the Rolls Royce and sped away, Westminster being her destination..

P.S. Next part shall be posted in two days.

Mistletoes and Morphine - 1

Part 1.

          He was devastated. He sat there alone at Bursley's, sipping on his pint. He could see the people around celebrating with big jugs of beer and enormous smiles on their faces. A group sitting at a table not far from him were reminiscing their previous Christmas and how they spiked this guy's drink before locking him in the women's washroom. Another group of two guys sitting a few yards on his left spoke of their encounter with the hookers, one of whom turned out to be...well, nevermind. He smirked. He tried to think of what he did for Christmas last year; Well, nothing different. He'd spent the night at Bursley's after he'd encountered sheer disappointment at Westminster Abbey. But what was he doing there? He didn't want to reawaken those memories. Capering back into reality, he finished the pint. "Give me the best you have. And make it a double", he told the bartender. "Rough night, eh?" he asked. "You bet", he said. Christmas was two hours away. He gulped the drink down and stormed out. Waddling through the streets of central London, he saw a  couple making out towards his left. He walked a little faster. He hated Christmas. He hated this joyous air which filled the streets. Rejoicing it made him feel like he was a part of this colossal facade which sought no reality. By the time he reached Westminster Abbey, he could barely stand. The alcohol got the better of him. His head groggy, he looked up, beyond the 30-feet tall Christmas tree which was blazing with colours and Christmas decor, at the night sky filled with stars forming infinite constellations. He lost his will over his body, his head hit the ground. "At least I have you in my dreams", he muttered, and he passed out..

P.S. The next part shall be posted in two days.

Ray of Light.

It was another stodgy day. I woke up. Amidst the daily morning routine, I looked at myself in the mirror, the beads of water trickling down my face. Staring into those intense eyes, I wondered what this day had in store for me. The weather was intriguing, so I decided to go out to grab a few nice pictures. After contenting myself with an ample number of pictures, I thought to myself that going to the local garden by the shore would be a good idea. Fan of solitude, after all. It was six in the morning, and the dew brushed against my face while I closed my eyes and sat there, thinking..
I have everything to get through the day without any complaints. I have caring parents, and a sister who, as despicable as she is, is always there to cover up for me. Friends, who are there when you need to call that girl a bitch along with the times you're smoking up(Obviously). And of course, that one person you run to when all else in the world has failed you. So I asked myself, "Why complain?". Why do I need to ask for more? All I do is whine about what a miserable life I have, pushing all people away. I forget about everything when it comes to those stupid little wants which remain nothing but wants. So today, I choose to look at the brighter side of life. For once, I decide that optimism is a better pick than complaining.

I believe in that ray of light in the dark. Do you?

The Pseudocopulatory Experience.

"Fuck you", she exclaimed. "Bandra is so full o-".
Okay, save that for later. Now I'll tell you what happened around two minutes before that.
So I walk into my friend's room, and it's like this Charlie-Sheen-emulation factory. There were around 10 of them smoking and drinking. Hell, I would've mistaken them for junkies, but I knew better. Some of them were my friends. A cigarette in one hand, an unusual concoction of rum, water, Thums Up and ash in the other, and their mouths full of figurative shit. Yes, some friends I have. There were these three girls though, who I didn't know. After my friend introduced me to them, I gagged at the last name. It wasn't disgusting or weird or anything, but I loved that name. And coming across it like this...well, it was unexpected. "Excuse me?" she said, her face puzzled with an egoistic edge. "Haha, I don't mean bad. It's just that I've never come across that name", I said. She smiled. It was brilliant. It looked amazing anyway, but her bigger-than-usual nose made her look cuter. And to give you an idea of where I'm going with this, she had straight hair. "So where do you live?" I asked. Before any further details, let me let you know that when you live in Bandra, you develop a certain complex sometimes. I'm a happy victim of it. "Andheri", she answered, and I gagged again. Fuck me, right? (I have this habit of having fucked up first impressions. Ask Renelle.) This time she didn't take it too well, and the argument began:
"-f shit! You think you people are cooler than the rest". "Fine", I snapped, "Spell Andheri". "A-N-D-H-E-R-I", she spelt out. "How do you know it so well?", I asked her. "I live there", she said. "Exactly", I muttered. The surrounding silenced itself, and you would've ran if you saw the look on her face. "Also, we have Celebrate Bandra. Do you'll have a 'Celebrate Andheri'? I don't think so", I said like a jackass, to make things worse. There was like this long, silent drum-roll which was expecting a climax. And instead of abusing, she neutralised her expression and smiled again. A smile that took all the logic and reasoning away. A smile, that made me drop her home later on that night. A smile, that made me fall for her.

And then I woke up.