P
Perfect Darkness
Guest
Tis a one shot, nothing much to say I suppose. Critics are appriciated
And also, I will not post this in purple, so I will be light on your eyes >.<. Also, I wouldn't QUITE rate it PG-13, however it does curse once
~;353;
A little spark
A little light
Not seen by day
But glows at night
It popped into my head and, being the person I am, I scribbled it down right as I thought of it. Everyone knows to write something down if you think of it, otherwise it will go away. My mother always used to say that. I loved her and still do. I love her even though she rests at her grave since breast cancer decided to take her from the world as would a serial killer with a gun. That’s how my Dad joined my Mom…down there. Then again, maybe up there. Who knows?
Death has never been a good thing for me. When is death a good thing? Never. But it doesn’t surround people like a thick haze as it does me. My parents and grandparents passed away all before I was fourteen. My parents were only children, so no aunts, uncles, or cousins for me. I don’t wish to die, as many probably would in my situation. I believe I am living my life for everyone who couldn’t live their own. It’s a good feeling, even though I am alone even now, no husband or kids. But I am okay, I am going strong.
What is strong, really? I mean, sure I don’t cry every night, but my room is heavily decorated with memoirs from each deceased member of my family. So technically I am the only Slater left. Out of anyone. So to pass on the Slater line, which has always been my family’s dream that I shared with them, only I could do it. I would also need to give birth to a boy. But I don’t plan on falling for anyone anytime soon, for nobody ever seems to fall back. Ever. I’ve gotten used to it, but having those meaningless crushes because of unrequited love begins to emotionally damage a person after awhile. Not like I show it, though, it’s not like I can.
I, Ryden Slater, was declared the unofficial loner of my school. There was best dressed, MVP, Mrs. Congeniality, and other awards given out in the yearbook of our school. Everyone, every year, wrote ‘Loner’ above my name. I was, I knew it. The editors knew it too, it’s just they wanted to be nice and not put it in there. I wished I had friends, but I was a natural loner. I always thought they were a bit jealous of my though. Always A+’s, a tragedy to get below a 93.When I argued for the points back, people would just roll her eyes and go “There she goes again.”
I had an e-mail sitting in front of me. I read it over again to refresh my memory…from a minute ago. My boss wanted to speak to me at four; his secretary sent me the e-mail. It was currently 3:30. I had half an hour to organize my material. I was a publisher. That was good because I could often publish my own books. Not without consent, but I was a good writer, so I usually got things on the market. It’s basically doing two jobs at one time, so I have it pretty good money wise.
Like it matters that much, though. I live in a condo smack in the middle of Manhattan alone and I’m not even dating anyone! All my friends, which isn’t many to begin with, are married or engaged. I do like someone, but it isn’t customary to ask a boy out, it is supposed to be the opposite. Oh, now I sound like I am in high school again. But it is true, I save all his e-mails, hang on to every picture and talk to him whenever I can without trying to sound needy. If he knew and he felt the same way, I think this paved road of mine would have been a lot smoother to drive on.
His name is Austin. Austin Tyrel. He’s absolutely dazzling. Well, as much as a guy being dazzling can be anyway. He has deep green eyes and long hair. I think people would think I am weird if I told them I liked him, but for me, who’s to tell? So I keep it to myself, my secret pleasure. The editor in chief, as he sat on his high throne of being my boss, aside from me, a measly publisher. He liked me a little though, I could tell. He published my books. I was a publisher, I could not get my books published myself. He said I write well. I still remember that day. I went to sleep smiling.
And the put the icing on the cake, he’s moving. To Oklahoma nonetheless, out to the middle of the county. The time zones are different for heaven’s sake! Was this planned out? Around the third week I worked here, my friend introduced me to him and the first thing I notice, not to be shallow, was how dashingly handsome he was. I couldn’t talk to him so I turned the other way and ran back to my desk out of sheer instinct. How great does that make me look?
But God did his work. One day he sent me an e-mail. Okay, so technically the entire staff but I mean who likes technicalities anyway? So he told people to e-mail him back if there were any questions. So just to be bold, I did. I e-mailed him a question. As I wrote the e-mail I constantly reminded myself there were no such things as stupid questions, they are all perfectly good and meant to be answered. So I asked him how to do a spell check. He showed me the next day, but walking away, he shook his head like he was wondering “what kind of idiots do I hire here?” I frowned. So much for a good impression.
At least I remembered his birthday. There’s a staff list that is sent out one New Year’s Day every year. He was there and I’d always draw a stupid little heart around it in my calendar in bright pink pen. I am such a hopeless romantic. It became my favorite day of the year. Possibly more than my birthday. April 7th. I loved it; every time that day rolled around I’d walk into work happy. It gave me a reason to kiss him on the check and him to return the favor. He didn’t know my birthday; at least I didn’t think so. Did it matter? Yes and no I guess.
No, because I wasn’t happy on my birthday anyway. One person remembered it and sent me a Hot Mild Enchiladas. Yay. I have to work on my birthday, like I’d ever take off for something as stupid as me turning 33. Austin’s are so much more fun. There’s a party in the conference room with cake and presents and cards. I always give him anonymous ones. I doubt he notices. What can you do? Force him to notice me? Send a threatening letter? Ryden doesn’t do that. I’m a good person. I don’t act out. At least that’s what they say.
I am not saying I’m not but it fascinates me how people can just classify me without even knowing me. They think they do, based on my work and how I act, but I guess the key word is acting. Nobody has ever really come up to ask how I was doing, to tell me they cared or show a hint of compassion. I’ve learned to accept it. I was like Elphaba from Wicked-a freak of nature. Only this was internal. Hers was external. Lucky bitch.
I had just received an e-mail, it said so on my screen. I clicked it and it opened. It…was from Austin! Also, it was only addressed to me! No one else. I was about to have a heart attack. Then I read the message and could have lay down and died. It said to see him in his office. I had never been in his office at all, ever. This time only I was going. Wow. I suddenly got scared. Why would he just want me down there and nobody else? Was he going to fire me?
By the time all my worries started to really emerge out of proportion, I had arrived at his office. His…office door to be specific. Printed in black lettering on a gold plate on his door was Austin Tyrel. Austin Tyrel. I knew that name so well, just as my own in fact. I picked up my shaky hand and knocked gently. A cool calm voice came from the other side. “Come in, Miss Slater.” I gulped. He knew it was mean. I could’ve run away or something. It was too late.
As if someone possessed me, I watched my hand, which I now had no control over, reach towards the golden doorknob and turn it slightly to the right. I watched the bar inside the door was slide into the door as I held onto the knob for dear life, in hope it would save me for what I’d have to for come. Then I realized I was begging a doorknob to defend me. Loser. I sucked in my breath, and stepped into hell.
As I looked around, hell wasn’t so bad. Hey if this was hell I can’t wait for heaven. He was sitting there, staring at me, well as if he was staring at the door waiting for me to come in and now I was in place of the door but if you think like that is sort of destroys the whole thing. So he was staring at me. With those deep green eyes, his black hair, that was on the long-ish side, combed ever so neatly. I smiled as he gestured for me to have a seat. Then something smacked me in the head.
Austin Tyrel was my boss and my boss was having a meeting with me in half an hour and right now it was half an hour from half an hour ago. Got that? Me neither. I just knew it was time for the meeting. Rats, he didn’t want to see me for more than business. Well, it’s good in a way. As my father says, don’t poop where you eat. I always thought it was the weirdest thing but through the years I came to find it actually made sense. I get paid and if I futz with the place I get paid, I won’t get paid anymore. So I couldn’t buy things and I’d need to find another job, oh it’s such a hassle.
“Welcome,” he said with a warm smile. I melted. I could’ve melted right there into a puddle.
“H-hi! What did me want you see to…me to you see…see to me you…me to see you for?” Well, official loser of the year award goes to…
“Heh, no need to be nervous! I’m your boss, Mrs. Spell Check girl.” My cheeks flushed bright read in memory of the e-mail. He said Mrs., did he think I was married? What a thought, me, married. Hah! “As you know, these are mandatory. I must tell you on your service and how you can improve and in what areas. I think it helps the workers become more acquainted with the necessary standards and such. Not that you have many. You take on other work to, when people are out sick and your own books. I think your work is great.
“What I seem to wonder is why you are at your computer so much. Not that you need to answer, you don’t get back logged with your work so I figure it has some work reason behind it. But I had an idea for you. Only for you because I don’t think anybody would be as suited for this job as you are…or the fact that nobody wants it is a whole different story.” He laughed. I was offended by this. So what does this mean I am last choice? I wanted to ask him that, but that would have got me fired, so I kept my mouth shut.
“Why don’t you try writing a book…by pictures?” I was gawking at him by now? What did he mean? A picture book? I wrote 300 page novels with quite an advanced vocabulary and the closest thing you get to a picture is the fancy lettering! “Like, a photography book” he added, seeing my face and basically reading it.
“Bu-But I c-ca-can’t take Pictures! I write! I am a writer!”
“But I want you to try something.” He handed me a digital camera. “Take pictures with this, and once you take a picture it automatically loads onto my computer so no worries about space. Take a picture of anything you want. For one month. Starting today. Come back in thirty one days and we’ll review it together. Put some of the really good ones together and publish it! And what’s a book to a picture anyway? A picture’s worth a thousand words. See if you can bring truth to that.”
So I took the camera. He had given me the month. A whole month to make a book. On pictures. I have a crush on a crazy guy. But what was I to do? I went back to my desk and packed up what I would need for the month I wouldn’t be there. I said good-bye to everyone. Nobody cared to respond, they were all too busy buried in their computers. So much for missing me. Thanks a lot guys. What was I to care? I had a project to do. Hey, wait a minute, a picture!
A picture is worth a thousand words, see how many I could produce from everyday life. He said I can take pictures of whatever I want, why not take pictures of what I had to like with everyday? People in little areas, working like robots in their own little section, on their own little project. Now I was one of them, working on my own little project. But mine was just a tad bigger than redoing their checkbook or paying their taxes as a time passing activity.
So I took my first picture. A picture of my partners, each in their own little cubicle working. Zoned out form the world, and from where I stood, I could see the window into Austin’s office. I was sure I could see a smile on his face. Then with that, I walked out of that office. Forever. Sort of, a month, but you get what I mean. Plus forever sounds better and more dramatic. So yeah, forever.
I took a whole new light on things walking you of that building. So yeah sure I was just walking out of a building for a month but even still the dirty, smelly, stinky, gang filled New York City that I knew looked lot different know. I didn’t see the smoke from cigarettes, I saw the naked tree that had surrendered to winter’s cold. I didn’t see people do illegal trading, or a woman getting mugged. I saw benches, snow, and ice on the railings in Central Park. Then I knew in my head and in my heart I didn’t want to start there. I needed to start there.
Austin had given me no information of want he wanted pictures of and I very much doubt he was planning to. So he left it up to me. Okay. I can do this. For me and for Austin. What was I going to photograph? No idea, so start with the basics, start with nature. I walked toward Central Park. I had to wait for the go sign across the street unless I wanted to create an insti-suicide.
I made my way into the park and looked for a good shot. It usually helps to know what your actually looking for, but under the circumstance I think Austin will forgive me. I found some icy trees, snow, and benches. As I saw my pictures, I wasn’t half bad at taking pictures at all. Today was really beautiful, and the snow made it what it was, so pure and white. You never ever see anything this beautiful in New York City. It’s very grungy. Then something caught my eye.
On the tree. That naked tree I saw from across the street. It wasn’t. It wasn’t naked. There was an icicle on it. It wasn’t an icicle, though, it was more like a leaf. It was a shard of ice that looked amazingly similar to a leaf. It was indeed a shard of ice, I saw no green, it did not encase a leaf. But that shard greatly resembled a leaf. It was hanging from a tree and resembled a leaf’s movements. But a leaf’s summer movements. It wasn’t rapidly flying everywhere in reaction to the wind, but sitting there, still.
This was it. This was what I needed. That picture, that leaf, how could I get it? It was like capturing an animal. It was so beautiful, how dare I encase the image within a piece of paper? I was the only one to notice it; everyone was walking by me without a care. But there was that leaf. That leaf was my picture, my story, but writing a story like that would be emotionally damaging. That leaf, how long was it there? It wasn’t shaking violently. It defied the expression “shaking like a leaf.”
Perfectly sculpted. I felt if I took the picture I could rupture it. Destroy it. It was only a picture, but then everyone would see and maybe this leaf wasn’t meant for everyone to see. Maybe this leaf was a sign for me. Or maybe this leaf was a crossing bridge. This was the picture Austin wanted, I could see it was. This was what he was talking about. He didn’t want me to take a picture of anything, but of something that means something that I could find anywhere.
That leaf was like the threshold of my individuality. My choice. I hated how dramatic this was. I never had to really make a decision by myself. Everyone has made my choices for me. Everyone always told me what to do and how to do it and if it was wrong and to fix it and how to fix it and what to choose and what not to choose. I had never really actually done something for myself. I was shocked at how controlled my life was.
It was like I was a kid again, but at 33. I always said I never wanted to grow up and technically I haven’t. I am always being shadowed and instructed and guided and mentored. What if I wanted to do something on my own? I could end up fired, in jail, or on probation. If I did one thing people didn’t want me to do, I could end up dead or close to it. But this leaf, this shard of ice, wasn’t listening to the rules. The rules said all leaves fell and no natural shard of ice looked like a leaf. Well guess what; look what I was staring at! So I am going to be like the leaf.
The leaf was different from the rest. It didn’t care about what everything else was doing, the leaf did its own thing. There was no rule saying a shard of ice could not look like a leaf so it wasn’t doing anything wrong. But the reason I noticed it was its abnormality. It wasn’t like anything around it. It…it was different. I noticed it on account of the fact it was different. I wouldn’t notice it if all shards of ice looked the same. If it fit in and followed the unwritten rule that a shard of ice was not supposed to look like a leaf OR be attached to a tree not shaking violently against the harsh wind. No!
But then Austin was there. Austin. Next to me. In the freezing snow. Looking at the exact same thing. It was like we were connecting through the leaf dangling on the tree. I felt connected to another person for the first time ever in my life. He didn’t stare at the leaf’s abnormality. Rather he looked past that and gazed at its beauty. It didn’t need a reason to be there, it just was and who honestly was going to stop it? It had every right of any other leaf or shard of ice to be there. I had thoroughly convinced myself it was a leaf before, but why?
People told me that’s what a leaf looks like and that’s what a leaf does. That is not what a natural shard of ice looks like or does. So I thought I was different. Maybe I wasn’t so different from the rest as much as I thought I was after all.
And also, I will not post this in purple, so I will be light on your eyes >.<. Also, I wouldn't QUITE rate it PG-13, however it does curse once
~;353;
_________________________________________________
A little spark
A little light
Not seen by day
But glows at night
It popped into my head and, being the person I am, I scribbled it down right as I thought of it. Everyone knows to write something down if you think of it, otherwise it will go away. My mother always used to say that. I loved her and still do. I love her even though she rests at her grave since breast cancer decided to take her from the world as would a serial killer with a gun. That’s how my Dad joined my Mom…down there. Then again, maybe up there. Who knows?
Death has never been a good thing for me. When is death a good thing? Never. But it doesn’t surround people like a thick haze as it does me. My parents and grandparents passed away all before I was fourteen. My parents were only children, so no aunts, uncles, or cousins for me. I don’t wish to die, as many probably would in my situation. I believe I am living my life for everyone who couldn’t live their own. It’s a good feeling, even though I am alone even now, no husband or kids. But I am okay, I am going strong.
What is strong, really? I mean, sure I don’t cry every night, but my room is heavily decorated with memoirs from each deceased member of my family. So technically I am the only Slater left. Out of anyone. So to pass on the Slater line, which has always been my family’s dream that I shared with them, only I could do it. I would also need to give birth to a boy. But I don’t plan on falling for anyone anytime soon, for nobody ever seems to fall back. Ever. I’ve gotten used to it, but having those meaningless crushes because of unrequited love begins to emotionally damage a person after awhile. Not like I show it, though, it’s not like I can.
I, Ryden Slater, was declared the unofficial loner of my school. There was best dressed, MVP, Mrs. Congeniality, and other awards given out in the yearbook of our school. Everyone, every year, wrote ‘Loner’ above my name. I was, I knew it. The editors knew it too, it’s just they wanted to be nice and not put it in there. I wished I had friends, but I was a natural loner. I always thought they were a bit jealous of my though. Always A+’s, a tragedy to get below a 93.When I argued for the points back, people would just roll her eyes and go “There she goes again.”
I had an e-mail sitting in front of me. I read it over again to refresh my memory…from a minute ago. My boss wanted to speak to me at four; his secretary sent me the e-mail. It was currently 3:30. I had half an hour to organize my material. I was a publisher. That was good because I could often publish my own books. Not without consent, but I was a good writer, so I usually got things on the market. It’s basically doing two jobs at one time, so I have it pretty good money wise.
Like it matters that much, though. I live in a condo smack in the middle of Manhattan alone and I’m not even dating anyone! All my friends, which isn’t many to begin with, are married or engaged. I do like someone, but it isn’t customary to ask a boy out, it is supposed to be the opposite. Oh, now I sound like I am in high school again. But it is true, I save all his e-mails, hang on to every picture and talk to him whenever I can without trying to sound needy. If he knew and he felt the same way, I think this paved road of mine would have been a lot smoother to drive on.
His name is Austin. Austin Tyrel. He’s absolutely dazzling. Well, as much as a guy being dazzling can be anyway. He has deep green eyes and long hair. I think people would think I am weird if I told them I liked him, but for me, who’s to tell? So I keep it to myself, my secret pleasure. The editor in chief, as he sat on his high throne of being my boss, aside from me, a measly publisher. He liked me a little though, I could tell. He published my books. I was a publisher, I could not get my books published myself. He said I write well. I still remember that day. I went to sleep smiling.
And the put the icing on the cake, he’s moving. To Oklahoma nonetheless, out to the middle of the county. The time zones are different for heaven’s sake! Was this planned out? Around the third week I worked here, my friend introduced me to him and the first thing I notice, not to be shallow, was how dashingly handsome he was. I couldn’t talk to him so I turned the other way and ran back to my desk out of sheer instinct. How great does that make me look?
But God did his work. One day he sent me an e-mail. Okay, so technically the entire staff but I mean who likes technicalities anyway? So he told people to e-mail him back if there were any questions. So just to be bold, I did. I e-mailed him a question. As I wrote the e-mail I constantly reminded myself there were no such things as stupid questions, they are all perfectly good and meant to be answered. So I asked him how to do a spell check. He showed me the next day, but walking away, he shook his head like he was wondering “what kind of idiots do I hire here?” I frowned. So much for a good impression.
At least I remembered his birthday. There’s a staff list that is sent out one New Year’s Day every year. He was there and I’d always draw a stupid little heart around it in my calendar in bright pink pen. I am such a hopeless romantic. It became my favorite day of the year. Possibly more than my birthday. April 7th. I loved it; every time that day rolled around I’d walk into work happy. It gave me a reason to kiss him on the check and him to return the favor. He didn’t know my birthday; at least I didn’t think so. Did it matter? Yes and no I guess.
No, because I wasn’t happy on my birthday anyway. One person remembered it and sent me a Hot Mild Enchiladas. Yay. I have to work on my birthday, like I’d ever take off for something as stupid as me turning 33. Austin’s are so much more fun. There’s a party in the conference room with cake and presents and cards. I always give him anonymous ones. I doubt he notices. What can you do? Force him to notice me? Send a threatening letter? Ryden doesn’t do that. I’m a good person. I don’t act out. At least that’s what they say.
I am not saying I’m not but it fascinates me how people can just classify me without even knowing me. They think they do, based on my work and how I act, but I guess the key word is acting. Nobody has ever really come up to ask how I was doing, to tell me they cared or show a hint of compassion. I’ve learned to accept it. I was like Elphaba from Wicked-a freak of nature. Only this was internal. Hers was external. Lucky bitch.
I had just received an e-mail, it said so on my screen. I clicked it and it opened. It…was from Austin! Also, it was only addressed to me! No one else. I was about to have a heart attack. Then I read the message and could have lay down and died. It said to see him in his office. I had never been in his office at all, ever. This time only I was going. Wow. I suddenly got scared. Why would he just want me down there and nobody else? Was he going to fire me?
By the time all my worries started to really emerge out of proportion, I had arrived at his office. His…office door to be specific. Printed in black lettering on a gold plate on his door was Austin Tyrel. Austin Tyrel. I knew that name so well, just as my own in fact. I picked up my shaky hand and knocked gently. A cool calm voice came from the other side. “Come in, Miss Slater.” I gulped. He knew it was mean. I could’ve run away or something. It was too late.
As if someone possessed me, I watched my hand, which I now had no control over, reach towards the golden doorknob and turn it slightly to the right. I watched the bar inside the door was slide into the door as I held onto the knob for dear life, in hope it would save me for what I’d have to for come. Then I realized I was begging a doorknob to defend me. Loser. I sucked in my breath, and stepped into hell.
As I looked around, hell wasn’t so bad. Hey if this was hell I can’t wait for heaven. He was sitting there, staring at me, well as if he was staring at the door waiting for me to come in and now I was in place of the door but if you think like that is sort of destroys the whole thing. So he was staring at me. With those deep green eyes, his black hair, that was on the long-ish side, combed ever so neatly. I smiled as he gestured for me to have a seat. Then something smacked me in the head.
Austin Tyrel was my boss and my boss was having a meeting with me in half an hour and right now it was half an hour from half an hour ago. Got that? Me neither. I just knew it was time for the meeting. Rats, he didn’t want to see me for more than business. Well, it’s good in a way. As my father says, don’t poop where you eat. I always thought it was the weirdest thing but through the years I came to find it actually made sense. I get paid and if I futz with the place I get paid, I won’t get paid anymore. So I couldn’t buy things and I’d need to find another job, oh it’s such a hassle.
“Welcome,” he said with a warm smile. I melted. I could’ve melted right there into a puddle.
“H-hi! What did me want you see to…me to you see…see to me you…me to see you for?” Well, official loser of the year award goes to…
“Heh, no need to be nervous! I’m your boss, Mrs. Spell Check girl.” My cheeks flushed bright read in memory of the e-mail. He said Mrs., did he think I was married? What a thought, me, married. Hah! “As you know, these are mandatory. I must tell you on your service and how you can improve and in what areas. I think it helps the workers become more acquainted with the necessary standards and such. Not that you have many. You take on other work to, when people are out sick and your own books. I think your work is great.
“What I seem to wonder is why you are at your computer so much. Not that you need to answer, you don’t get back logged with your work so I figure it has some work reason behind it. But I had an idea for you. Only for you because I don’t think anybody would be as suited for this job as you are…or the fact that nobody wants it is a whole different story.” He laughed. I was offended by this. So what does this mean I am last choice? I wanted to ask him that, but that would have got me fired, so I kept my mouth shut.
“Why don’t you try writing a book…by pictures?” I was gawking at him by now? What did he mean? A picture book? I wrote 300 page novels with quite an advanced vocabulary and the closest thing you get to a picture is the fancy lettering! “Like, a photography book” he added, seeing my face and basically reading it.
“Bu-But I c-ca-can’t take Pictures! I write! I am a writer!”
“But I want you to try something.” He handed me a digital camera. “Take pictures with this, and once you take a picture it automatically loads onto my computer so no worries about space. Take a picture of anything you want. For one month. Starting today. Come back in thirty one days and we’ll review it together. Put some of the really good ones together and publish it! And what’s a book to a picture anyway? A picture’s worth a thousand words. See if you can bring truth to that.”
So I took the camera. He had given me the month. A whole month to make a book. On pictures. I have a crush on a crazy guy. But what was I to do? I went back to my desk and packed up what I would need for the month I wouldn’t be there. I said good-bye to everyone. Nobody cared to respond, they were all too busy buried in their computers. So much for missing me. Thanks a lot guys. What was I to care? I had a project to do. Hey, wait a minute, a picture!
A picture is worth a thousand words, see how many I could produce from everyday life. He said I can take pictures of whatever I want, why not take pictures of what I had to like with everyday? People in little areas, working like robots in their own little section, on their own little project. Now I was one of them, working on my own little project. But mine was just a tad bigger than redoing their checkbook or paying their taxes as a time passing activity.
So I took my first picture. A picture of my partners, each in their own little cubicle working. Zoned out form the world, and from where I stood, I could see the window into Austin’s office. I was sure I could see a smile on his face. Then with that, I walked out of that office. Forever. Sort of, a month, but you get what I mean. Plus forever sounds better and more dramatic. So yeah, forever.
I took a whole new light on things walking you of that building. So yeah sure I was just walking out of a building for a month but even still the dirty, smelly, stinky, gang filled New York City that I knew looked lot different know. I didn’t see the smoke from cigarettes, I saw the naked tree that had surrendered to winter’s cold. I didn’t see people do illegal trading, or a woman getting mugged. I saw benches, snow, and ice on the railings in Central Park. Then I knew in my head and in my heart I didn’t want to start there. I needed to start there.
Austin had given me no information of want he wanted pictures of and I very much doubt he was planning to. So he left it up to me. Okay. I can do this. For me and for Austin. What was I going to photograph? No idea, so start with the basics, start with nature. I walked toward Central Park. I had to wait for the go sign across the street unless I wanted to create an insti-suicide.
I made my way into the park and looked for a good shot. It usually helps to know what your actually looking for, but under the circumstance I think Austin will forgive me. I found some icy trees, snow, and benches. As I saw my pictures, I wasn’t half bad at taking pictures at all. Today was really beautiful, and the snow made it what it was, so pure and white. You never ever see anything this beautiful in New York City. It’s very grungy. Then something caught my eye.
On the tree. That naked tree I saw from across the street. It wasn’t. It wasn’t naked. There was an icicle on it. It wasn’t an icicle, though, it was more like a leaf. It was a shard of ice that looked amazingly similar to a leaf. It was indeed a shard of ice, I saw no green, it did not encase a leaf. But that shard greatly resembled a leaf. It was hanging from a tree and resembled a leaf’s movements. But a leaf’s summer movements. It wasn’t rapidly flying everywhere in reaction to the wind, but sitting there, still.
This was it. This was what I needed. That picture, that leaf, how could I get it? It was like capturing an animal. It was so beautiful, how dare I encase the image within a piece of paper? I was the only one to notice it; everyone was walking by me without a care. But there was that leaf. That leaf was my picture, my story, but writing a story like that would be emotionally damaging. That leaf, how long was it there? It wasn’t shaking violently. It defied the expression “shaking like a leaf.”
Perfectly sculpted. I felt if I took the picture I could rupture it. Destroy it. It was only a picture, but then everyone would see and maybe this leaf wasn’t meant for everyone to see. Maybe this leaf was a sign for me. Or maybe this leaf was a crossing bridge. This was the picture Austin wanted, I could see it was. This was what he was talking about. He didn’t want me to take a picture of anything, but of something that means something that I could find anywhere.
That leaf was like the threshold of my individuality. My choice. I hated how dramatic this was. I never had to really make a decision by myself. Everyone has made my choices for me. Everyone always told me what to do and how to do it and if it was wrong and to fix it and how to fix it and what to choose and what not to choose. I had never really actually done something for myself. I was shocked at how controlled my life was.
It was like I was a kid again, but at 33. I always said I never wanted to grow up and technically I haven’t. I am always being shadowed and instructed and guided and mentored. What if I wanted to do something on my own? I could end up fired, in jail, or on probation. If I did one thing people didn’t want me to do, I could end up dead or close to it. But this leaf, this shard of ice, wasn’t listening to the rules. The rules said all leaves fell and no natural shard of ice looked like a leaf. Well guess what; look what I was staring at! So I am going to be like the leaf.
The leaf was different from the rest. It didn’t care about what everything else was doing, the leaf did its own thing. There was no rule saying a shard of ice could not look like a leaf so it wasn’t doing anything wrong. But the reason I noticed it was its abnormality. It wasn’t like anything around it. It…it was different. I noticed it on account of the fact it was different. I wouldn’t notice it if all shards of ice looked the same. If it fit in and followed the unwritten rule that a shard of ice was not supposed to look like a leaf OR be attached to a tree not shaking violently against the harsh wind. No!
But then Austin was there. Austin. Next to me. In the freezing snow. Looking at the exact same thing. It was like we were connecting through the leaf dangling on the tree. I felt connected to another person for the first time ever in my life. He didn’t stare at the leaf’s abnormality. Rather he looked past that and gazed at its beauty. It didn’t need a reason to be there, it just was and who honestly was going to stop it? It had every right of any other leaf or shard of ice to be there. I had thoroughly convinced myself it was a leaf before, but why?
People told me that’s what a leaf looks like and that’s what a leaf does. That is not what a natural shard of ice looks like or does. So I thought I was different. Maybe I wasn’t so different from the rest as much as I thought I was after all.
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