Serendipity Part 1

It was a cold and rainy night when it all started and I was by the window listening to the music composed by the journey of raindrops from the sky to the ground, and I needed a sign of love, not necessarily romantic love but just pure love. That which colors the horizon and watches over the trees.

“Where is it?” I wondered to myself, it was a question I frequently asked but still could not grasp the answer. One thought lead to another as the rain orchestrated my heartbeats as I curled up and fell into the world I created; my dreams.

My friend invited me over for breakfast the next day and I have the habit of taking all the time I need to get ready when I wake up, so I knew that when she told me to come at 7 a.m she really meant to say she wants to see me at 10 a.m. It was a weekend so I wasn’t worried about being punctual.

I wore my boots and sat on a chair, doing absolutely nothing while my thoughts wandered. “Coffee” I realised, that’s what I needed. So that was a motive for me to rush to her.

I took my time walking, steady steps, clear mind.

We were already on our way to a coffee shop that was a 10-minute walk from her house. I ordered black coffee. There is something heartwarming about bitter coffee that I could not put into words.

“My research is due after three days and I’m not half done.”  she said

“I’ll help you work on it as soon as we get back, don’t worry, the whole world can change in three days, the entire world!”

As I was getting ready for my speech to make her feel better and not panic so I won’t panic as a result, I saw a girl walk by the cafe’s window who looked so much like my classmate in fifth grade, so I ran out to say hi but she seemed to be in a rush. The reason I wanted to greet her was her unforgettable kindness towards everyone around her as a child, she was the kind of child who was obviously showered with love which made her, therefore, reflect it. She was heading to the left side of the cafe. As I was walking behind her before calling her name, a man in a black beautifully-tailored suit stopped me and gave me a cookie in a transparent bag with a post it on it saying “you are loved.” He looked me in the eyes for about three seconds after handing it to me, smiled and continued giving out those cookies.

I held it in my hands as I was looking at the yellow post it in the middle of people walking by, I laughed. “Timing,” I thought, “It’s amazing how things work around it”

I ate the tiny cookie and walked back to the cafe as I kept the note in my pocket.

You know what they say? Just ask a question and let it vibrate around the world without expecting an answer, and all the events that surround you will work their way to give you an answer, as long as you open your heart.

So where is love? And how does it surround me?

The moon soothing the night and the nocturnal souls below it, without expecting anything back, seemed to answer me…

© 2015 ALIA SULTAN

The Soul of Inspiration

Inspiration is unexplainable; how it takes shape out of nothingness and forces you to create something out of nothing and make it so beautiful, or ugly enough to be beautiful.

“Begin to write” the creature of the void whispered in her ear at 3 a.m as she was in the middle of the strangest dream where there was something in her brain that felt like electricity spreading throughout her body and the sound of an ambulance and everything that did not make sense in a dream, it was as if her body was a city where everyone was loud and busy.
“Begin to write” the voice whispered closer, as she woke up covered in sweat and shivers to the sound of thunder and raindrops making music.
Half conscious, she began to type;
“Who am I and what is my soul made of?”
She drank a glass of water as she glared at her typewriter, wondering, asking questions it cannot answer with the echoes of raindrops.
She stared at what she wrote long enough until it seemed to answer itself; sometimes no answer is an answer.
“Who are we, really?” she smiled, as if a secret was disclosed upon her, making its way through her cells at 3 a.m.
“Begin to write” she listened, more relaxed in her body, she did what she was supposed to do; she listened to the creature of the void in all his nonsense and non logical times when he’d ask her to do things; to create and write and become. She listened carefully to him and to herself until there was nothing else left to be said.
Then she went back to sleep, anticipating his splendid return.
© 2015 ALIA SULTAN

The Secret Glade

On the path that she was randomly and aimlessly taking down the green hills and in between the blue and white hyacinths there was a river. She stood there in the middle of the glade which was located somewhere she was not familiar with, her eyes tried to encompass everything as she gasped; the kind of gasp that is only heard before such splendid beauty that even the thoughts in your mind would stop to admire. And somewhere in the middle of all the colors, there were the pinks of dawn, so rich in color it almost stained her white dress.

On her skin were patches, they were not visible to the eyes but they were deeply, disturbingly felt, like poison. She held her hair as if a ponytail and swayed her left foot on the surface of the river

“What was that making the river so luminous, so alive?” She did not understand, as the sun was not visible yet. Nothing was flowing along with the river, there absolute silence besides her breath and the waterfall.

The water was a bit cold, but not cold enough to make her think twice about testing the waters further. She kneeled down to clutch the bottom of her dress in both of her hands so she would dip her legs fully inside. And as she did, the patch on her upper right leg detached from her skin and immediately dissolved into nothing in the water, and a tingling feeling of relief ran through her veins. Without thinking twice, she dipped both of her legs and drenched her body in water, and it was as if the water kept reducing the weight of something she carried for long. She looked up at the sky and thought she must have spent at least six hours here, but could the same thing that was making the river glow, make time as weightless as a feather?

She opened her eyes and it was 3 a.m and something was different; there wasn’t a hint of a patch left on her skin.

But where is the river? And where is the secret glade ?

© 2015 ALIA SULTAN

To love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you’ve held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.

-Ellen Bass

“The One Who Calls You Beautiful”

I want to be the one who calls you beautiful every day. Who texts you goodnight and sweet dreams, and then good morning and that I hope you have a great day. I want to be the one to kiss your forehead, nose, then lips. To intertwine our fingers when I grab your hand, whether were walking around on a date or sitting on the couch watching a movie. I want to make you your favorite food while you sit on the counter and talk to me. I want to open your doors, and pull out your chairs. I want to make you smile when you’re crying and it seems almost impossible. I want to talk to you until you completely forget what you were upset or stressed about. I want to take you out to lunch and on fun, spontaneous, and exciting dates, and to a nice restaurant every now and then. I want to surprise you with flowers when you least expect it. Write you notes whenever I can, and make you CDs for your car. I want to meet your family and hangout with them and be as comfortable with them as I would my own. I want to let you win at games, but pretend like I didn’t. I want to be the one to play fight with you over something meaningless, like who has to remote, until we end up wrestling on the ground. I want to get your drink for you when were at a party together. I want to be the one to give you my jacket when you’re cold, even if it means im in a short sleeved shirt in the rain. I want to be the one to make you laugh uncontrollably and I want to make you feel comfortable and indescribably happy. Most of all though, I want to be the one to sweep you off your feet and make you feel how you’ve never felt before.

Alex Kang