This story is for Sadje’s What do you see #36. Does this picture inspire you to write something? Write an original story, poem or a caption.
I can’t quite recall when I’d met her. She seemed ubiquitous; vivacious and fiery, shy but full of mischief- to me, she personified life itself. Each of my memorable childhood recollections bore a touch of her magic. She lent imagination to my structured mind, colour to my black and white sketches, life to my dull existence.
I’d been scared to inform my parents of my interest in photography. “Follow your passion, silly.” I can almost hear the whisper of her soft voice, smiling my favourite crooked smile. Standing beside me through the months of rejections, disappointments and struggle; her belief in my ability had been the fuel that’d kept me burning even in the darkest of nights.
My girl had always believed in breaking barriers. “Life’s too short to be shackled to archaic notions and rigid conventions,” she would reply to any admonishment or recrimination levied her way.
We were unconventional as far as couples went; never trading ‘I love you’, no grand romantic gesture to prove our commitment, not even sweet nicknames for one-another.
When I’d asked for advice before proposing marriage, my friends had encouraged me to gain some experience. “It’s the time to sow your wild oats,” they’d encouraged, before tying myself to one woman for the rest of my life. But how could one be bound or chained to the one around whom they’d always orbited?
Weeks before our wedding, we’d met at our spot- the wall covered with brightly coloured graffiti. She’d worn a white dress, twirling her tiara and veil in her hands as we leaned against the wall, laughing and joking about the life we would lead post-marriage.
The picture had been part of a joke- the clichéd bride, veiled and blushing. That had been first picture I’d clicked of the camera-shy girl.
We’d had caroused all night, celebration our upcoming nuptials with our friends. At dawn, we’d kissed before driving away, promising to meet at the altar in two days. That was the only promise she’d ever broken.
I never bothered to find out who had been driving her that night or why the collision had taken place. A brief call had informed me that she’d crossed the final barrier; there was no return from her current abode.
Today, I visited our wall. The colourless background seemed stark against the only picture I had of her; her radiance preserved in my Nikon for eternity.
In response to these prompts too:-
Word of the day- Imagination
3TC#284– Each, Any & Brief