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WORDS (standard:romance, 1068 words)
Author: femalechauvinistAdded: Feb 25 2008Views/Reads: 3222/0Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Have you ever taken time to really think about the words that you so casually use? Have you ever thought that words have lives of their own that you can't control once you have uttered them?

“...He caught the glint of clear grey eyes; and then he shivered, for it
came suddenly to him that it was the face of one without hope who goes 
in search of death.” The words came to her as clearly as the crisp, 
keen feel of the fresh morning air on a mountain top. Words that she 
had read in some book; one of the many books that she, an avid reader, 
had devoured in her eagerness to finish the current book and move on to 
the next.  How the words resonated with her fey mood! She now knew only 
too well what it meant to have a face of one without hope; a crushed 

She sighed, turned for the umpteenth time in her bed that seemed to
offer no comfort. Sleep evaded her. The pain in her heart consumed her 
but this time there were no tears; not anymore. She gave up the battle 
and allowed herself to sink into the depths of pain. And in the midst 
of her agony, words came to her. He was angry, he was hurt and he put 
forth all his anger and pain in the choice of words. “You take me for 
granted; you are selfish; I am tired; you can't prove it to me; don't 
act deaf and dumb; I'm not a mind reader nor a super angel ...” The 
tirade flowed and with every word he uttered a small piece of her broke 
down, shattered and was destroyed. 

The man she loved, the man with whom she had experienced inexplicable
joy and happiness, was looking at her in disgust, almost loathe; and 
his fury burned and it consumed her. But this time, she was not going 
to cry. 

Words, words, words, words! What is it they say? Stick and bones can
break my body but not my spirit? Those who said that must have known 
that there was another innocuous looking but more deadly weapon; one 
that can cut through the sinew of the body, heart and touch that 
hidden, undefined part, the soul, the spirit. Like a sharp sword, 
forged in fires assured to sear any that stood in its way, a sword 
hammered on an anvil of pain, the words he uttered took the shape of 
the sword and tore into her heart, past it, till they found its target; 
her spirit and ruthlessly, they plunged, breaking her. 

Tears started to form, threatening to fill her eyes but she blinked them
away, furious with herself. No more tears. She looked at her watch, 2 
am in the night, still sleep was a rumour that she had heard of far 
away and as yet, it didn't knock on her door. It was a distant thought, 
still roaming wildly in the plains; its journey down the plains and up 
the stony hills to reach her not yet begun. There was nothing else to 
do but continue on the road appointed for her; she was now immersed in 
the pain. 

“I love you; I want to spend the rest of my life with you; you are so
beautiful; you saved me; you are so good to me, you are an angel.” 
Another set of words, uttered in the ecstasy of love; words just as 
strong as the hurting ones; only that these were healing words, and he 
had said them to her. She smiled; a grim bitter smile. How fickle and 
unpredictable life is! How things can change in the blink of an eye; 
how easy it is to lose one's whole life in a matter of seconds, and 
watch as the only one, the love of your life walks out of your life 
without a trace. All in a matter of words. 

His words had touched her spirit, in them, she heard distrust,
exhaustion, threat to her future with him; and they poisoned her 
spirit. She was flooded with questions. Could she never do anything 
right? How can he love her yet distrust her so much? What was it that 
she wasn't doing? Despair started to set in. 

But she was no saint either; she had used the same tool, words, and
inflicted pain on him only it was employed in the reverse. If his sin 
was the sin of commission, then hers was of omission. It was what she 
had not said and done that had started the war. She was more the non 
verbal type; actions speak louder than words; and it hurt him terribly. 
He took it as a sign of disrespect, of taking him for granted and yet, 
she was so used to this form of communicating that as much as she 
tried, she found herself slipping back to omission. Old habits die 
hard, they say. 

When she did use words, they came off as selfish, quarrelsome and rude.
And yet, she too could use them to bring him joy. “You are my man; my 
love, you make me insanely happy; you are so understanding; you drive 
me crazy; I want to marry you; I'm yours for life.” She recalled his 
smile, the feel of his strong arms as he drew her close, the touch of 
his lips, the beating of his heart as she started to drown in him and 
the look in his eyes when he said he loved her. How she loved him; how 
he brought her happiness and yet; how he could bring her pain! And how 
she could bring him pain too! 

She thinks he over reacts but so does she. What would it have hurt to
say ‘I'm sorry sweetheart; I know it hurts you when I do that; and I'm 
not sure that this is the last time it will happen but I promise to try 
to improve.” But would he believe her; would it just be words to him? 
When he tried talking, she became defensive and a deadly silence 
ensued; both of them left to brood in their dark thoughts. 

Ironically, she sits and writes this; another set of words! And the last
words that she pens are a cry of help to the Almighty; “God, I love 
him, please help him see that and Lord, help me be a better person, and 
accept my mistakes when I do make them. If it is your will for us to be 
together, and for this thing to work; then please help us make it 


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