Wuthering Heights - The Untold Story

Chapter 2

A moonless night where the tavern was dimly lit and filled with weary souls, whiskey glasses clinked to bid the silence of the door. The atmosphere was filled with intoxication and heavy-hearted men as I cleaned the place around. This was a place where ambiguity of life lies and memories fade into thin air, yet illuminated with low-spirit laughs and whispers to make life less unbearable. Behind the bar, the bartender, deftly poured comfort in the form of liquid into delicate crystal glasses. Each glass offered the allure of brief escape, a momentary refuge from life's burdens.

In this solemn part of the county where nothing really happened. The part, where it was more natural to find mundane than the unordinary. This is the part where upon a fortunate evening arrived ‘the man’- ‘the man’, who was to bring with him an eternity of oddities, an eternity of grief and an eternity of wistful longing. He pushed open the heavy wooden door with an ominous creak, drawing attention to his being. A man with an aura of mystery and intensity, tall and dark in disposition, piercing through everyone’s eyes with aloofness and curiosity. His very attire asserted him as someone that lived among the untamed moors and his long hair gave an unpredictable demeanour that longed for even a glimmer of endearment. Looming in his gloom, drenched with an uncertain stride, he approached the counter of my stature.

“Rum!”, as he ordered a drink, others exchanged hushed whispers and furtive glances.

“You may leave this place. I want a moment to sit with my thoughts alone.” said the man with a cold husky voice yet with a certain vulnerable connotation.

“But I need to clean this place, sir.” I remarked half expecting the stud to tell me off. “Forbid yourself from doing so!” hollered the fellow.

Concluding it as a long night, my mind had given up on fighting a man like him. Engulfed with a sense of defeat, I resigned.
As the clock made his way to three o’clock in the morning, the tavern was almost empty, again returning to the death of silence but ‘he’ sat right there being a ghost of himself. I felt the urge to be intrigued by him and ventured forth to his place.
“Sir, we are closing the place. It is time for you to take your leave.” I said.

“In a tumultuous sea of passion and pain, I have forged in the crucible of life’s harshest trials.” he said in soliloquy.

“What name do you go by, sir? Do you need a place to stay?” I questioned after him. Something about him made me wonder, made me want to know him, if anything, made me want to help him. 

“It is Heathcliff.” he murmured in a low voice. “A place to stay is where humans live, I need a place for my existence to extinguish.” said the intriguing man.

“What is the burden that you are carrying so heavily?” I inquired.
“I would give everything to have her back with me, even my soul for I am nothing but a ghost without her, wandering this world without purpose.” he said almost tearing up.
“Who is she?” I asked.

“Katherine, we need to close the place down. It is getting late.” demanded the bartender from across the tavern.
“Catherine!? Is that you? Is that you, Catherine?” the man implored as if awoken by a sudden shake from his slumber of despair.

“Yes!” I said ambiguously.

“But how can that be? She is married off to someone else. How can that be?” he started wailing ferociously.

“Sir, I am afraid, you must have mistaken me for someone else. I am Katherine but not the one you have lost.” I said with perplexity. But the words fail to reach his ears as the man passes out with heavy drinking and sobbing.

“Katherine, we need to leave!” beseeched the bartender.
“Where do we put the man in slumber?” I asked the bartender.
“We will let him stay here for the night and think about it in the morning. Anyway it’s late.” he said hastily.

As we leave him to be with his phantom thoughts and the tavern, outside, the world was enveloped in an eerie silence, as if even the stars had hushed their celestial whispers. Reaching my room, I found a lonely owl hooting. While its solitary call echoed my own sense of isolation, I closed my eyes to fall asleep, trying every bit to let past the very eerie encounter.

The next morning came with a warm tint of ray. Going back to the tavern was the same tiring job in a loop. The man was still gone in his sleep. I decided to make some tea and wake him.

“Good morning sir, here is your tea.” I placed the cup of tea, tapping on his shoulder. As he lay in repose, his stern countenance was softened in slumber. His brows were occasionally furrowed, betraying the inner battles that raged within his mind. The lines of tension etched into his forehead and around his eyes had momentarily faded away, revealing the faintest trace of vulnerability.

He woke up with a hoarse voice and was staring at my nametag, like trying to find the meaning of a dead corpse. “So, you are Katherine with the K”, said the man.

“Yes sir, you had mistaken me for someone else last night.” I confirmed.

“Well she is Catherine with a C”, said the man while taking a sip of the tea.

“What happened to you, sire? Do you wish to talk about the things you are going through?” Something about the man invited me in, invited me to know him, to hold him close and beseech upon him the affection that was craved by those damp eyes.

“The woman I love is to be married to someone else but…but… my heart still longs for her…” he said with a smirk. “It’s quite amusing to be honest for somehow you remind me of her. “, he said with a smile.
“Is it the name, sir?” I asked.

“Yes, oh! The name! The name, the eyes and the long, dark hair.” he seemed to be more relaxed than the other night.
“Would you like to go for a walk with me, Heathcliff?” I asked apprehensively.

“I believe a gypsy would like to wander more. Where should we head on to?”  he responded leisurely.
“Accompany me, sir.” I said.

We ventured upon this untamed land of beauty. As twilight settled over the moors our spirit seemed to mirror the wilderness of them. His dark eyes, filled with a longing sense of haunting seemed to find comfort amidst the desolation in and around him.
For a moment we both stood there in silence. “Is it the kind of place where you would escape to?” I asked whimsically.
“It is, undoubtedly.” he said with a hint of sensitivity.
“I understand Heathcliff, I too, find solace in this untamed beauty of land.” I remarked at ease.

I found his eyes staring at mine and I couldn’t stop this sight. The sun setting down and our hearts beating at unison, which only made me fall for him even more.

“I am not sure if I am forbidden to ask this but a lady like you would make a good wife out of it. I have lost love and I have nothing more in store to lose. I too want to settle down with someone, give myself a chance to breathe and be someone’s. “, he began with a quiet demeanour.

“I would love to get married to you.” how could I not because it's him, the man I wanted to know and hold. Now that I get to embrace him forever and I am willing to take my chance too.

And thus, our story begun. The story of passion, love, longing, affection. I knew my risks when I took the lost stranger for my man. I knew something about him brought with him an array of looming questions but I could see more to it too. I could see him for the man that he was, body and soul. He loomed with gloom but I could see love behind them as well. And for me, that was all that mattered.