Feathers Of A Bird

Chapter : Three

(Listen to the music while reading for a better experience!)

I decide to go out for a little walk when the little family decides to take some rest first. Leaving the cottage, I start walking along the deep, dark road which seems to be desperate for someone to walk on. With a certain place to go in my mind, I keep counting my footsteps, wondering what would happen if I go back there.

"It's been 13 years."
I smile.
"And I still don't know clearly WHY I am afraid of it."

As I stroll, I notice considerable differences in the place. I have to admit that it was even more beautiful when I visited it for the first time; conceivably for the person, I visited it with.

"Perhaps Fiona was right. I should be happy to come back here. I should've come back earlier, to try to relive those days. But, I never understand why I feel vulnerable whenever I even think of it."
I say in my head.
"But whatever. Now that I'm here, I suppose the best thing to do will be to try. Try to either forget the pain or relive the happiness. Try to find the smell I inhaled when he was here."
After a pretty long time, I can feel my heart leaping. A smile appears thinking that I now finally dare to face my fears.

But when I finally reach the location I was wandering to, I acknowledge that it was a dreadful idea to make a comeback here after 13 years.

It is a cliff of the mountain which has rusty fences. It is like a wide U-shaped portion of the mountain attached to a steep long-and-lonely road. The fences were newly made when I came here about 13 years ago.
Silly of me to think that everything would be the same- even without the person.

There is a small hut right on the other side of the road. I stare at it as it brings back numerous beautiful memories WHICH do not seem beautiful anymore. They are killing me now when they built me up back then, making me feel like the world a place filled with happiness; only you have to seek for it.

I wonder how easier my life would be if I didn't have those remembering. What if I never did what I did? Would these pain still exist? Is it weird that the happy memories are now the sad ones?

I stand still by the rusty railing, in cold breezes. The sun is strolling down. The ray is fading hastily. And unlike the last time, it's making me more destroyed.

"Who are you?
I hear a cracked voice asking from behind me.

As I look back, I see an old man, of about 70, holding onto an ancient wooden stick.

"Who are you?"
He asks for the second time, with a serious face.

I smile at him.
"Kathy."

"Kathy?"
His voice stutters as he says; consequences of ageing.

I nod.
"Kathy who?"

"Blossom."

"Blossom?"
He, for the first time, smiles.
"You talk like someone I once knew."

"I do?"

"Yeah. She was such a graceful girl, who broke hearts when she cried."

"What was her name?"
I ask.

"I don't remember."
He taps on his head.
"It has been a long time."
He looks at me and says,
"He was a great man, the boy she came with. He cared for her."

"What was his name?"

He shakes his head.
"Nor do I remember him."

He stares at the sunset,
"All I remember is-"