Longing. Have you ever felt it before? A slow creeper, it's sudden presence like a bolt through your entire being. And before you realize it, it's already bloomed and blossomed. Feeding off of it's host like a parasite, bit by bit until finally, you breath your last. Passionate, it's petals, red and huge and drooping at it's edges, it festers like a mold, spreads it's toxins within your system until it gets hold of the tiny little thing you call heart and with it's sickly claws, it digs in. A permanent stay in waiting. It's not gonna leave, it's not gonna have enough or say stop, after all it's being fairly nourished, fed with it's host's pride and hesitations and excuses. A false pretense that claims; she is fine, he is fine, he'll be fine, she'll be fine, even with such dark bloody petals looming over them.
And until you take a step( not a diversion), until you stop waiting for the first to give in, until you stop saying maybe tomorrow or the next , until you stop justifying... You'll continue to feed the venomous plant that resides within you.
It is surprising how the same words could be taken in such contrasting ways. Longing.
With it's sickly claws it sends one in a rampage, a maddening need to fullfil the lost and the gap it latches onto their anchors driving them into hasty decisions and such decisions could either leave the gap an everlasting cave, fill the tiny gap with the wrong fit, some let their desperate need to fulfill, drive them to a permanent edge.
And there are others who take longing's venom differently. Those who are a stark contrast to the former hasty ones. They are the few silent takers. They take whatever it is that longing throws at them. Lips shut tight, actions compressed and bound by their very own self control, they make no hasty decisions, they refuse to fill the gap that blooms their longing. They are overly careful. Completely in control, (or at least that's what they assume), until they find themselves clutching sheets tight, gripping the invisible claws that only dig deeper into their hearts, screaming silently to the dawn for a new day to make haste.
Longing kills a warrior, a knight, a king, a pirate and a thief no one escapes it's claws, no one is left unbranded. So you can pretend you're fine with such petals of malice blooming above you, keep your struggles at night and silent screams to yourself, tell yourself it would grow dull with time, and whisper you're fine. Keep holding on to that pride, keep the excuses coming, keep hesitating, keep on taking the wrong steps, keep feeding her, keep nourishing it's roots and convince yourself it shan't bloom. Silly little you. One day you'd wake up and you'll be no more, lost to it's large embrace, your feet moving on it's own, lips speaking for it's self, and heart beating towards the direction you had held it back from heading before. You'd butcher your horse then, for taking you to her, you'd rip you legs from it's hinges for walking you to her, you'd cut your tongue for confessing words without your consent, you'll tear your eyes out for they won't be yours to control anymore and they would stare unrestrained, unbound and longingly at the cause of your despair, and in your shocked confusion and weakened mind, with your hands dipped in your own blood and mind a mass of lost strings, longing shall still be with you. Guiding your torn limbs into a battle you had fought to avoid. Funny, you'd thought you held on for long enough to shoo longing away. To stop your heart from singing her name. And yet the longing you'd thought gone would drug you by the hair and you will crawl to her feet unto her door step. You will beg for her attention and for her simple glance, your bleeding and lost to longing body would still move her way, tracing her steps until she's no more. Until you are no more.
They say a knight drew his sword unto his heart for it had failed him, the say a warrior had lost a winning battle for his eyes had betrayed him, they'd followed his heart into the opposers home where he knew surely his people will destroy all she has left of her family, the warrior had lost a winning war, his heart had been driven by the poisonous claws of longing. He had been so sure he'd driven the sickly thing away after holding on for so long, he couldn't have her, (his excuse), he couldn't go to her, (his hesitation), they were from two different worlds ( his justification) , he couldn't possibly gamble a war for a weepy princess( his pride). In the end the dead eyes of his corpse would stare far east a path to his source of longing. A king, had lost his head the same way. ( He shouldn't stop her, he can't have her, she's merely a commoner, a measly daughter of a weaver. And yet the measly daughter shall take his heart and ran along with his dead mind leaving behind an empty husk of what once was).
They all go the same way, the prideful little ones who assume they could hold on long enough, long enough to shake of longing's sickly claws.
Purple was rather beyond vexed at the moment. She had fallen in the void between holding on to her longing, clutching on to those painful claws until they slowly fizzle away and letting the damned unrelenting feeling drive her crazy with need and desperate want.
She had done everything she could possibly do. And yet they wouldn't even look her way, and so what need was there to do more. She was willing to give up. Maybe this desperate ache would fade away on its own maybe she'd be fine even if their absence caused her such distress in the dark night. Maybe she'll be fine even if she were this lonely.
The kitchen didn't feel as welcoming as it used to, she had no business being here. And yet she knew it was better to be here than to be alone in that big and lonely room. She was probably going to make a home of the kitchen, it seems no one minded her presence anyway.
She had also caused enough mayhem in the kitchen and the devastated and frightened eyes of the cooks as she had poisoned those dishes had finally gotten to her. She felt guilty for making their work so hard. Kantama had strangled and strained all things positive, all things kind and all things good from it's residence. However the people were yet to know they were different. Every one lived a life similar to his or her neighbors, dying, trying to survive. Everyone suffered the same way or even much worse, there was no variable to proof they were living a very wrong life. The lives of the inhabitants of Kantama lacked the control experiment to push a rebellion or a protest, or any fighting back. So far as they knew, it had always been this way, life was the same as it's been every day. Morality, kindness, pity, and most of all guilt, they were all foreign concepts to the people of Kantama's hell. Considering your life unfair meant you were part of the foolish protesters. Those who had blindly believed the words of their slaves from the world outside. They were too blind to notice the plain truth in Kantama, the grounds of Kantama weren't owned by it's people as the slaves claimed their lands were. These lands are owned by the lord's and Kantama more so owned and made a home of by the three most dangerous Lords topping the list.
However she was not one of them, she had grown up with neighbors who had a choice, she had grown up with the lords. And the Lords had more a choice to make than anyone else in Kantama. That freedom might have somehow bred the subtle and simple positivity within her. The ability to feel guilt over something so slight. She didn't know exactly how she felt about that. She might have asked her men how they felt too if only they hadn't decided to ignore her like a pest.
" No more fun tricks today?"
She looked up at the sound of the aged voice, and just as she'd expected, she found Chef Thomas's eyes staring eagerly into her own. Chef Thomas was the oldest staff in the estate. She learned from Don and Dan that he'd been here for as long as they could remember. The old man was kind of weird in a very silly way. He served Dan and Don. She knew she was the lady of the house however, she also knew that most of the staff here would stand with Don and Dan should there be any haywire. However this elderly man seemed to favour her and encourage her in the most bizzar way. He had never once tried to stop her when she put the inedibles in his masters' food. Sometimes, he even seemed to be having more fun than she was. It was so childish to see him suggest this and that, and what would cause what effects and what wouldn't, however she had most definitely enjoyed his company. She had first thought she would have to throw a fit before being allowed to do whatever she pleases in the kitchen however being with him as the head chef had made everything easier. Maybe he enjoyed pranking his young masters as much as she had. She liked Chef Thomas maybe it had started with his delicious and unquestionable cooking , however as time went on, the old man had become someone she never thought she could have besides her Don and Dan. Family.
The old and yet passionate back of the man before her, looked like the perfect picture of what a grandpa should be like. Maybe she should call him that.
"Hmm~ I'm guessing you grew tired of it. Hah~! Such a pity, we were having so much fun.. "
Maybe not. She had a feeling she'd always get into trouble if she stayed beside this childish old man.
"You wanna tell me why in the world you're crouched down that way? Is it a new one of your yogurt techniques?"
"It's yoga not yogurt, and I told you, that was not what I was doing I was just...just stretching okay!"
She had tried to practice a technique she'd seen on her phone, it was a yoga practice technique for beginners and she had almost split her legs while trying. In the end, she had been in an awkward position with her legs wide apart and her arms twisted behind her back, it was shameful enough that she had to stay that way until someone passed by to help her, but who would've thought the someone who'd pass by was the old goose who refused to let anyone collect vegetables for him in the private garden.
It was her fault too for practicing something like that in the secret garden. She was just trying to hide from prying eyes and the last thing she wanted was Dan teasing her for not being able to do something so simple.
And yet another worse tease found her.
"Ok, ok, youngsters these days never admit their mistakes...Aye.. The world is coming to an end... You hungry, little girl?"
"Who are you calling a little girl?!"
" I take that as a yes then.."
"Who says I'm hungry. I'm not hungry okay. I'm not going to eat anything.."
"Oh I see, so you haven't stopped the little protest then, you just... changed tactics?"
"Starving yourself is a bit boring though don't you think?"
"It's non of your concern!"
" Sigh~ you're right, it isn't. Let's go yogurt, I want to show you something..."
Purple would've thought twice about it on a normal occasion however today she was so bored and aggrieved she could use any distraction, even if it was this old talker.
" And it's yoga!"
" Yes...yes I heard." He heard nothing and was definitely still going to tease her, she was a hundred percent sure about that.
" You heard nothing, and I wasn't doing that I was just stretching!". She had to let that stick into his forgetful and aged head.
" Yes, okay I've heard, now let's get on with this if you're done pouting."
" I'm only going to stay if you stop teasing me ." Really, if he didn't stop making her more annoyed than she already was, she was going to go back to her lonely room.
" That wouldn't be so easy, but fine if that is going to stop you from glaring such daggers. How could one be so short and so fierce at the same time, such contrast...it just doesn't make sense."
" okay I'm leaving.." She was done with this. Someone else could make a grandpa of him. And she was definitely willing to sell this guy off.
"Oy! Fine I'll stop. "
"Hmph! Speak fast or I'm leaving."
"Understood little miss."
"Yogurt, did you know that egg salad is the world's best dish?"
" I didn't, because that's not true." Who was he trying to lie to. She wasn't that dumb okay.
" Well the chef says it is, you should trust the chef. You see, the chef always knows.
"
" Whatever, what did you want to show me?"
" Look here, little miss."
She traced his actions to the counter where a bowl of washed veges sat beside a chopping board and a knife, she watched him make good work of the vegetables he picked. As expected, his skills were impeccable. Really, only if he wasn't such a tease he could make a good mentor too."
" To make the best stir fried egg salad, you'd need to indulge all your precision and skills to provide the attention it seeks. Too thin, and they'd burn, to chunky and they'll be under cooked, everything has to be set perfectly to create the perfect condition for a perfect egg salad. The heat not too high and not too low either. You should know to flip it right, and to turn it in ways that creates a perfect crisp and retains the juicy freshness of your dish. With all that skill and hard work you'd be in control of the dish you make on that fire, in your hands, it won't burn, if you toss it right it won't be overcooked, if you flip it nice it would create the perfect mix that rounds all the flavour and causes a combustion you expect."
Before she could comprehend what was going on, a sizzling stir fried egg salad was softly singing in the pan and she had watched him make it without even daring to blink, the skills, the precision, who would've thought one needed all that to make an egg salad, his explanations were a hymn to that playing drama, she really didn't dare to blink, entrancing...
" Now the most important of all... The presentation. It shall tell whether all your work had been for nothing or whether you're gonna take the trophy home as the rightful winner. It's a simple dish, really. However to the one who craves it, it could be everything, and so you find the beauty in his eyes and you create the best of his favorite dish, the most beautiful it could ever possibly look in his eyes, and surely, you'd be the trophy's bearer. You'll demand the attention and gain the affection, you fix the craving and feed them whichever way you want."
"Gurl~gurl~"
"Says the person who wasn't hungry a few minutes ago."
She could tell he was teasing her again. But who wouldn't get hungry at such a sight, it was perfect, the dish on the plate just called for that much attention and demanded you crave it indeed. Her guard had long ago faded to thin air, who cared about starving, she could not even control the growls from her stomach.
" How can an egg salad look so good... Is it really the best dish?"
" No it's not..."
" Huh...heh? You just said...What happened to trusting the chef."
" Well trust me now. The stir fried egg salad I made is no where near the best dish I've ever made, not to talk of the entire damned universe. It only looks like that because it's your favorite. My careful precision and skills did add a touch to it,of course, but that's all, that's it, it's just a simple ordinary stir fried egg salad. Your stomach growled and you couldn't hold it in because you were hungry before, and it's your favorite dish, being made to watch it carefully and artfully cook only made you crave it more. You couldn't take your eyes of it and even now you're drooling and it's because it's beautiful presentation and outlook makes you crave it and you can't stop yourself until you reach out to it.
You see, it really isn't the most epic presentation of an egg salad, you just see it that way, because you love your egg salad garnished this way. And I only know that because you consistently say it. Now then, tell me, what would you do if this beautiful piece was suddenly snatched from you."
" Hey.. Hey what are you doing give my food back! What are you doing!?"
" Yes, that's right, you'd fight to get it back, without being forced or coerced to."
" The truth is, longing has a pace slower than an aching and raging heart. Surely it would drag your prideful unwilling lovers to your feet kicking and denying however it takes its own sweet time. We can't always wait for it's dawdling can we? And so sometimes a little encouragement wouldn't kill the fun, a little messing would be just right, don't you think?"
" What are you talking....."
" So, tell me, Purple, what do you think the boys would see the most beautiful on you."
Chef Thomas was the only one who dared to call her men, the twin devils" the boys " however right now she felt she could even call him grandpa if it made him any happier. Damn, how could she not think of it. They'd said she was theirs, and that they were hers . She knew they wanted her as much as she did them. They loved her just as much too. However she had given up on all hope when she realized she couldn't even get their attention,what she had done was really terrible and maybe she had broken their trust too. She would've felt betrayed like they did if they had done the same to her. If she had returned to find them gone, she would probably loose it too. Maybe she might've taken it worse than they did. The truth had made her cave in, her petty tantrum had been to get the least of their attention if they'd be kind enough to give it. However they had been so unkind, so relentless in punishing her this way. It frustrated her to no end. She didn't know how to start the conversation because they were hell burnt on ignoring her, and she didn't dare to trespass into any of their rooms because she wouldn't know what to say or where to begin. But now she knew, now she could finally, maybe, grab a tiny bit of their attention. And maybe she could apologize then.
"Hey old man, do you know how to dance?"
"Eh? What did you just call....."
"Right, yes of course you wouldn't... I'm leaving bye."
"Hey! You little rascal get back here! Such disrespect!"
Before he could yell anymore, the little woman turned around her smile brilliant, lighting up her already ablaze amber eyes as she waved and shouted out..
"Thank you grandpa."
..
(*_*)
.
"Well, it's not so bad to have a disrespectful granddaughter."