Wednesday, August 22, 2007

The Finer Story Of True Love

I edited my story, 'The Story of True Love,' because I felt it was too short. Mind you, I wrote and posted it using my mobile phone.

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I found it, he said in what was almost a soft whisper. He iterated those words, but with a louder voice, and an enthusiasm so obvious it took the attention of the birds and the squirrels, who gathered around him, trying to take a peek of what he had found. He squealed with unfelt before joy, and his smile grew with every moment. Finally, he had found True Love.

He wrapped True Love in silk clothing made from the threads of the finest breed of silkworms, and placed it gently in an intricately-designed wooden box made of mahogany carved with poems of love in a language that has died long ago with its people, and the box was littered with diamonds, sapphires, rubies and every other kind of jewellery that he knew existed. He sprayed the box with a perfume so sweet, bees from a mile away thought it was pure nectar from the rarest and most beautiful of flowers.

True Love was dear to him. There were days he felt he would gladly defend it with his life, and felt obliged to shower it with the most extravagant of decorations designed by the finest sets of hands in all of the world.

Once a day, he would take True Love out of the box, gently stroking it with his hands, looking at its every detail, wishing that True Love would stay with him forever. His eyes still transfixed on True Love, he would then take it outside, to his magnificient garden where the most vibrant of orchids and the most elegant of roses were grown. Time would seemingly stop at this moment, as the beetles and butterflies stopped to stare in awe at the spectacle of True Love. By sunset, he would then put True Love back in the mahogany box, telling himself how fortunate he had been to find True Love .

Then, one day, when he fell to deep melancholy and especially needing consolation, he was surprised to see that True Love wasn't in the box. He could come with no explanation as to how it could have disappeared, as the box had never left his sight. He questioned all his servants and maids, even accusing them of hiding True Love for their own benefit. In desperation he offered a handsome reward to anyone who could bring True Love back, but as thousands came to his door claiming they had found True Love, he found them to be either liars, con-artists, or just grossly mistaken.

In desperation, he returned to the enchanted forest where he had found True Love, at a lake no one knew existed, untouched by anyone except himself. Chills came down his spine as he had seen the lake transforming as he stepped on the soil surrounding it. The water had become as red as and thicker than blood. It smelt of rotting flesh, and the surface was unsettlingly still, as if death itself had infested the waters. He could feel the presence of unknown, malevolent creatures, eyeing him, waiting for him to fall into the lake. For a chance to devour his very flesh and soul. He tried to ignore this, and looked desperately for True Love, but again, he found nothing.

He spent the rest of his life, looking for lost True Love. His reward became unclaimed. His servants and maids have left him, convinced that he had lost his mind, unable to realise the fact that...

The moment he wrapped it in silk and put it in the mahogany box, he had lost True Love.

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Re-reading this edited version, there's a lingering feeling that this feels as if it's just an afterthought. It doesn't quite flow, but I think it says a lot more about what I wanted to say than the shorter version. I originally intended to put in a lot of symbolism and metaphors about love, and I'd like to think I succeeded here. I based the style on Neil Gaiman, but I can never say it's as good as his stories. I think Gothic fairytales are a joy to write, since you've got both the artistic license to exaggerate and bend truths, while at the same time address mature issues and discuss multiple themes.

Tell me how you think of the story, even if you think it's pretentious bullshit or just plain boring. That means I get to flame you. Hahaha. Kidding :P

Signing out

Over and out

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