Love, On A Withered Path.

The night seemed to be still and abandoned. The gentle breeze of the midnight could be felt by every nocturnal creature.

A few hundred meters away is an owl which repeatedly hoots, at the discomfort of rather invincible residents, whom appeared to be embedded in profound ignorance of the late-night-world. The crickets and other creeping creatures of the night were not left out in the fleeting party. To these living beings, it's a free world! A world temporary devoid of humans--their greatest enemy.

The moon did not shy away from shining at it's peak, on the earth and her subordinates.

Almost neutralized by the moon light, the street lights illuminates what was left over. Silhouettes of many variants formed against the background of the duo lights. Some taking the shape of supposed monsters of the dark world. A bizarre night mare for children predisposed to fright.

The strangeness of the night did not hinder or likely to bother a tall dark figure, who was hurriedly walking through the streets of the barren land. His steps were quick, almost with no interval, just like an ancient messenger on an important errand. Absent minded, he passed from one street to another with no clear destination. His Black coat and round hat aligned perfectly with the immediate background. His shoes pressed the earth without remorse. His eyes red, with a distinct vision. His ears were alert and adapted to pick up all minimal sounds present, but he wouldn't mind doing that at least, not this night. He would sigh from time to time, hitting his fist against an unseen enemy in the air, indicating an obvious disappointment, anger and frustration. His heart beat so fast as he placed the left hand on his chest, as if to ascertain the information that was relayed from the brain. His veins tightened as he sweats profusely, although the night was cold. His chronic taste for 'red liquid' was building up. It's something he can't deny nor subdue permanently. The urge is mostly activated by the likes of the plight he found himself, in the night. It's not just an ordinary predicament, it's something that has consumed most parts of his heart, more like a heart disease.

Suddenly, his pace increased. He could have activated his spook-like state and in a matter of seconds, reach wherever he was heading to. But no, he chose to trek this night! Maybe, the whole time he walked something very crucial was going on, in his mind. He was in a deep thought on how to confront or solve whatever that kept him in such a dismay and disarray. Maybe, taking a long rout will buy him more time for that or perhaps, it was another way of getting his much needed relief.

The tall dark figure that maraud in the darkness, was no other than Sam Greenwood. Yes! The very revered Sam! A brilliant handsome, young man is his late. twenties. A graduate of the prestigious Brook's University in Hashville. Upon graduating, he took a job as a High School teacher, one many despised and considered stressful with an insufficient pay, but he never complained. Sam has a passion for teaching and surely has enjoyed enormous respect and support from those who believed in him.

But tonight, he cursed the earth in regret. Perhaps, he was very upset about something that has been eating him up slowly and painfully. It's a 'thing' of the mind. He makes an abrupt stop and covered half of his maxillofacial region with his right palm, the elbow resting firmly on the left palm, a gesture that portends confusion and a lost in thought. He stared at the infinite heaven like an experienced astronomer studying the galaxian bodies, then began his journey again. He was probably heading home, after spending greater part of the evening at a bar, where he had glass after glass of whiskey, with the sole intention of alleviating his mental distress. This has not helped either, to arouse any happiness, as his body system was built naturally to withstand alcoholic intoxication.

Not too long ago, he met with his purported fiancee who gave him the shock of his life. She had told him on the phone to go his way, that it was over between them for a reason best known to her, which she has refused to disclose. He had tried all the magic tricks he knew to lure her into opening up, but she seemed resolute on her bizarre decision. Those phrases he heard on the phone had kept him in abject confoundment. This was the main reason he did met her to establish the gravity of the issue. She retariated her prior stance, leaving him emotionally shattered. 'How could she do this to him at this point in time in their relationship? Does she actually knows how much of everything he has invested in her just because he was convinced she was his destined soulmate? Was she aware of the pains he had been passing through, even right now? How can he start all over again after familiarizing with her for almost five years? Can he ever love or trust again? Will he ever get over this? Was she newly, in love with someone else unknown to him? What exactly prompted her absurd choice?' He silently asked himself, as he kept roaming the streets.

Being carried away in his thought, he nearly passed his destination before turning back to head to his apartment, upstairs. A four story building located on the east side of the town. He hard rented an apartment in the building two years ago from the proceeds he made in the course of his internship. Clara, the love of his life was the first to be called upon to grace his new home. Now she is out of his life.

Without much effort, he opened the door, dashed in and stood at the center of the parlour with his two hands anchoring at both edges of his waist. Appearing like an exhausted wrestler, he nodded repeatedly to the sounds of chaos in his mind. He removed his coat, unhooked his tie, removed his shoes and was about to make a dive in the bed but quickly hesitated. Something had caught his attention. He gazed at the picture on the wall. He tried to ignore the sentiment the picture had revived, by laying on the bed with his eyes closed. As if he was hypnotized, he stood up and began staring at the picture again. The temptation can not be withstood. He had been trying to think less of her but her memory kept haunting him. His emotion was running high--higher than he previously thought. A stream of warm tears gushed down his cheeks rapidly. He rubbed his palms against the eyes in an apparent effort to wipe off his tears. When he could not bear the trouble the picture had brought, he reached for it, took it off and buried it under the rug. This way, he ended it at least, for the moment. He switched off the light and finally laid on the bed. He turned from one side of the bed to another, every now and then. Sleep kept a distance from him. Poor Sam! How could he ever get over the overwhelming mental anguish?

Clara came home feeling guilty of her actions earlier in the evening. Her conscience judged her every now and then. She had become restless. 'Did she made the right decision or was it a terrible mistake? Was she being manipulated into believing their future was not tied together?'

No one knew when she came home, because she snicked in through the back door and silently creeped to her room. Dinner was not on her mind that night so, she already skipped that a long time ago. Her bed room was as cold and quiet as a deserted land. A room that once flourished with loves songs she sings for his one true love. She would hold Sam's picture in one hand or stare at the one hung on the wall, while she sings her favorite love songs. Celine Dion, Westlife, and Backstreet boys are her main collections. These songs remind him how much she loved Sam Greenwood, as she fantasize the promising future with him. She would imagine her love was close by listening, as she pours out her heart to him under the irresistible manipulation of music. Sometimes, she would call him with no urgency at hand, but just for him to listen to the songs she was playing for him on her medium sized speakers. She brings her phone closer to the speakers. This always leaves Sam cackling like an idiot, after waiting a long time for her to speak, but she never does that. Instead, she allows her love song to play to the end with a tender and romantic 'I Love You More.' Now, all were in the past. Her room will never host such romantic drama again and neither will it be exuberant with love again.

She lay hopelessly on the bed and would wiggle to and fro, from one edge of the bed to the other, in very short intervals. All efforts to wipe him off her memory were futile. Caught in two worlds, she was in a messy dilemma. One of the world's; her mother with her stark warnings to leave Sam and the other; the love she had for Sam.

'Sam has never done her any wrong. He was such a good man. He has shown her more love than anyone else had. He has been her secret source of happiness over the years they have been together. Sam was always there for her in times of her trials and difficult situations. His unwavering love and care has earned him so much love from her. Clara was not a loose, but a strict type. Her conviction of how much she loved Sam, was clearly demonstrated when she let him had his way to 'the land that has not been plundered.' And has remained the only man to know her intimately. Her whole life was reliant on the promised future they both fantasized.

How could she ever let go of him after all the promises she made to be him and all he had done for her? What about the future the planned together? How could he be faring after absorbing a terrible shock from her tonight.' She thought.

Clara had left Sam without looking back. After delivering her bad news, she avoided all eyes contact with him. Deep down she was aware, she couldn't stand him. Sam was an emotional type and certainly, watching him grief will arouse her emotions to a complicated level, such that will lead her into making a hasty decision or reversing all she had told him. All she could do was to be resolute; pretending to be strong (but her heart was a liquid milk) throughout the the whole conversation. That way, she avoided emotional triggers at the spot. However, things weren't easy immediately she left Sam. Tears flooded her eyes throughout her stay in the taxi that drove her home. Uptill now, there has not been any much difference either. She wept silently in great mental discomfort while laying on the bed. She was in deep emotional pains.

Deeply troubled by her thought, she stood to her feet from the bed and walked lazily towards the leaving room. Few paces away from the living room, she anchored on the door like a woman in child labour pains. Her head rested on the door handle while the rest of her body besieged almost the whole length of the door. Her eyes was accumulatimg tears every second like an aggregated deep blue clouds, ready to release heavy downpours without pity. She stared continuously at her mom who was sitting on the sofa with the companion of the television and her coffee cup in her right hand. She would sip from time to time while keeping her eyes fixed at the television.

Mrs Lora obviously, did not notice Clara's presence, her keen interest was on the TV program she was watching. She can't afford to miss her favorite TV shows. The documentary showing, was about people in real life who had supernatural abilities. One will not be surprised given her familiarity with such phenomenon. She was a woman in her mid 50s with a bizarre reputation.

Clara has been gazing on for minutes, totally lost in thought of the one true love she had, that happened to be snatched away few hours ago only by their looming fate. Even though she looked at Lora continuously, her rational thought was not on her mom perse but, remained with her lost Sam Greenwood.

With the aid of her reflex she found Clara who had been in a prolonged gaze. It was her sobs that heralded her presence. Her gloomy face, loaded with barrage of tears waiting to be discharged, sent a strong signal to Lora; her daughter was in deep conflict with her self.

"What's going on with you Clara? You look pale!" Said Lora.

She got up from the sofa and walked up to Clara. She raised her daughter's head which suddenly went down upon hearing her questions. Her tears have reached their limits and couldn't hold any longer, they quickly dislodged from her eyes in an apparent unending rush. The sticky occupants in her nose at the same time, were not left out, they ran with ease as she struggled to contain them. Her mom made a rush for a tissue paper and soon was back and handed it over, so Clara could blow her watery nose and wipe off her tears.

"Thanks," she whispered with a feeble voice.

One of her hands patched on Clara's back and ran down gently to and fro, in a fittingly effort to calm her down; the other grabbed the edge of her waist as she walked her to the sofa where both sat. Like a pet cat, her head rested on her mom's laps while the whole trunk on the sofa.

"Could you pls tell me what's going with you darling? I hate seeing you like this!" Lora began.

Clara has not responded to any of her questions. She was certainly in no good mood for talking.

Her instinct already informed her why Clara was grieving, but she preferred to be in the state of pretence after all, her; Lora orchestrated the unfolding events. She had seen no good in Sam Greenwood, but evil and bad luck. She was a mother who watched out for her children. The Best, she wants for daughter and Sam Greenwood is no a such man. According to her, Sam is a monster who intends to ruin her daughter's life and must be kept at bay at all cost.

She knew her daughter had delivered the message which she had longed for, that was why she wept tonight. Although she was moved with pity, she deemed it right. She anticipated a quick recovery. 'With time she will forget every trace of him and build a new life--a life devoid of Sam Greenwood.'

"Tell me is it Sam?" Lora asked, after taking a sip of tea.

"Yes. It's been difficult for me," Clara managed to utter few words at last. Her sobs never stops.

"I know how you feel, but believe me, you made the right decision," Lora said with satisfaction. She maintained her petting hand of Clara's back.

"Mom! he is the only man I have ever genuinely loved," Clara raised her head slightly. "Ever since I told him those few stinging words tonight, I felt like my heart have been ripped apart," she lamented.

"And so what?" She dropped her tea cup on the table beside her, slightly irritated by Clara's words. "You and I knows this won't work out! He is not your type. You know, don't you Clara? You can't go contrary to the prophecy. If you do, it will end up pretty much quickly and ugly!" She cautioned her daughter.

Clara realizing the heat of their conversation, moved her head away from her and sat up independently on the sofa, in a face off position.

"Sam has done nothing wrong to you. He doesn't deserve such words from you!" She paused a little and began again, "yes, I may not be with him, but he always has a place in my heart. And who says he is not my type?" She raised her voice in protest.

"I Clara!" Her eyes bulged out as she spoke with full force. "I repeat, he is not your type. And so do...." She reiterated her stance, but was quickly interrupted by the already fuming Clara.

"And so what mom? Do you really care about my feelings?" She said with tears in her eyes. "How am I sure you really cares for me?" She casted a doubt.

"How could ask such Clara? You know I cares about you, a lot!" She said, with the intention of calming her, but it was too late.

At this point, Clara lost it.

"No you don't! You only care about yourself! Only your self mom!" She lashed out, charging in a war of words.

"Clara!" She called in amazement.

"Oh God! Cut the crab mom!" Clara interrupted with a scornful look in her eyes and words in her mouth. "You don't care about me. You are just after your selfish interest," she said to her mom.

"No I'm not. I'm just watching for my daughter," she defended before continuing. "You know Clara, I warned your sister not go through the same path some time ago, but she bluntantly unheeded my warnings. Today what happened? You and I knew how it all ended. Now, you want to make a similar mistake? You want to go down that the same path Clara? That's never going to happen as long as I'm alive," she replied her daughter in defiance.

She stood up and was half a meter away from the path to her room, when she hastily turned to listen to her mom again.

"Clara!" She called her in astonishment.

"Mom, I have a question for you. Do you really know what love is?" Her question made Lora stunned, raising an eyebrow in the process. Nevertheless Clara proceeded. "Do you know how excrutiating it is to let go of someone you loved so much; someone who has done you no wrong, with no basis for dismissing him from your life? Do you mom? Answer me!" She demanded in a weakened voice, with already flooded tears, oozing out.

"Sam Greenwood is evil. He will put you in a harms way. We are from two contrasting worlds, can't you see that? He belong to a dark world--a dark world I have fought so many years of my life. I can't just let my integrity be compromised just because you are in love with Sam. The dooms day predicted will come to fufilment. Don't even dare to disobey. Stay away from him permanently or I will do my job," Lora replied. This time, defiance and threats lingered in her words.

"What will you do Mom? Hope it's not what I'm thinking right?" She asked in nimbleness, as well as with horror on her face.

"If that's the only way I can wipe him off your mind, then I don't have a choice". Lora reaffirmed.

Her last sentence didn't go well with her daughter. In bitterness, Clara stood up, about to exit the scene but dropped some igniting words.

"You are terrible mom! So inconsiderate!" Clara spoke with rage, pointing her index finger at her Lora's direction. "Taking his life will be my red line. Be ready to take mine if his life is ever found wanting! You will surely regret it!" She threatened and advanced to the direction of her room.

She knew what her mom was capable of, and would go any extent to clean up people like Sam Greenwood and his types out there, without remorse. As she stormed the corridor, with vigour on her way back to her room, Lora called, trying to bring her back, but that went on deaf ears. Her mind had been further poised with much resentment, totally displeased with her mother's choice of words and threats.

Like an energetic athletic, she banged the door with fury. Without wasting time, she pressed her whole weight on the bed, adjusting her body till it fit in the right position. Laying prostrate, the ever dripping tears almost soaked the adjacent position to her head. She pleaded earnestly with sleep to take her, but that declined her pleas either and neither did she stopped thinking about him. With the addition of the newly issued threats by her unsympathetic mom not long ago, things were turning out so badly for her. There has never been any night like this in her life. 'What will she do now? After paying the ultimate sacrifice of unwillingly letting go, the one true love she ever had. Was it really her fate or is she walking down the wrong path?

She cursed the day the revelation was made to her. Life is really unfair. Reality is painful,' she soliloquized.

Her predicament was too much to bear. It has become obvious that letting go of Sam was no easy task. The reminiscence of their love was so strong that it kept her crying sorrowfully all night long. She nearly died that night.