morraha's blogs

India Ink

August 16, 2012

His inkwell had run dry, now he wouldn’t be able to continue his work until the shops opened in the morning. Shoving himself away from his chaotic desk, the man stumbled to the bed. Maybe tonight he could actually glean a few hours of sleep before the sun rose and inevitably ended his restless slumber. Dropping to the mattress he closed his eyes and hoped for oblivion.

As soon as his breath gained the slow rhythm of sleep a series of soft sounds was heard and a young girl stepped from the shadows. Her hair was black as India ink, and her pale feet sounded like the rustle of paper as she tiptoed to the bed to stare at the man. Despite his current repose his eyes still bore the marks of many sleepless nights and his face was etched with the lines of a deep sadness.

Shaking her head in frustration at her inability to ease his pain she moved to his desk to see his latest work. A no less painful sight awaited her there. The entire surface was littered with dark pages, the exhibitions of his bone deep melancholy. She remembered the days when his pictures had been filled with light. The tears that welled up and spilled down her soft, rose petal cheeks did nothing to alleviate the somber images. Instead the running ink served to darken them further, increasing the already prevalent gloom.

Dawn found him again rising from his worn mattress. He was resigned, by this point, to the fact that he would never again get a full night’s rest. Trudging to his desk he looked over the work he had finished the night before. Another sigh of resignation slipped past his lips as he stared down at the papers. Once again his work looked even sadder than he had left it the night before.

Tearing his eyes away, he looked up to the small frame that held her. The wooden shell encased the hand drawn image of a girl, done in blackest India ink. Her dark hair fell around pale shoulders and framed soft cheeks that gained their color from the pale pink paper she inhabited. Turning away before he spilled tears of his own across the desk he forced his feet to carry him outside. For her sake he would at least attempt to interact with the world. He still wished though, that he could have her by his side again. She was always able to lighten his darkest moods.

8-16-12