the color of love
“It’s the darkest night of the month, probably coldest too. The blinding emptiness engulfed the backstreets, which was as barren save for a lone figure stumbling along the grayish boulevard.
The fog closed in on her as she walked along, wrapping her thin hands around herself. It would have been a poetic sight if it weren’t so pathetic. In the midst of nowhere, her dark silhouette looked as breakable as the hands that kind of reassured her.”
How did that sound? If I were a poet or a writer of some repute, the readers probably would have called the description lyrical.
But see I am not a poet. I am not an author. I am not even a college student writing a piece for my creative writing class. I am annyla and am a hooker. I was out on the street on the coldest day of the month to find a “client” so that I could feed my aching belly. Annyla isn’t my real name. but its always sounds better than a simple sally or amy doesn’t it?
See the paradox? It doesn’t seem all interesting now does it?
I was stumbling along the pavements, like a marauder tying to lure in a prey.
But we both know it’s always the other way round, am always pretending.
But I was nervous. I was all but shaking. It could be the chills have finally gotten into my bones. But I think that’s not really it.
These streets were dangerous. There are too many clients always around. They are always up for grabs for people like us.
The night is something we always craved.
But I have never seen the night so abandoned. It seems so devoid of color. Even in its blackness it held an enigma.
Today it seemed so pointless.
I was nervous because I knew I might not find a soul tonight. It was unlikely anymore would be stupid enough to roam the streets at this hour.
I would probably die of hypothermia. But death didn’t scare me. It never did.
But something in me told me that I was about to be a part of something I would regret or cherish, depending on the point of view. The air was all but fey.
What could possibly happen to a cheap hooker like me you would ask? What was it I was expecting? A bowl of hot soup would be sufficient at this point.
But I knew that isn’t the only thing.
I took a right turn. The lights seemed to be out. It’s the darkness that gave me strength you know. But somehow today I craved for light.
There was nowhere in sight. I felt my stomach aching. I hadn’t eaten in 3 days.
I probably would have gone one without food for a few more days but I think I had to get out today. Something was going to happen.
I wrapped my arms around myself again.
My age old coat wasn’t warm enough.
And besides who would want to be with me if I looked like some old hag?
I wondered how I would looked on the inside. Would like look something alike this old worn out coat?
I had been used more than this coat.
Did I look this gray and frayed as well?
I was musing to myself, lost in my own thoughts when I found myself bumping into something.
Someone would be a better word.
A man barely visible in light, he was so lean. But his eyes glowed in the darkness.
I wasn’t qualified enough to say for sure whether it was the fluorescents in his eyes or my own active imagination. I saw him scowl at me, obviously irritated at being interrupted, for he was indeed in the middle of something or else he wouldn’t be here wondering about this late.
Then his expression changed to bewilderment. He had noticed my attire.
Then it reverted back to a bored nonchalance.
I had to take my chances. He didn’t look like a John.
“Need a date tonight?”
He looked at me in a confused manner. So I repeated my quarry. The crise on his forehead deepened as he tried to decipher what I was saying.
He gave up. Slowly he put his hands to his ears, indicating something.
Deaf!
Then he put a finger on my mouth.
I repeated the same thing.
He read the lips this time. His face flushed up instantly. He remained quiet for a while, and then nodded a reluctant yes.
I took his arms, glad I had something warm to hold on to.
It felt nice. Walking down the streets with this strange man it felt weird , in a most bizarre way. My heart was beating too fast for my own good. And I knew it wasn’t a good sign. It should be beating slowly from the want of nourishment.
But an odd sense of contentment was engulfing me without my consent. We stopped as we had reached our destination. I could see a small house looking disapprovingly at us. He took my hands as he opened the door and lead us into his apartment.
I couldn’t see anything. It was frighteningly dark.
He slowly turned me towards him, started with kisses along my neckline, his hands caressing my soul.
The time seemed to stand still as he devoured every bit of me, moaning silently. Small things flashed before me Memories that were all but forgotten. The face of the guy from high school I had a crush on The one who took my virginity and more.
The soft caresses and the promises of the a future together.
A life long gone.
As we made our way to the bed With his hands stripping me from the reverie I longed to regain a part of myself that I had lost a lifetime ago.
I counted the moments with him. I counted the times his hands touched the spot which craved for more. I counted the times when I had the chance to be someone else but lost due to god knows what.
His touch made me feel something I hadn’t felt in a long time. I never had been spooned like a lover just I was being spooned right now.
What was it they said about love?
Was it something only the elite craved? And was wrong for us?
He stopped when he could take no more and looked at me once. Then he did what we were here for. The wad of money was more than what I needed to keep me alive for a few days. I took them, shoved them in my breasts and walked out.
What was it that they said about the color love?
I looked at the darkness and the night closed in , and mused it was probably BLACK.
The fog closed in on her as she walked along, wrapping her thin hands around herself. It would have been a poetic sight if it weren’t so pathetic. In the midst of nowhere, her dark silhouette looked as breakable as the hands that kind of reassured her.”
How did that sound? If I were a poet or a writer of some repute, the readers probably would have called the description lyrical.
But see I am not a poet. I am not an author. I am not even a college student writing a piece for my creative writing class. I am annyla and am a hooker. I was out on the street on the coldest day of the month to find a “client” so that I could feed my aching belly. Annyla isn’t my real name. but its always sounds better than a simple sally or amy doesn’t it?
See the paradox? It doesn’t seem all interesting now does it?
I was stumbling along the pavements, like a marauder tying to lure in a prey.
But we both know it’s always the other way round, am always pretending.
But I was nervous. I was all but shaking. It could be the chills have finally gotten into my bones. But I think that’s not really it.
These streets were dangerous. There are too many clients always around. They are always up for grabs for people like us.
The night is something we always craved.
But I have never seen the night so abandoned. It seems so devoid of color. Even in its blackness it held an enigma.
Today it seemed so pointless.
I was nervous because I knew I might not find a soul tonight. It was unlikely anymore would be stupid enough to roam the streets at this hour.
I would probably die of hypothermia. But death didn’t scare me. It never did.
But something in me told me that I was about to be a part of something I would regret or cherish, depending on the point of view. The air was all but fey.
What could possibly happen to a cheap hooker like me you would ask? What was it I was expecting? A bowl of hot soup would be sufficient at this point.
But I knew that isn’t the only thing.
I took a right turn. The lights seemed to be out. It’s the darkness that gave me strength you know. But somehow today I craved for light.
There was nowhere in sight. I felt my stomach aching. I hadn’t eaten in 3 days.
I probably would have gone one without food for a few more days but I think I had to get out today. Something was going to happen.
I wrapped my arms around myself again.
My age old coat wasn’t warm enough.
And besides who would want to be with me if I looked like some old hag?
I wondered how I would looked on the inside. Would like look something alike this old worn out coat?
I had been used more than this coat.
Did I look this gray and frayed as well?
I was musing to myself, lost in my own thoughts when I found myself bumping into something.
Someone would be a better word.
A man barely visible in light, he was so lean. But his eyes glowed in the darkness.
I wasn’t qualified enough to say for sure whether it was the fluorescents in his eyes or my own active imagination. I saw him scowl at me, obviously irritated at being interrupted, for he was indeed in the middle of something or else he wouldn’t be here wondering about this late.
Then his expression changed to bewilderment. He had noticed my attire.
Then it reverted back to a bored nonchalance.
I had to take my chances. He didn’t look like a John.
“Need a date tonight?”
He looked at me in a confused manner. So I repeated my quarry. The crise on his forehead deepened as he tried to decipher what I was saying.
He gave up. Slowly he put his hands to his ears, indicating something.
Deaf!
Then he put a finger on my mouth.
I repeated the same thing.
He read the lips this time. His face flushed up instantly. He remained quiet for a while, and then nodded a reluctant yes.
I took his arms, glad I had something warm to hold on to.
It felt nice. Walking down the streets with this strange man it felt weird , in a most bizarre way. My heart was beating too fast for my own good. And I knew it wasn’t a good sign. It should be beating slowly from the want of nourishment.
But an odd sense of contentment was engulfing me without my consent. We stopped as we had reached our destination. I could see a small house looking disapprovingly at us. He took my hands as he opened the door and lead us into his apartment.
I couldn’t see anything. It was frighteningly dark.
He slowly turned me towards him, started with kisses along my neckline, his hands caressing my soul.
The time seemed to stand still as he devoured every bit of me, moaning silently. Small things flashed before me Memories that were all but forgotten. The face of the guy from high school I had a crush on The one who took my virginity and more.
The soft caresses and the promises of the a future together.
A life long gone.
As we made our way to the bed With his hands stripping me from the reverie I longed to regain a part of myself that I had lost a lifetime ago.
I counted the moments with him. I counted the times his hands touched the spot which craved for more. I counted the times when I had the chance to be someone else but lost due to god knows what.
His touch made me feel something I hadn’t felt in a long time. I never had been spooned like a lover just I was being spooned right now.
What was it they said about love?
Was it something only the elite craved? And was wrong for us?
He stopped when he could take no more and looked at me once. Then he did what we were here for. The wad of money was more than what I needed to keep me alive for a few days. I took them, shoved them in my breasts and walked out.
What was it that they said about the color love?
I looked at the darkness and the night closed in , and mused it was probably BLACK.