Of a stranger woman of beauty

BACKSTORY: A friend went to a wedding in his village and saw someone very charming. He tried to write about her but couldn’t finish. This is what he sent me.

A friend’s WhatsApp Chat

He wanted me to finish the depiction. Despite me warning him that I kill the boys in my stories, he insisted. So here’s how it goes…

—————————————————————

In black, she appears to be shining like a diamond coming out of a coal mine and overpowers the room with her elegant gait and charming smile.

I can but only wonder at the miracle that has descended from the heaven. I, like everyone around in the crowd, is ready to give his life for her mere look and longs for her attention.

I can feel my heart pumping blood at the marginal rate as she proceeds to walk towards in my direction and can literally feel my heart exploding as she walks across. She smells of fresh roses and jasmine combined.

Did she notice me? Did she not? To approach or not to approach is the question. What if she were engaged? What if she is in love with someone who’s not me? What if she is already won over?

I start questioning my sanity. I start sweating all over. I start losing sense of all. The crowd seems to have disappeared. The storm in my heart and the chaos in my mind seems to have taken over. Everything around her presents a blurry vision.

All I see is her big round eyes submerged in neatly applied maskara, her lashes like arrows fired from the bow piercing through my throbbing heart, her eyebrows presenting a view of a crescent moon surrounded by the clouds of her dark curls while the constellations of her locks revolving over her face like the milkyway in the celestial universe of her own entirety.

At that very moment, she seems like an entire universe to me and I can hear the music of my life. She reaches out to one her females friends and starts talking.

She is serving the Manna and Quail with her heavenly looks and speaks as if she were pouring honey and wine in the heavenly streams.

She sounds like the Beethoven’s symphony. She walks rhythmically as if it were the sargam sung by the folklore. I hear violins and harps and flutes rhyming and synchronizing with my trumpeting heartbeat.

I see visions of white lilies and sun-flowers dancing to the tunes of her talk while I whirl like a dervish. I’m in a trance.

Before I gather myself and grab the courage to go and talk, she’s long gone. Like a daydream, my muse my reverie.

I may not have taken her picture with a camera. I captured her poetic gracefulness and aesthetic allurement with my mind.

I may never meet her again and never see her ever. She will certainly curl up in the hive of my recollection and enrich my imagination.

She will twinkle lucidly in my nostalgia, light up my days, brighten my nights and shape up my future artistry.

I will certainly cherish these moments forever.

She makes me understand when Keats says “a thing of beauty is a joy forever” why he says so.

That brief walk was one of those moments I knew I will remember and look back on with delight and fondness.

She is indeed a joy forever.

PLOT TWIST: I didn’t kill him. But he ain’t getting anything except “the Keats’ Joy Forever”

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