THE 8TH FALL – III


Continued from last week…

She slowly paced across the room, a glass of water firmly at hand, her eyes pensively staring at the walls. She took a deep breath, shaking her head curiously as she made her way to the living room. Bemused, she switched on the light and for no apparent reason moved straight to the lone portrait sited at the bookshelf at the far-right hand corner of the room. That memorable evening at the dance floor with her dad on her sixteenth birthday was forever etched on her mind. Her heart began to race with emotion as she reminisced.

The memory of this evening had a permanent imprint in her heart of hearts.

It all came welling up within her all of sudden. She swallowed deeply as tear drops began to hit the portrait’s surface.

How time had flown. How times could change. She felt so helpless. There was almost no telling how she had gotten here, yet there she was.

The fonts at the foot of the portrait seemed to have momentarily caught a luminous glow that magnificently shone at her face, flooding her heart with nostalgia: Apple of the Father’s Eye Forever!!!

She firmly pressed the portrait against her chest, overcome with emotion. “What a contradiction!” She thought to herself, longing for the golden days all gone by when she had it all, when the glorious scene was everything but the frightening oxymoron it now represented.

Her falls must have been way too many, something akin to beyond cure, so far away from redemption. She felt like one clothed in defeat and disgrace. Yet as she stood there, overwhelmed with all the unfolding proceedings, she knew there was no shifting blame. Looking back, she must have been beaten down way too many times, till there was no more strength or sense rising up. Hers was surely the eighth fall, beyond the wings of mercy and grace.

To be Continued…

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