Not a thing was out of place. There was nothing amiss. Yet I knew without a doubt – she was gone.
Naturally, I searched our new home for some sign of her presence, and my legs made the decision for me
and lead me to the place where she was bound to be.
I grabbed my phone and rushed to the park. My feet drummed against the floor of the park, rising and
falling at the same pace as the throb of my heart. The park looked the same as every other night: endless
patches of frosty, sludgy grass; filthy and muck-covered trees which the council adamantly never cut
down to "preserve the park's history"; uncomfortably bright white-light bulbs, which ironically had been
put up by the council to "modernise" the park. If she was with me right now, she would have seen it
differently. Of course, she would have - we were living proof of "opposites attract".
She would've seen a glitter-specked, almost dazzling lawn; moss-covered trees which were older than the
town itself; glowing floating hues whose role was to protect the park and those who enter it.
If I hadn't been so flustered and worried, I would've tried my very hardest to cause some damage to this
park. I could just imagine tearing down the branches of the trees, ripping up the vermillion blades, flying
my foot through the irritatingly-neat pile of autumn leaves near that rotten bench. My mind compelled
me to relive the flashbacks of a few hours ago, our argument that had started with a lipstick mark on the
collar of my shirt that "wasn't hers" and ended with her storming out the door.
All I wanted was her with me. Her presence alone was calming. She was the miracle magic potion that
overpowered any poison.
I remembered the day we met.
I couldn't help but try and woo the prettiest woman at the funfair. Her blushed cheeks matched her rosy,
floral dress. I lead her through every stall in the park - from fortune tellers to the merry-go-round. We
devoured all of the pink and white sugar clouds, buttery popcorn and crispy chips we could find.
Whenever she got near me, I was blessed with the smell of her divine, dewy perfume. I could listen to her
mellifluous voice endlessly. As the park got dark, the bright lights were turned on and the last stall open
was a classic - "hook-the-duck". My hands were slicked with sweat, my heart trying to escape its cage. All
I could focus on was her angelic face lighting up as the hook went through the loop atop of the plastic
duck. Being the true gentleman, I let her choose the prize. We both decided that, as cliché as it was, it
would be the symbol of our love. After contemplating over a parrot or elephant, she chose the parrot,
because she claimed her favourite colour was red.
The sharp noise of a twig snapped me back to my senses. My heart filled with hope, I ran closer and
closer to where I thought I had heard the sound. My mouth dried up and my throat clogged up as I began
to pick up on that familiar divine, dewy perfume. My body was on high alert, I could feel every single part
of my body yearning for my other half. An object in the distance caught my attention. A wave of nausea
smacked my knees to the ground as I looked at what lay in front of me.
A stuffed toy parrot smeared with blood.
Just like that, everything was shattered. She was gone.
He looked my way, I cursed myself under my breath when I stepped on that twig. As he started to walk
towards me, I slipped behind the tree. I relished watching him keel over on his knees at the sight of the
"symbol of our love", cautiously and deliberately stained by me. After all, red was my favourite colour,
right?
Hopefully this would teach him a lesson.
Naturally, I searched our new home for some sign of her presence, and my legs made the decision for me
and lead me to the place where she was bound to be.
I grabbed my phone and rushed to the park. My feet drummed against the floor of the park, rising and
falling at the same pace as the throb of my heart. The park looked the same as every other night: endless
patches of frosty, sludgy grass; filthy and muck-covered trees which the council adamantly never cut
down to "preserve the park's history"; uncomfortably bright white-light bulbs, which ironically had been
put up by the council to "modernise" the park. If she was with me right now, she would have seen it
differently. Of course, she would have - we were living proof of "opposites attract".
She would've seen a glitter-specked, almost dazzling lawn; moss-covered trees which were older than the
town itself; glowing floating hues whose role was to protect the park and those who enter it.
If I hadn't been so flustered and worried, I would've tried my very hardest to cause some damage to this
park. I could just imagine tearing down the branches of the trees, ripping up the vermillion blades, flying
my foot through the irritatingly-neat pile of autumn leaves near that rotten bench. My mind compelled
me to relive the flashbacks of a few hours ago, our argument that had started with a lipstick mark on the
collar of my shirt that "wasn't hers" and ended with her storming out the door.
All I wanted was her with me. Her presence alone was calming. She was the miracle magic potion that
overpowered any poison.
I remembered the day we met.
I couldn't help but try and woo the prettiest woman at the funfair. Her blushed cheeks matched her rosy,
floral dress. I lead her through every stall in the park - from fortune tellers to the merry-go-round. We
devoured all of the pink and white sugar clouds, buttery popcorn and crispy chips we could find.
Whenever she got near me, I was blessed with the smell of her divine, dewy perfume. I could listen to her
mellifluous voice endlessly. As the park got dark, the bright lights were turned on and the last stall open
was a classic - "hook-the-duck". My hands were slicked with sweat, my heart trying to escape its cage. All
I could focus on was her angelic face lighting up as the hook went through the loop atop of the plastic
duck. Being the true gentleman, I let her choose the prize. We both decided that, as cliché as it was, it
would be the symbol of our love. After contemplating over a parrot or elephant, she chose the parrot,
because she claimed her favourite colour was red.
The sharp noise of a twig snapped me back to my senses. My heart filled with hope, I ran closer and
closer to where I thought I had heard the sound. My mouth dried up and my throat clogged up as I began
to pick up on that familiar divine, dewy perfume. My body was on high alert, I could feel every single part
of my body yearning for my other half. An object in the distance caught my attention. A wave of nausea
smacked my knees to the ground as I looked at what lay in front of me.
A stuffed toy parrot smeared with blood.
Just like that, everything was shattered. She was gone.
He looked my way, I cursed myself under my breath when I stepped on that twig. As he started to walk
towards me, I slipped behind the tree. I relished watching him keel over on his knees at the sight of the
"symbol of our love", cautiously and deliberately stained by me. After all, red was my favourite colour,
right?
Hopefully this would teach him a lesson.
