strange allure
The table laid in front of me that held something with a mystifyingly wild allure. So sublime was it that I felt like a man devout whose dying wish of being called to be embraced by his god was being granted.
The rational mind was at a loss in explaining to itself what exactly was inside this sordid, dust-laden room that held to such a high degree an agonisingly tantalising draw.
My steps had the strange quality of being tentative yet eager.
Among the contents of the table there was a book placed on one corner
It had a strange symbol on its front cover.
All the rest of the world got blurred for me.
Gently I placed my hand on the dusty leather cover. It left an unmistakable impression of not having been touched by human soul in quite some time
"Dear god what is it? What sort of place am i being mesmerised into arriving."
an inexplicable layer of dread was hovering beneath a quasi imbibed stream of consciousness and yet I took the step towards the table. One hand lifted the book and opened it.
There emerged a luminescence so bright for a moment it all but blinded me.
The book almost fell from my then trembling hand.
every corner of the room was now engulfed by a light the colour of which resembled aurora embedded in the skies of the Northern most part of the world.
"What is happening? What is leading me to this strange cabin, to this one room, to this particular book?" Thought I
Is it magic? Am I under the spell of some kind of hallucination? Did someone drug me?
What was it that I was here for?
All I faintly remember by then was that I left my home in a state of almost unbridled exasperation. I was walking without any clear sense of reaching some destination. I was just moving. Trying my best and failing to subdue my anger. After I covered ground that stretched in miles i was overcome with a pang of remorse. i felt i did something terrible to my wife by confessing, in words that were rather harsh, that her incessant refusal to provide me with any meaningful attention causes me to despise her. The sentiment wasn't wrong. The manner in which it was expressed clearly was.
The hand that held the cup of her evening tea stood halfway between the table and her lip when i uttered those words.
She was dumbfounded, even slightly beguiled upon witnessing a rare eruption of her husband's rage
She eventually came to the decision and announced it. I was to abandon the home then and there
the time of my life that i spent with her made me acutely aware that she could not risk being perceived losing relative dominance in the power game in which we both found ourselves locked in that moment.