Love, On A Withered Path.

The night seemed to be still and abandoned. The gentle breeze of the midnight could be felt by every nocturnal creature.

A few hundred meters away is an owl which repeatedly hoots, at the discomfort of rather invincible residents, whom appeared to be embedded in profound ignorance of the late-night-world. The crickets and other creeping creatures of the night were not left out in the fleeting party. To these living beings, it's a free world! A world temporary devoid of humans--their greatest enemy.

The moon did not shy away from shining at it's peak, on the earth and her subordinates.

Almost neutralized by the moon light, the street lights illuminates what was left over. Silhouettes of many variants formed against the background of the duo lights. Some taking the shape of supposed monsters of the dark world. A bizarre night mare for children predisposed to fright.

The strangeness of the night did not hinder or likely to bother a tall dark figure, who was hurriedly walking through the streets of the barren land. His steps were quick, almost with no interval, just like an ancient messenger on an important errand. Absent minded, he passed from one street to another with no clear destination. His Black coat and round hat aligned perfectly with the immediate background. His shoes pressed the earth without remorse. His eyes red, with a distinct vision. His ears were alert and adapted to pick up all minimal sounds present, but he wouldn't mind doing that at least, not this night. He would sigh from time to time, hitting his fist against an unseen enemy in the air, indicating an obvious disappointment, anger and frustration. His heart beat so fast as he placed the left hand on his chest, as if to ascertain the information that was relayed from the brain. His veins tightened as he sweats profusely, although the night was cold. His chronic taste for 'red liquid' was building up. It's something he can't deny nor subdue permanently. The urge is mostly activated by the likes of the plight he found himself, in the night. It's not just an ordinary predicament, it's something that has consumed most parts of his heart, more like a heart disease.

Suddenly, his pace increased. He could have activated his spook-like state and in a matter of seconds, reach wherever he was heading to. But no, he chose to trek this night! Maybe, the whole time he walked something very crucial was going on, in his mind. He was in a deep thought on how to confront or solve whatever that kept him in such a dismay and disarray. Maybe, taking a long rout will buy him more time for that or perhaps, it was another way of getting his much needed relief.

The tall dark figure that maraud in the darkness, was no other than Sam Greenwood. Yes! The very revered Sam! A brilliant handsome, young man is his late. twenties. A graduate of the prestigious Brook's University in Hashville. Upon graduating, he took a job as a High School teacher, one many despised and considered stressful with an insufficient pay, but he never complained. Sam has a passion for teaching and surely has enjoyed enormous respect and support from those who believed in him.

But tonight, he cursed the earth in regret. Perhaps, he was very upset about something that has been eating him up slowly and painfully. It's a 'thing' of the mind. He makes an abrupt stop and covered half of his maxillofacial region with his right palm, the elbow resting firmly on the left palm, a gesture that portends confusion and a lost in thought. He stared at the infinite heaven like an experienced astronomer studying the galaxian bodies, then began his journey again. He was probably heading home, after spending greater part of the evening at a bar, where he had glass after glass of whiskey, with the sole intention of alleviating his mental distress. This has not helped either, to arouse any happiness, as his body system was built naturally to withstand alcoholic intoxication.

Not too long ago, he met with his purported fiancee who gave him the shock of his life. She had told him on the phone to go his way, that it was over between them for a reason best known to her, which she has refused to disclose. He had tried all the magic tricks he knew to lure her into opening up, but she seemed resolute on her bizarre decision. Those phrases he heard on the phone had kept him in abject confoundment. This was the main reason he did met her to establish the gravity of the issue. She retariated her prior stance, leaving him emotionally shattered. 'How could she do this to him at this point in time in their relationship? Does she actually knows how much of everything he has invested in her just because he was convinced she was his destined soulmate? Was she aware of the pains he had been passing through, even right now? How can he start all over again after familiarizing with her for almost five years? Can he ever love or trust again? Will he ever get over this? Was she newly, in love with someone else unknown to him? What exactly prompted her absurd choice?' He silently asked himself, as he kept roaming the streets.

Being carried away in his thought, he nearly passed his destination before turning back to head to his apartment, upstairs. A four story building located on the east side of the town. He hard rented an apartment in the building two years ago from the proceeds he made in the course of his internship. Clara, the love of his life was the first to be called upon to grace his new home. Now she is out of his life.

Without much effort, he opened the door, dashed in and stood at the center of the parlour with his two hands anchoring at both edges of his waist. Appearing like an exhausted wrestler, he nodded repeatedly to the sounds of chaos in his mind. He removed his coat, unhooked his tie, removed his shoes and was about to make a dive in the bed but quickly hesitated. Something had caught his attention. He gazed at the picture on the wall. He tried to ignore the sentiment the picture had revived, by laying on the bed with his eyes closed. As if he was hypnotized, he stood up and began staring at the picture again. The temptation can not be withstood. He had been trying to think less of her but her memory kept haunting him. His emotion was running high--higher than he previously thought. A stream of warm tears gushed down his cheeks rapidly. He rubbed his palms against the eyes in an apparent effort to wipe off his tears. When he could not bear the trouble the picture had brought, he reached for it, took it off and buried it under the rug. This way, he ended it at least, for the moment. He switched off the light and finally laid on the bed. He turned from one side of the bed to another, every now and then. Sleep kept a distance from him. Poor Sam! How could he ever get over the overwhelming mental anguish?