A Walk That Led To Love…
A story based on the Reedsy writing prompt entitled “Write a story about someone who can’t sleep, and decides to set out and explore their new city at night instead.”
He couldn’t sleep that night. He was tossing and tumbling in his little bed. He ran his fingers through his hair. He was thinking about her. He woke up and looked in the mirror opposite his bed, at his face. He crawled back into bed, his heart ached thinking about the last time they kissed. He remembered how she held on to him, clutching onto his arm.
He remembered how they both sat together on the beach, looking at the receding waters on the shoreline. The memory of her eyes looking into his made him feel very warm. He knew it was a small argument so it didn’t mean anything. He longed for her. He longed for sleep. He couldn’t understand why he couldn’t sleep. He was guilty about something.
He decided to get dressed and take a walk. It was only 4 a.m. but there seemed to be no other way to make the time fly by. He locked the door behind him and walked into the street wondering if his favorite cafe was open.
As he walked along the road he felt an enigmatic mystery about the air around him. Everything seemed to take on a life of its own. He knew there was no one there, but as he walked along the path, he seemed to find beauty in everything. He found the cafe, but it was closed for maintenance.
He looked at his reflection in the cafe window and made sure his hair wasn’t unkempt. He walked around looking at the tall buildings, and the trees that seemed to whisper a common sentiment that resonated with the feelings in his heart.
He walked slowly down the block. And as he looked at the sky, he saw that there were countless stars. He wondered about the beauty of the Universe, about how small and insignificant he felt as a small creature, who was just part of the gigantic circle of life.
He walked and walked and found that most of the shops were closed, with the shutters pulled down. He was a night owl sometimes, someone who liked being productive even unto the wee hours of the morning. He seemed to find solace for his aching heart, he thought of buying a cigarette to calm down his unkempt mood. But something in his heart told him not to.
Suddenly he looked at some sort of building that looked more like a small castle. He couldn’t tell what it was, since the street lights close to the structure were not working. When he turned on his phone flashlight, he saw that there were the words ‘St.Mary’s Chapel” written on the signboard outside the gate.
He was wondering whether it was a good idea to enter because it had been a long time since he had entered a Church. As someone who was brought up in a religious family, he rebelled and moved out because he found his parents were too autocratic for his understanding.
It had been two whole years since he had moved out, and he even had an on-again, off-again relationship with a woman he found intensely attractive. The woman he was thinking about, was the very reason he couldn’t sleep.
He entered the Church. There were a couple of nuns sitting far away from where he was. While many would ridicule women in the habit, he had a silent respect for them. One of them reminded him of his mother.
He seriously had not been to church in ages, so he never understood religious people. However, he knew somehow he was not forgotten by God. He wondered why these women made such huge sacrifices and spent all their time serving God and serving the community. Though it was hard for him to imagine himself as a monk, he knew that without people like them in the world, Society wouldn’t be the same.
He crossed himself and whispered a small prayer. He knew God would hear it. He prayed for direction and clarity. He also hoped against hope that his lover would come back because he did indeed feel something for her.
He walked out of the church, turning back once because he felt watched. He turned around and no one was there except the altar of God, and the nuns who were venerating it. He pinched himself, knowing he must have been dreaming. Was he a saint? There was a long way to go before he proved it.
He decided to walk back home. Walking into the Church and seeing the nuns praying seemed to have had a ‘wholesome effect’ on him. He felt calmer, and for some reason he felt peace. He didn’t seem to worry that the love of his life wasn’t messaging.
He decided with all of his worldly wisdom that ‘Love is like a butterfly that is free to go where it wishes. if it came back to you, it’s yours, but if it didn’t it was never yours in the first place’ He felt like the peace in his heart helped his mental faculties make a better decision. He only had God to thank.
He walked around looking at the tall buildings, like he had done before. The trees seemed to whisper a common sentiment that resonated with the feelings in his heart, something he noticed earlier as well.
He walked slowly down the block back the same way he came from. And as he looked at the sky, he saw that there were countless stars. He wondered about the beauty of the Universe, about how small and insignificant he felt as a small creature, who was just part of the gigantic circle of life. But now he wondered about his mysterious Church a few blocks away, and how it would add meaning to his life.
He walked and walked and found that most of the shops were closed, with the shutters pulled down. Just as he had noticed before. This was because he was a night owl indeed sometimes, someone who liked being productive even unto the wee hours of the morning.
He opened the front door of his apartment and walked into his comfy warm home. He looked at a picture on his wall which had an ornate gold frame, and the words “With God all things are possible”. He went back to sleep. An unusual feeling of goodness dwelled within him. When he checked his phone, there was a message from Darla his love interest of many years.
He was overjoyed that he had played by the rules. He slept fitfully wondering whether that midnight walk was part of God’s plan to understand that there was more meaning to life. He thought about messaging Darla after he had gotten a good night’s sleep. Doing small things with great love seemed to be working for him. The butterfly did come back. Maybe it was God that whispered in its ear.
Like the way I write? I also have written some short fiction stories, should you like to check them out
Some of my articles got published in ILLUMINATION, hmm, would you like to check it out?
And finally, I wrote a book, that’s on Amazon, a little bit more about it:
If you’re feeling like it, you could show me some love ❤ and add to my tip jar
