Rebuild Those Memories

Summer has begun…okay.

I’m not fond of this season. The clouds, to all intents and purposes, curse us with raining cats and dogs, almost at any random time as if bawling like a two year old kid. Furthermore, I loathe how clothes stick to the body with sweat, the stench of stale moisture walking in and following me everywhere.

Lord!

Fine, fine, enough of blustering!

Cute cotton ball-like clouds dot the light blue sky that drift lazily in the breeze. A grin like a Cheshire cat plays on my lips as I tilt my face toward the sky, shutting my eyes and taking in the freshness of nature.

 I skip along the pebbled road, trees swaying in cool summer breeze on both the sides and squirrels squeaking and toppling over each other as the long awaited destination comes under my vicinity.

My jaw drops in awe even though it’s not my first time coming here; it’s a paradise and a feeling of being on cloud 9.

Just a few metres above the earth, sits the masterpiece– the treehouse, tiny potted plants and creepers adorning the jutting edges of the house, golden fairy lights twirled around the railings of the small bridge and loosely hanging from the branches with huge windows plastered to the sides. Julia and Aditya’s sense of interior design deserves a chef’s kiss and much more.

Not wanting to waste any time because desperation is eating away at my head like a maggot, I amble up the frail bridge, the house awaiting its favourite member (ha, jokes on me!). I wrap my hand around the door handle, push it, yank it, but that damned old handle won’t budge. I step back and the door gives away with a kick.

I head inside, plonking down on the teal sofa that sits right below the windows, gusts of wind flurrying through my hair. A small teal chair is placed across from me and a miniature bookshelf backed up against a corner. The small fan overhead doesn't do a great job since sweat trickles down the length of my spine, beads forming on the forehead, but anyways, I like the tingle of the dampness on my back, when breeze flows in through the windows, cooling me as if sneaking up inside my t-shirt.

Julian, my cousin, also those designers’ son, refused to accompany me, saying the property’s mine and shooing me away with his fingers in disinterest. Julian’d play in the treehouse when he was a kid, but as he grew up, he got detached from it. Thus, the treehouse’s mine unless someone barges in, declaring it as their own.

I ponder over how unnerving it is to live away from my parents in an unknown city, well, with my loving relatives, but that doesn’t change my mind otherwise. Their determination over the unerring choice of institution has brought me here; into the wondrous yet disclosed world of the city.

I spread my feet over the arms of the sofa and resting my head on my arms, drift off to a nap, eyelids slamming with fatigue building up in my body due to the uncomfortable flight.

Continuous buzzing of cicadas interrupts my nap and I jolt up, cursing under my breath. I glare at a huge cicada stuck to the window as if playing an eye contact game with it.

In all but a split second, the door handle clatters and I snap toward it, eyes wide in alarm. The door yanks open, revealing someone I don’t bother much to notice given my hands fly to cover my eyes.

“Aaahhh...!!” Different pitches of voice blend in unison, bombshelled by each other’s presence.

A boy in around his late teens stands before me, staring at me with bewilderment. I gaze at him, his face reminding me of something, of course, he’s charming and has a fresh appeal to his countenance, however, I can’t quite put my finger on where I could’ve seen or met him.

“Umm, hi. You need any help?” I ask as he stays fixed to his spot, hand fisting around the loose handle.

Bro, he broke it!

“Hey! I don’t need any help, but I’m here to spend my time.” He gestures toward the sofa I’m sitting on with a forefinger.

“Dude, this place is mine. I’ve been coming here for days,” I retort, already coming down to the offensive side. “You can’t just hijack it.”

“I didn’t hijack it,” he giggles, a cute little one. “In fact, I come to the treehouse everyday except for a few days as I was busy with my uni work.

My face contorts into a frown and I roll my eyes, averting my direction.

“Well, no need to sulk,” I blurt. “You can come here as often as you please, but remember this place’s built by my relatives, so half rights to me since they don’t need it anymore.”

“Okay, okay, chill!” He smiles, raising his hands and walking in and sitting across from me even though no one asked him to. His gait, easy like an athlete’s, evokes a blackened figure in my head, refusing to fade away, but I dismiss it, annoyance surging its way up through my veins.

 “So, what’re you upto these days? Summer’s really killing it, isn’t it?” the guy, who I don’t bother to ask his name, shoots a question all of a sudden, perhaps to break the awkward silence veiling the room like a thick grey cloud cascading over the sky to rain.

“Nah, nothing much and I’m totally loving summer, usually I despise it, but the atmosphere around the treehouse is unlike and enjoyable.”

“You seem to really like the treehouse, huh?” his handsome box-shaped grin, shows off his perfect bunny teeth, as white as snow and I find myself adoring it. “Alright, I’ll make sure not to nudge you from next time.” He says, noticing my snapping behaviour.

“Nope, you’re allowed here,” I say, my tone slowing down. “It’s just–it’s just something that keeps popping in my head, a black figure, some person I think I’m familiar with, but can’t understand who.”

“Okay? What do they look like?”

I glare at him from my peripheral view, “do I need to describe–whatever, so it’s this friend from years ago, shoot, I’ve forgotten his name!” massaging my temples, I continue, “he has soft brown hair like yours, eyes of the most beautiful grey I’ve ever seen and an athletic build.”

Only when I meet his same hued eyes, do I realize something.

What? No. He’s dead, isn't he?

“He was my only friend, my best friend,” I bury my face in my hands, holding back the tears welling up in my eyes. “He died in an accident or something.”

Tranquility prevails in between us as the palms pressing my eyes bring darkness, somewhat calming me from further breakdown.

“Anna?” The boy, yet again, shatters the silence, this time calling out someone’s name.

I look up, catching his mesmerizing gaze; his eyes holding something, a look of acknowledgement. 

“What?” I say, but rise up, moving closer toward him as he gets up too.

“I don’t know who the heck is Anna, but I’m Aanya, an-“ Before I can complete my sentence, my head collides with his chest, enveloping in a hug, his arms securing around my waist and his chin resting on top of my head.

“How is this such a huge coincidence?”

Tears gush down my cheeks, not wanting to halt. It’s him, it’s him. I knew his death was all but a lie.

“Hunter. I, now, remember your name.”

“I missed you so much. Every single day, I hoped my best friend would return back or that I could reach out to her.”

‹Hunter›

“I can’t believe it, but what happened? All these years my mother told me you were dead and I had doubts if it were really true.” Aanya muffles, her voice ringing like a song in my ears.

Aanya and I were as thick as thieves since we were twelve, maybe it was something more for me as we reached the age of fifteen.

It all turned upside down when my dad, a criminal, had gone amok and left the house. It was midnight when he sneaked into the house, rummaging through our safe. Mum had caught him red handed and dad shot her twice in the chest, perhaps, due to panic. The gun shots had terrified me and blown my mind. I remember, pouncing on dad in anger when he pulled the trigger, the bullet, damaging my waist. I suffered from head injuries enough to erase some memories, some precious ones.

“I traveled to this city because I thought I could escape from the place which still haunted me and brought back nightmares and I had no idea I would see your face again,” he says. “And, I’m sorry, but I don’t remember much of my memories; our memories.” I say, a teardrop escaping my eye.

“You remember our love for capturing cicadas?” Aanya asks,

looking at me with her adorable eyes, those eyes which never failed to captivate me.

I shake my head as she sits back on the sofa, the warmth evaporating in an instant.

She gets up once again, grabs my hand and entwining her fingers with mine, pulls me toward the exit.

“Then lets rebuilt those moments.”  

✨✨ ««https://pin.it/1gV3S9y 👈 have a look at the treehouse and someone pls lemme know how to insert a pic in here, if there's an option available;))»»