I felt lonely even in the crowded streets and roads of Polterdam. The water near the high, well-made buildings, streamed in light whirls making low gentle throaty sounds. The ebony dwellings were irradiated by the daffodil coloured ancient lanterns which hung, emitting clarity and ecstasy. The air gusted with the smell of the nearby houses as I smelled the appetizing aroma of mouth watering food since many families were gathered today with their loved ones.
Today was the day we call, "The Day To Gather" on the grounds of which people from faraway towns came to meet their close relatives. My house was overwhelmingly suffocated by the presence of the unfamiliar relatives, who I hardly knew about. Mom was busy in the kitchen, her spaghetti was boiling beside the about-to-be-made tea and our house echoed with the laughter and jokes of my family members. But even with their presence I didn't feel like sitting there anymore so I privately left, without letting anyone know in order to not face any unwanted queries.
I stood on the railing which connected Polterdam with the sea. My hands tightly grasping the cold, steel, horizontal bar. It probably should be awfully late in the night as I found myself walking without any purpose but just to get away from the words and sentences which held and defined me. "Hey, you look exactly like Davis." This was the first who said I looked like him instead of being him. "Yes I know but I am not related to him." I replied with the same answer, I say to whoever calls me Davis.
Meet Davis. The famous, funny and most importantly, loved singer of Polterdam. He holds the hearts of the Polters in his one fist. He appreciates people showing fondness to him and his songs. I realised I was walking with the flow of the people. I was moving wherever these strangers wanted me to go. I kept walking and treading and walking and treading until I realized I was standing in front of a sangria brick house starting with the stairs. The people surrounding me were entering the house like they were from a deserted land and hoped to find water in there.
The not-anymore white stairs with the walls whose wallpaper was fissured led the way to a hall. I stopped at the entrance of it. I looked inside to take a look of charming magenta, electric blue and raspberry filters making the lights be the centre of attention. The people inside were dangling with the low rhythm of music and the people outside went in with their shoes on and I copied them. Unknown to the place, I felt homesick and tried to change my mind and sit in the compact house of mine when my hand was grasped by a passerby and I was forced to be in the middle of place. Still unnoticed in front of the glamorous lightning, I made my way to the corner of the place.
Suddenly I was in my senses again. Where was I? In a bar, I guess. Why am I here? Because of my messed up mental state. I realized it wasn't quite a bar as prolonged tortilla tables were placed in front of me which were embellished by the proper alignment of brown chairs, adorned by a silk mauve cloth. A colorful sequin jacket was placed adequately on a chair and by the unawareness of the people, I was sure that it belonged to no one. I removed my shoes and stood calmly. The table contained a numerous variety of different foods. From dried pasta to a glass bottle of rum, everything was available. Nothing was uneaten. I was playing with the edge of a sandwich when I heard someone say, "He is not coming." A staff member said to the other, both of them standing uneasily in such a shade of dark that I couldn't see their faces.
"Yeah, he is still stuck in Shard." The other one said. "It's such an unfortunate thing. Everybody is right now waiting for him. Imagine what will happen, if we will get fired by our boss." "Shut your mouth, Connor, shut those unpleasant things." I wondered who that "he" was. "Davis James, where are you, man?" They both said in desperation. I am definitely sure they read my mind. The name of Davis illuminated a bright bulb in my brain, they can take me as Davis. A thick lump stuck in my throat at the thought. I made my way outside, going through the dancing bodies I realized that I left my shoes there. My brain was constantly saying, "take your shoes, go out."
"There is Davis." I concealed my head with my hood and glanced down at my bare feet. "He is just there." My heart recited the names of God. In less than a moment every eye was pointing at me, expectantly. An undefined path had been made for the bewildered, me, which led to the stage. A piano was being played by a person with long long hair. A person was playing a guitar, so slowly, it seemed like a sad song. I couldn't stand there forever as there were only two menacing chances. Whether I would turn all their hopes down by moving out of this place or decide to be David James for real here and win their hearts. I imagined my family members talking about me. "Outcast." "Depressed. "Introvert". For how long will I be caught in the cage of doing nothing but just listening. Listening to the people about how I am and how I should change myself. Inasmuch of proving myself that I am none of what people say to me, I chose the path which led to the stage, after taking that clear-cut, varicoloured jacket, as my lips twisted into a smile which showed remembrance, contentment and some cherished things I could not name.
The stage was made of marble. The platform was soft and comforting. My hesitation and reluctance had gone. I felt the radiations of veneration and acceptance surrounding me with love and allure. A mic was attached to a tall steel rod. I started with the words of salutations as the audience and dancing bodies stopped and started to scream loudly in order to show admiration. As I sang, they started to hum with me in order to build my confidence. I said all the words which held me back when I used to be Reece. But I was Davis now. I sang like Davis and it was the first time I thought it was pretty cool to be like him and being loved like him.
For the first time in my life I was thrilled to be in his place as I left all my intimacy with my introversion and went open arms to the charm and cheers on the other side of my real life. While singing, a time came when I was nobody, no Reece or David existed, there were only words and letters assembled and trimmed by beautiful rhythms which were strings and beauties and delight and enticements. I was lost in the colours and voices and there was no one who could take me out of it. I couldn't name this feeling. I had never felt it before. My body danced and spun and still I was standing in one place, screaming my lungs out with the people who gathered from dissimilar places and they were strangers to me while I was no one but a pop singer to them.
In the end, I was inhaling air like it was happiness in depression and purity in filth. Everybody was clapping wildly, the crowd had grown crazy, by the end of my performance. I looked at them with such yearning like I had known them before, or they were really close to my heart. I had said a lot, every word utilized, every feeling said, I made my way out of the place, after taking my shoes. I left the sequin jacket on the place it was before, and whispered a thanks for whoever it belonged to as it had helped.
I detected a sense of liberty in the first few beams of sun, which brightened the shady and obsidian buildings. There were a sprinkling of people left. I breathed zest and vitality in the crisp air and it made me feel lively and vivacious. The glistening dazzle convoyed elegance and novelty to me and now even the lonely streets of Polterdam didn't make me feel forlorn.