In Pursuit of Freedom

Hues of purple and gold danced across his vision, melting across the bar. He found it fittingly majestic. Warming candlelight reflected off of oak wood, casting a pool of amber-like an apprehensive spotlight. He glanced around. Hands found their way nervously to his hair. He flinched at the metallic taste of blood as he chewed his lip restlessly. Leg bouncing. Stool wobbling. Eyes, flicking back and forth like a cornered animal. Frantic thoughts jostled around his mind, all screaming over one another, voices interweaving and collectively drowning him in a sea of anxiety. His ears were pricked, but he could hear little over the massacre unfolding in his head. Again he desperately glanced around, this time to check if anyone else in his vicinity was experiencing a similarly harrowing time warp in which seconds lasted for hours.

And then he heard it. Footfalls so light, yet bold, that they could only belong to one. The sound seemed to almost grace his ears. Before he turned he knew she was there. The star of the show. Commanding the eyes and ears of those lucky enough to lay eyes upon such a treasure. Her red curls bounced along, humming their little contented tune, almost alive in their vivacity. They bristled delightedly under the jasmine tint of the lamps, which seemed to pale in comparison to her radiance. A hazel gaze panned the room. As she focused, a slight dimple formed on her cheek. In that moment, if it were physically possible, he felt himself fall for her even further. Smiling eyes met his gawking ones. She held his gaze for a moment too long, as if putting him in some kind of alluring lover’s trance. Quicker than he could blink, she began to stride over, bringing the gaze of the room with her. As her mouth began to move, he realised with horror that he could not answer. In contrast to the clamour his thoughts had caused beforehand, all that the stampede had left in their wake was a ringing white noise, dooming him to speechlessness. He saw his name on her tender lips. Her brow furrowed, her head cocked. Lips moved again. She seemed concerned this time. Her gentle hand reached out and found his clammy one on the bar. And to this day he will claim that, in that moment, he saw sparks fly. Eyes locked on their interlaced fingers, he wavered a smile and opened his mouth to speak.

The world slipped sideways, taking his grin with it as he was pulled from her reassuring touch. He blinked rapidly as the green underneath his shoes swam into focus. That green was grass, and those shoes were polished. He recognised this in a heartbeat. This was one of his favourites. The air filled with murmurs and gasps of delight, as his eyes brimmed with tears. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he wrestled silently with his slipping composure. Trembling slightly, he shifted his gaze to the right, knowing what lay ahead. Flaming curls tumbled freely down onto pearly white. He couldn’t quite tell what blinded him, the opalescent gown or her glaring beauty. Legs bowing as the altar seemed to sway around him, he choked back his tears. The closer she glided, the more clearly he saw the dampness of her cheeks and the quiver in her lips. The moisture collected in her lashes glistened as the sun beamed through the sky and encircled her from above. And again, his sweating palm reached for her shaking one as sparks flew through the air.

World tumbling again, the scent of hand sanitizer and distress threatened to asphyxiate him. Blurs of blue bustled past, hospital scrubs squeaking as they hurried around the patients who had materialised in the ward. His foot rapped on the ground, likening a jackhammer powered by panic and joy alike. He had not the time nor the strength to wipe away the single stream of sweat now trickling down his forehead at an excruciating pace. As he frowned slightly, new wrinkles of responsibility creased around his mouth. Skin tightened around his eyes, crow’s feet twitching as his eyes darted around in apprehension. A scream sounded out. Piercing. Summoning. He leapt to his feet with a potent urgency, and onlookers to this day could have sworn that he flew to her bedside. Her hand found his in the crowded room, and promptly crushed it as she cried out. Crimson curls tied themselves into knots of agony, convulsing as they were racked with pain. If it had not been for the pandemonium of midwives clamouring around one another, one may have been able to hear the sickening crack of a man’s hand splintering as it was compressed more than he could bear. He winced as he felt the break, but barred his teeth in a determined grimace and continued to chunter words of encouragement. Screams of anguish and nurses alike harmonised into a christening symphony as they were joined by a new shriek. A shrill squeal unlike any other that had lacerated his eardrums before. A screech which inspired such violent paternity that it threatened to bring him to his knees. And as the world spun once more, he smiled.

As his mind twisted and turned, the infant’s cry morphed to a toddler’s giggle. Little feet padded around his skull, chuckling and wobbling as they went. From a laugh of innocence to questions deep with curiosity, a child queried the world around him. And from a gaze full of wonder to an argument full of rage, an adolescent’s defiant shouts echoed, desperate to roam free.

Somewhere in the distance, he heard a lock click, and a soft voice speak out. His wizened eyes creaked open begrudgingly, taking distaste to being dragged back to reality. A women’s silhouette advanced forwards. He frowned. This was not his woman. He blinked so slowly, that by the time his eyes had reopened she had crossed the room completely. She was fiddling with some medicinal contraption that hung over his head, humming as she went. He didn’t much like her voice. She spoke again, caring but firm. Condescending almost. The busybody hustled out of his view, and for a hopeful second, he assumed that she had left. However, this moment of relief did not care to last. Uninvited, the stiff wheels of his chair trundled towards the grime-covered excuse for a window. Beyond, rain spat spitefully from the jostling mass of grey clouds barging across the horizon. Behind him, he heard the lock click shut forcefully as the door was slammed with undoubted disdain. Alone once more, he gazed down at his hands in sorrow. Canyons of age stretched across the shrivelled skin - scars of wisdom and disability. His wrists, aching like rusted hinges on an abandoned ventriloquist’s dummy. Dissatisfied with the pitiful state of himself, he closed his eyes again and begged for the sweet release of slumber to sweep him from this hell. Freedom came now only in the form of reliving what once was. And as his mind began to darken, a familiar shade of red curled its way into his dreams once more.