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Ecstacy...

Posted in By Eon Heath 7 comments


He watched her through the corner of his eyes. He knew if he looked at her directly he wouldn’t be able to resist her.

“You know you want me. Why are you fighting against your will? You are going to give in ultimately, then why not give in now?” Her voice was no less intoxicating than she was. The husky tone in which she spoke could seduce even the sanest of man to want her.

He looked at her. The white of her gown and her ochre skin, how could anyone resist her? He remembered people warning, “She is a wildling. A temptation best not submitted to.”

His mind raced to the first time he had her. It was curiosity and intrigue. And yes, desire!! Desire that was fuelled by the many tales he had heard from men who have had her before. To say, the first time was not even close to the hype he had created in his mind. She was ordinary. But then he craved to have her once more. The craving, led to habit.

“Am not a habit love, am your addiction.” She pouted her lips inviting him to taste her again.

“No you are not. I can cut you off anytime I wish. Not yet. Not so soon. I wish to savour you a little more.”

She laughed at him. Mocking him. “You are so na├»ve sweetheart. Am the only one you have known, and I have seen many of your kind come and go. I am the apple Adam couldn’t refuse. Its death I give you in pieces. And knowingly you accept it. Why can’t you just accept that I own you? You are a slave to me.”

Her words didn’t register in his mind, for he was drinking in her sensuality. He was reliving the last encounter with her. Remembering the ecstasy. He walked towards her and kissed her full on the lips.

“Yes, am addicted to you. Not because I need you every day, because I need you at my worst. I need you when everything else fails. And so, am addicted to the drug you infuse in me.”

He exhaled a thick ring of smoke, and the conversation in his mind ended.

The Ending...

Posted in By Eon Heath 6 comments



Their hands brushed. He glanced at her, but she didn’t seem to notice. His heart skipped a beat in that miniscule of a second. The jostling street felt empty, as if it was just the two of them on a long walk to nowhere. Like the bright light that blinds out everything else.

Just when he was still indulging in her, she held his hand and started chattering. Just about nothing in particular, and not even looking towards him. It was like the most natural thing to do for her. Hold his hand and walk. He was lost in her, so enchanted by the moment that the very existence of time seized.

He intertwined his fingers with hers and just closed his palms tighter to feel her more. She still didn’t seem to notice.

The flowers on the way,
they danced at your name,
they love you they said,
wish even I could say the same…

Conversation seemed to just flow. Having no start and no end, just as he wished it would never end. The moment would go on for eternity and more and she would just be there holding his hand.

She spoke about random things, trying her best to veil the excitement, the anxiety, in her. He had come all the way just for her, and she wanted to take away from this moment all that she could and live a lifetime with him in it. She couldn’t make herself look into his eyes, for she knew they would betray the reality. They, her eyes, would speak her heart out. She knew, he had a way of reading them. He could just look into her eyes and know if she was happy or sad, if she her heart was distant or at peace. She would ask him how he could tell, he just shrugged. For him, her eyes were the keys to her inner self.

She liked the way he held her hand, it was firm yet gentle. The way he looked at her when she spoke, she noticed it from the corner of her eyes. She revered in the thought that today, he was all hers and there was no one or nothing that could steal him from her.

If only she knew, he was hers from the moment she fought with him the last time they had parted. A good bye made remorseful by the fight. A fight with no reason but stemming only due to the fact that it was the last time they would be seeing each other for a long time. A fight, for not wanting to say that goodbye. It was that fight after all, or rather the goodbye, which had made him come back. Just for a few hours if not for a lifetime. To bid that final goodbye with a smile. And see her enough to remember her by, for till tomorrow. A tomorrow that even he knew, deep inside of him, would never come.

Silence endured,
Pain that love bestowed…

“Well, this may be the last time we are meeting.” He said, looking away from her.

“Why? Won’t you come back?” She nudged him to look at her, searching in his eyes, searching for an assurity that even if he never came back, he did want to.

“Whatever for? The last time I went, I didn’t come for 4yrs, and then too, I came back for a reason. This time, I don’t have any. I don’t think I would be coming anytime soon. There is nothing for me here.  And as it is, you would be getting married in a couple of years, what’s the point of me coming?” She noticed the smile fading off from his face, which was rare. She could hardly remember a time when he wasn’t smiling.

“You wont even come for my wedding?”

“What has your wedding in store for me? Why would I come? What will even do at your wedding?”

“Why does anyone attend a wedding?”

“Some come for the food and some for socialising. I wouldn’t be knowing anyone except you, what will I do?”

He didn’t tell her that he couldn’t possibly make himself see her with someone else. Neither did she tell him that she didn’t want to be with someone else. Unspoken words poured out from their eyes, yet each shrouded them with doubt.

She sat on the edge of a footwalk gazing into the distant horizon. He sat a little behind her so as to see her without being seen. She felt his eyes upon her, yet didn’t have the heart to look into his and ask for answers.
She knew, it wouldn’t matter. Some things are never meant to be. Him coming today was his way of telling her that it mattered that he saw her one more time. Just once more, for forever.

They talked about everything but themselves.

Pain in your eyes,
you hid with words disguised,
A love long denied…

The sun had set, and it was time for him to leave. She asked him to stay for the night and go in the morning. He denied knowing fully well that if he didn’t walk away today, he would never be able to. He held her in his arms but she walked away from his embrace.

He didn’t pursue and let her go, for what never begun could never end.


- Eon Heath

p.s. - Nothing.


Image - Google.

The Mirage...

Posted in By Eon Heath 3 comments


His eyes opened. The dim light of the lamp illuminated the tent. His mind slowly crept back to reality. It was the same dream again. Lying in embrace, feeling the warmth of her body, holding close in the cold December night. He got down from the bed. The cold sand under his feet sent a shiver through him. The sand, it felt good. The golden hue of the lamp made his tent feel alive.

He walked out of his tent, into the desert. The sand was white against the silver of the moonlight. The sky, blue. Deep blue, almost to a shade of black. The moon, pearl white, and the million stars that lighted up the sky, gazed upon him. As if ascertaining his insignificance in the two vast oceans across him. The ocean of stars above him, and the ocean of sand below at his feet.

In that divine silence of the night, he felt an urge to fall down. To embrace the softness of the sand, and to feel her in them. To feel the wind carrying the sand from the dunes just like it blew the tufts of hair from her face, into his own. It was at this moment that he heard a distant voice. Faint yet distinct. As if it was calling out to him. He gazed over the horizon, the sand stretched for miles till eyes could see. He felt he saw a speck of black moving somewhere. Like the black of the Hijab worn by the Bedouin women. He followed it. As he grew closer, the voice got clearer. It was singing. The song felt similar, though he couldn’t understand it, he knew it was calling out for him. He followed the voice into the groove of the date trees. Then he saw her. Her face radiant in the moonlight filtering through the date leaves. Their eyes met. The song had long stopped.

“Noura, is it you? What are you doing out here at this hour?”

“I heard you call out to me. You called for me in your dream.”

“What dream?”

“Of the cold December night, in that faraway land of yours.” He gazed at her in bewilderment.

“That wasn’t you. And how could you even possibly know?!!” His voice was frail. Uncertain.

“And yet, here you are” she said.

His mind raced. Back to the dream, back to that night, back to her, to his Emma. He never had been able to forget her completely. It was the very reason he had volunteered for this expedition into the Saharan desert.
“But you are not her…” he said again. His voice meek towards the end. The urge to believe was taking over. He wanted to give in. Submit himself. He was tired of running, just for once and for all, he wanted to lie down in that abyss.

“Not in flesh, but in soul, I am the one you seek.” And she walked toward him. Gently taking him in her embrace, holding him close.

The years had taken its toll on him. He slumbered into the sand. There was a strange comfort in her eyes. And he drifted into the faraway lands, where they were together.

He heard someone calling out for him. He saw Ali running towards him. Slowly the events of the previous night dawned upon him. His mind raced to Noura. He heard Ali again. His mind panicked. How could he possibly explain to Ali why he was lying there in the desert with his daughter. He turned around, but Noura was nowhere.
“We have been looking around for you all morning Pashaa. Noura said you weren’t in your tent when she brought your morning Chai.”

He remembered the saying of the old wise men of the Bedouin. “Fee jinn hena. Meen nafar shouf ada jinn. Nafar tabaan, nafar majnoon..”

“The desert, it’s full of mirages. It will only show you what your heart desires. Even the sanest of men lose their way.”


He wasn’t sure if he had lost his, or found one.


- Eon Heath

p.s.- The Arabic isn't perfect, but it serves the purpose. 
p.p.s- This also happens to be my 50th post here.. :)
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