The confused writer
by Janani Amarasekera
She gazed into the computer
screen perhaps for the hundredth time for that day. Still, the writer,
in her, failed to type in an appealing tale. Her usual nature of writing
has left her.
After a relaxing stroll in the garden, she settled back in the
writing seat, believing the walk would have helped to relieve the
tension, and allow free flow of ideas. She remembered how her friends
came to the rescue with various topics.
 ‘Horoscope: Facts and Lies’ and ‘I am not writing a single article
from today and how her witty fiancé suggested that she should write
about ‘How foreign tours are important for career development’,
following her ruckus over his recent foreign tour. Finally, when she
turned to her editor for salvation, she had other ideas and wanted her
to write on something related to fashion.
Having spent the weekend with books, Katie Byron from The triumph of
Katie Byron, Catherine Earnshaw, and Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights,
haunted her days and nights.
The moment the writer started working on the Fashion Article, she
heard tiny voices speaking at the back of her mind. “You adore us a so
much, don’t you? We well worth a mention in your writings too,” voices
said.
After that, concentrating on the fashion article became the toughest
task of all. Giving that up, again she started soaring off towards
idling.
Day became night. Still, slumped on the bed, she thought what she
should write.
A minute or two might have passed; she realized that instead on her
bed, she was sitting comfortably in the audience of a theater in New
York! Wondering if she had gained magical powers to teleport, she looked
around.
The stage curtain moved and a girl appeared behind it. “Janani, in
vain you could not find a topic still!” she exclaimed.
Her beautiful pansy blue eyes sparkled like stars and her golden hair
hung down her back. The writer could not believe her own eyes, Katie
Byron stood before her! Her memory had disturbed the writer’s thoughts
day and night.
She realised that her figure matched well with the description gave
in the book, making it easier to identify her as the writer wanted to
give her deepest sympathies to Katie over Denise’s death. However,
before that, stage lights dimmed and the writer disappeared from the
theater. She fretted for not being able to reply Katie. Later, she
prayed the girl would not think she is being impolite of her.
The next moment the writer found herself standing on an isolated
hilltop, and the cold breeze made her body numb. She looked around,
except for one or two trees here and there, the place looked empty and
quiet. Within minutes, she realised wherever she was she was not alone.
“I have more visitors,” thought the writer. Isn’t that the gorgeous, but
pale looking girl, Catherine Earnshaw? Catherine had a company too:
Heathcliff, the one to whom she loved dearly, but never married. The
writer recognized the rough look Heathcliff gave her. However, the stare
failed to frighten her.
 “He cannot be cruel to me as he did to Isabella,” she argued.
Foolishly, Isabella refused to believe the words of Catherine and Nelly
about Heathcliff. She got herself into trouble on her own. Sometimes,
the writer feels sorry for him too, though his cruelty destroyed a whole
generation. The uneducated soul became a beast because of the love he
had for Catherine.
With all struggles, poor Catherine had to embrace death in her young
age. Amid these thoughts, the writer remembered Nelly’s words about the
ghosts of Heathcliff and Catherine roaming around the hilltop. Hence,
she decided to stay away from them.
However, she badly wanted to see the graveyard of Catherine, Linton
(Catherine’s husband), and Heathcliff. The surroundings became darker,
and it suggested an arrival of a storm. She hurried to the graveyard.
Before she could reach there, she heard a big noise. The next minute,
she found herself on the bed instead of the hilltop, and saw her books
on the ground. Apparently, her thoughts during the sunlight hours had
turned into a fantasy dream. At the end of the day, somehow she managed
to write an article for publication. |
