RIPPED (OFF)

SORRY LYON BUT HARRY IS MY PORTAL

I returned for the holidays and met a major shake-up among the stewards. The faces I used to know were gone. That was new.

However, what was of interest to me was a certain lad with a remarkable allure that rode into the farm while I was perfecting a new dance steps in front of the mirror on the tree house.

I had caught a glimpse of him snaking down the sloppy road to the house.

He looked interesting in an unusual way although I couldn’t say exactly what it was about him.

I took a quick peer in the mirror to align my hair before I headed for the window for a better view of him. But he had zipped down and closer to the foot of the wall of the high fence and was screened off my sight.

Undeterred, I hurried to the door but was only fast enough to see his back as had pedaled past my tree house heading towards the penthouse.

Although I hadn't gotten close enough for detailed scrutiny of what it was about him that tugged my attention, his aura promised something eerie in a good way.

I was as sure about that as I was sure that my name was Light. Instantly, I scrambled out of my dance dress frantically, wriggled my body into my clothes, descended the fastest I ever had to from the tree house and raced back home.

When I drew closer home I saw his bicycle abandoned in the open yard, leaning against one of the electric cars that carted people around the farm. “What impetus!” I mumbled under my breath.

I cast a glance around and caught his back about six hundred meters ahead. Just then, he disappeared behind a corner of the building.

His back was broad, and his shoulder muscular in the T-shirt he wore on a pair of black jean pants which projected his well-toned legs.

He was blond and tanned and a cursory look placed him somewhere around 1.6, 1.7- meter tall.

I hastened up in hope that I would capture his face for a perfect imaging, but would drop my pace when I drew closer in the direction I had seen him disappear.

When I got to the entrance and cast a glance at the long, I could not see him walking through the passage leading to the offices.

I was nonplussed for a second before I recovered and I leveraged the appealing scent that trailed him, sniffing the smell to fill my lungs.

“That’s certainly the scent of the Carnal flower” I told myself.

As if it was allowing me a peep into what awaited ahead of the day, the smell soon receded, gave way to the smell of freshly mowed leaves and occasionally, sweet scent of the flowers that the cool sea breeze from swept generously across the home.

So, I had just my instinct to trust.

Pertinaciously, I toured about the house in few minutes but could neither find him nor anyone of the stewards I could remember knowing or known long enough to inquire about a certain lad without it getting to pressmen.

I may have been eighteen and in college, maybe ready for love, but certainly was still unprepared for pockets of gossip that might rife among the stewards and certainly not ready to make the news.

I was going to return and ambush him at the tree house, waiting for the moment when he would come to pick up his bicycle and ride his way out of the property.

But since I just finished a dance, I opted for a bath.

So, I avoided the elevator and raced through the stairs to the first floor for a quick shower.

I couldn’t use the soap on my face. I couldn’t risk closing my eyes. I didn’t want him gone while I labored to rinse off the foam.

I didn’t want to go through the suffering of completing the drawing with pictures I made up in my head. I just wanted to see one more thing, his face.

The moment I denuded and waded into the Jacuzzi, I looked through the large window and caught a sight of someone in clothes that looked like the one I saw him in, peddling up the hill outside of the fence.

I sprang off the water and hastened closer to the gigantic window to have a confirming view at the open yard where his bicycle was rested, leaning close to the shrubbery.

To my disappointment, it was gone.

At the first instance, I presumed that like the few others who worked here, he didn't live on the farm. But I could hardly form that opinion when a horrid hollow feeling descended on me.

It would feel despairingly worse by the seconds like a labor pain. By the evening, I felt like one who missed out on the last train heading home on a Christmas eve- helpless - downcast.

“Do something about it”, a scratch of thought gingered. Creatively, my mind sourced images to sculpt a perfect a face for the attractive body of him trapped in my head.

I picked some facial features of the few men I knew, but in the end, only those of two men featured prominently- Lyon’s and Harry Portal’s.

Although the protagonist character in the popular series of the British J.K. Rowling that I have immersed myself into since I returned home was described as a scrawny- skinny and pale spectacled little boy with awkward ‘untamable’ black hair when he was growing up, I aged him down to fourteen when he was said to be actively chased by the girls.

Even when I aged him further up, I did remove beards off his face, and this was because Lyon looked better than our densely bearded father although an exact copy of the older version.

Again, I ignored the thin face Rowling gave him and focused more on the bright green eyes, ‘startlingly green eyes’ as described by a scholar and, and on the straight nose, though also said to be relatively shorter than James’.

When the night fell, I was still torn between these two and having my brother in the real world and around me was making me tilt to favoring him.

Whenever I shot a glance at him, my blood ran hot and a pleasurable sensation would taxi from my head through my backbone, down to my pelvic region.

It bothered me as much as it pleased me. I had no clue where that stood on the moral scale. I wanted to ask Martha but I was unsure about how right that was.

Therefore, I decided to recline earlier than the usual and tried to figure it out on my own.

Moreover, staying away from the rest of the family members could allow me the solitude needed for the task and more importantly I hoped that my brother’s presence would have less influence on the final result.

The decision was the right one. I completed a perfect creation favoring Harry. Somehow, I felt no guilt for settling for that which wasn’t Lyon’s.

Choosing Harry’s face didn’t quite work out as I hoped. The sensual imageries that deluged my mind vanished, although temporary - Imageries of ‘what would have been’ if things had been different.

I would resume, fantasizing relentlessly.

Thought of him spurred me into soliloquizing in frustration. Now, I recall it all, from the notes I hurriedly jotted down on my mind while I chased him through the yard, to the poems I wrote for him far away in Switzerland.

I remember how I was going to look him squarely in the face and ask him to tell me his name. I recalled how I planned to dub him Harry if he had said Pete, Jude, or Ethan.

Do know that the features of a man that appealed the most to me out of a sea of others must mimicked those of Harry Portal Do take it that as the why Harry was my favorite name for a guy.

“I am going to rudely dip my hand in his pants pockets after I have accused him of lodging a talisman in them.

I know he would laugh it off as a big joke, but while he still would be cackling in disbelief, I would reinforce it with a more ridiculous one, asking him why his face resembled that of a man with a penchant for black powers.

I would cajole him to confess to his father being a sorcerer or taunt him to own up to possessing some voodoo machinations- a typical Harry Portal won’t be without some dark powers after all.

I would altogether dazzle him with silly levity and unleash my superior charm on him until he had a taste of how he made me feel.

I know his heart will pump unusually fast when he catches the fever I will infect him with. Then, he would come chasing. I will unashamedly crumble for him like a pack of badly shuffled cards. It would be the time to choose the words that will tangle the knot and knit his heart to mine forever.”

When the turn of events oscillated in the opposite, I found my disgruntled self in bed, singing a different song after it became obvious that he was gone from the farm.

“Now, this wanting will linger endlessly on…”

I was forced to pause. An intriguing fear tugged hard on my heart and incited hopelessness. Echoes of silent voices reverberated in my head a thousand times, assuring me I would never get to tell him any of these.

Sad, I tossed about murmuring words of prayer to douse the thoughts which however appeared to move me closer to the edge of emotions.

“Whatever that is, whoever that was; you could decide that it isn’t a goodbye yet… my little darling.” I was startled to know that I wasn’t alone. I hopped off the bed and cast a glance in the direction of the voice and found my father standing, leaning leisurely by the glass door.

He seemed to have heard all of it. It bothered me just a little because I wasn’t sure about how to react.

However, the warmth in his voice and his words bore some supporting effect, fueling the right impulse.

“Dad”, I bellowed, hastened some brisk steps, closing down the distance between us. He swung open his arms and welcomed a rewarding hug as I latched my arms around him, resting my head momentarily on his breast.

He ran his hand over my hair tenderly to smoothen it, shoved me lightly by the shoulder, gesturing me towards the bed.