Not Any Colour But Black

Their meeting was chanced, just like a shooting star fleeting across the vastness of the night sky. A solitary blink, and you'd lose it forever, anxiously waiting for the next one. It could be just a minute away, but people are known to have waited for eternity, and only see it in their distant of dreams.

"Are you hurt Miss?", Jonny asked as he left his scooter lying by the kerb and rushed toward the lady examining her bleeding knees. In his haste, Jonny only just braked in time to avoid colliding head on with Sasha, who was waiting by the side of the badly lit street. Her raven black hair, covered most of her face as she stooped down to wipe away the dotted traces of blood which marked her lightly grazed knees.

"Didn't you see me?", she muttered under her angry voice, which was assertive, yet soft enough like the graceful notes played on an old piano. "Well, it's really dark, and you're wearing black. I just saw you at the last moment. I'm really sorry",Jonny apologised sincerely. "Maybe we should go to the clinic," Jonny offered.

"Nahh. I'm fine really. Just a scratch. Just a scratch", Sasha said as she looked up to face a very concerned Jonny. Both looked at each other, for a moment forgetting why they were facing each other in the very first place. His looks, an uncanny resemblance to the Korean actor, whose posters littered majestically across the four walls of her teenage bedroom.

Sasha's almond eyes, with a hint of dew dropped wetness for tears sent Jonny's heart racing a few beats too fast. Her wry smile faded away, like the pain that once engulfed her trembling left knee. Coyly, she looked away, smiling broadly toward the dark empty road in the background.

Clueless, Jonny stammered his way into asking Sasha her intentions for waiting by the side of this lonely road so late at night. "I'm waiting for a cab", she answered softly. "Well, at least let me gift you a lift home. It's the least I could do", Jonny persisted.

With a hint of reluctance for the fact that she was probably never going to get a cab there, she agreed. It was really the first time Sasha rode on a scooter, and she gripped Jonny's waist tightly, enjoying the cool night breeze blowing unto her flawless cheeks, and causing her hair to dance in all directions.

"Can I see you again?", Jonny found the courage to ask Sasha as she was unfastening the helmet strap. "Only if you ride a little more slowly the next time!", Sasha wittily replied as she handed Jonny her name card. Jonny beamed like a 10 year old and felt that heavy guilt lifted off from his chest. "The name is Jonny!", he exclaimed after Sasha walked a couple of steps toward her block. "I know! It's written on the back of your helmet, silly!", Sasha shot back, full of smiles.

They met almost whenever they could after that for they enjoyed each others' company. Day by day, as they learnt more about one another, there was just no separating them as their feelings etched closer and closer as one.

Jonny, who was still nursing the wounds inflicted from his past relationship, though wanting, somehow distant himself in confusion from confessing his true feelings toward Sasha. Scared and daring not to venture into another relationship, Jonny remained lull, leaving Sasha lost and wandering in her own sphere.

Then on one windless night, as two hopeful souls confided in each other under the glittering spread of stars, that were given new life from the motherly full moon, Sasha slipped a perfumed coated letter into Jonny's shirt pocket. "Read it once you're home", she requested. The scantily lit night sky gazed gracefully at the two, who were sprawled across the pale white sand on a lonely beach, muttering a prayer of its own, a wishing star shot across the sky, only just catching the watch of Sasha's smiling eyes.

In Sasha's letter, it read:

'Dear Jonny, in this short time that we have known each other, though it started with a bleeding knee, I long for our relationship to not end abruptly with a bleeding heart. I've always looked forward to our meetings and have not met anyone as charming and beautiful as you, inside and out.

I can't help noticing a sheer reluctance in you. The fact that you seem to want to tell me something, but then holding back your thoughts at the last moment. You may have your reasons, and I shall respect that.

But I can't hold it any longer. It's not my style to fall so hard, and I must confess I really like you and would want for us to make that natural progression in this relationship. If you feel the same way, do not tell me Yes. Just put on the black shirt that I got you for your birthday last week to make me smile. And I'll give my heart to you.'

Jonny read the letter for the hundredth time, breathing in her perfumed scent that came with the letter. Jonny went to bed that night, full of thoughts, before finally closing his tired eyes with Sasha's letter still in the clutch of his left hand.

The next day, Sasha waited patiently for Jonny at the atrium. Her heart pounded whenever a man, clad in a black top emerged from the ascending escalator in the near distant. None of them was Jonny.

Then Sasha recognised that neatly combed hair from afar. As Jonny emerged from the escalator, Sasha's heart dropped a million miles below as Jonny had on a brown jacket. Sasha felt like pouring her eyes out, like the heavy rain that battered the road outside.

Both of them walked silently into the ice cream parlour. Sasha was at the brink of just going home as she unwillingly sat on the velvet cushioned chair in the corner of the store. That was until Jonny took off his jacket. He had on that black shirt that Sahsa bought him. Sasha beamed in utter embarrassment for making herself feel silly, and looking vulnerable to Jonny's roving eyes.

Jonny sat down trying to look into Sasha's eyes. "Is that a black shirt?", Sasha asked. "I dunno. You tell me", Jonny exclaimed as he clenched Sahsa's hands with his.

Of How They Met

He looked a picture of subdued nonchalance as he sat on the steps of the wedding dias. Dressed sharply in a cute little black suit, he had a bright red rose pinned onto his left breast pocket, but the petals were criminally missing from its bud. His hair, fashionably glossed and combed to the side, made him looked like an under aged lady-killer. Admist the riot of people running up and about to prepare for the wedding, there he was, the most dashing looking page boy, on the wedding dias, in utter boredom, plucking the flowers that painted the place a dazzling hue of colours.

She on the other hand, as eloquent and fluid as a Russian ballerina, walked graciously around the wedding reception area, melting the hearts of the adults who were extra early for the occasion. Her baby fats seemed apparent underneath that cherubic smile, with a hint of chocolate stains on the sides of her lips. Her English basket was full to the brim with roses the colour of blood and angels. Clasping the handle tightly under her arms, there she was, the most amiable flower girl, fretting here and about, as she awaited her eldest sister to walk the aisle.

The chattering ceased as the music flowed from the organ. All heads turned to the back as the page boy held his flower girl's hands tightly, like a prince from a well loved fairy tale. As they took as small a step their little legs could muster, they warmed everyone's hearts with an element of innocent childlike charm.

The flower girl, suddenly queasy from the stares and tension, for a moment, allowed her concentration to lapse, tripping on the velvet carpet, face first. The crowd gasp, some in shock, but mostly in a light hearted mannerism. She shot up almost immediately, coming out of her daze. The page boy bent down to rub the rose petals off her knees, and planting a kiss on her cheek, that made the flower girl blush, redder than the flowers in the clasp of her tiny hands.

The wedding went on smoothly, and before long, the place went silent again as throngs of people rushed out to see off the bride and groom into their newlywed car. Page boy and Flower girl stood in the background, obscured to the joys and feverish delight of the adults at present. As the sun began to set, everyone went their separate ways, including the page boy and flower girl, who all this while, never spoke a word to each other.

Seasons came and went. The city landscapes changed ever so often, giving way to the newer taller buildings. Gardens became smaller and roads became wider and and it didn't take long before the old monuments became long forgotten, buried in the shadows of the modern city facade.

For Alice and Akiel, their homecoming to this small island brought back many fond memories. Though they didn't know each other previously, it was the fact that they both came from the same island, that brought their dainty hearts close to each other whilst studying abroad.

And after years of courting and romantic arguments, finally, it was time to tie the knot. Alice, dreaming of this day ever since she was 12, was living it now, only better. Blessed with a good career and a successful partner, Alice's smiled reeked a dollar short of a million.

Like all weddings, smiles and well wishes came from all angles as they drank and sang and participated in friendly bickering, adding to the colourful and joyous atmosphere. Playing onto the large projector on stage, was a short video, which showed many pictures and clips of how Akiel and Alice met while they were students, the dates they had, the places they've been, and the friends that were there to see a love so perfect form from nothingness.

But alas, not many people knew the truth, not even the wedding couple. It wasn't always true, the mesages these pictures and videos try to convey. This wasn't the true story of how Akiel and Alice met.

For a long time ago, when the city was still charming with its old world flavour, in that very same hall, two beautiful souls met for the very first time. One was a dashing page boy, and the other, his beautiful flower girl.