Crushed

They are mostly hidden away between pages of books and sheets of white paper stashed in shelves, maybe never opened again, forgotten for a while. The green from the leaves begin to turn yellow, the petals from crimson roses turn a mulberry red. The pearl white petals turn a powdery peach as they lay still between pages.

They are hidden away as the mahogany clock ticks steadily, a tint of brown muddying the colours, with time drifting by. A film of fine dust covers the hardbound books and the brass knob on the shutters of the shelf is untouched. They start to fade away tucked in that little space.

They are hidden away and as years have passed, it appears as if those books and sheets of paper no longer exist- untouched and not looked for, they’ve turned invisible to the hands that placed them ever so delicately.

Time is an illusion, they say, but that ticking mahogany clock says otherwise. Each moment passing is a moment further away from those hidden treasures. And then one day, just like any other day, the thick webs on the murky glass shutters are wiped off and a turn of the brass knob with a creaking sound is heard. The shutters open, not without difficulty and a familiar hand reaches inside the dark space. Clearing off more dust, the spines of some hardbound books meet the hand. With trembling hands, the books are taken out and sheets of yellowing paper are found too- folded, almost tearing at the creases, brittle with age.

 A cup of freshly ground coffee is brewed and under the arched window each book is opened with bated breath. A faint mixture of lavender and rose wafts from between the pages in the form of crushed memories. The colours are still subtly visible- through the muddy pigment that had flooded the veins of the leaves, petals, and the fragile stems. Pressed between the old pages, almost a part of the books and yellowing sheets of paper now, the mostly hidden away treasures are stirred again.

Translucent intricacies that are crushed but still intact- shape into memories for a moment, before they are tucked away again.

The entire month of April, I am blogging from A2Z powered by #BlogchatterA2Z

29 Comments Add yours

  1. Ruchi says:

    The old leaves and flowers between the pages of books …beautiful

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Leha says:

      Thanks Ruchi

      Like

  2. purbajune says:

    Beautiful prose. Loved the vivid imagery.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Poonam says:

    I loved your words for the description of those forgotten memories.

    I remember keeping leaves in the books, just to see those webs. But long gone they are now.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Leha says:

      Wow, that’s amazing. They stay pretty for years.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Mayuri6 says:

    Your words have stirred some memories, Leha. Such beautiful writing.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Leha says:

      I wish you always lovely memories 🙂 Thanks Mayuri.

      Like

  5. Amina says:

    your writing style is very good…. nice post…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Leha says:

      Thanks so much.

      Like

  6. Harshita says:

    This post made me sigh and blink back tears, so poignant

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Leha says:

      Omg, this has my heart! Thank you.

      Like

  7. I can so relate Leha, from my childhood I too have this habit of putting a leaf or a flower on my favorite page in a book dear, your post made me nostalgic love

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Leha says:

      Wow, so nice Roma. You certainly would relate to how lovely they turn out to be.

      Like

  8. Varsh says:

    Trembling hands meeting the books, reminded me of my college days when I browsed through cooks in the library!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Leha says:

      Aw, Varsha, I am happy you remembered a wonderful memory.

      Like

  9. Shalini says:

    I used to always press roses in between the pages of a book. This brought back those memories 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Leha says:

      Aw, Shalini. I like how roses get pressed and become a richer red colour.

      Like

  10. Suchita says:

    This sounded like the perfect opening to a horror book or movie. Memories that haunt and the ghosts we leave behind, seemingly vanquished but ever near to prick you again. Gorgeous.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Leha says:

      Wow, now I look at it from a new perspective. So real Suchita, the ghosts are actually memories that haunt! Love that.

      Liked by 1 person

  11. Matheikal says:

    Time is an illusion for those who have eternity for contemplation. For the ordinary mortals, the clock (mahogany or digital) is the reality.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Leha says:

      That’s a fascinating observation.

      Like

  12. Aesha says:

    Oh Leha! You weave such beautiful stories. Beautiful!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Leha says:

      Thank you so much Aesha:)

      Liked by 1 person

  13. Leaves in books is a memory that made me smile. A honest smile that I did it too. Love it

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Leha says:

      Yay, you can relate 🙂

      Like

  14. Raunica says:

    so beautifully written, I remember putting flowers to see how they’d flatten and hold up against time

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Leha says:

      Thank you. Watching that transition is indeed a wonderful experience.

      Like

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