P.S.: The characters are borrowed from ‘The Fountainhead’. The story is not.
Howard Roark stood naked on the cliff and laughed. He laughed because laughing made sense. Fear of death is explicitly mind boggling but the fear of dying young is subtly disturbing. He stood naked. He stood naked because he was stripped of pain. There he was, the way he had come into this world. The way it was always mean to be…..
Dominique stood far away dressed inappropriately. She felt safe. She felt safe for she knew nothing. Nothing of what had happened and what was in store. She did not know Howard. She was here to kill him because she hated the purity of nudity. She did not know that it was autumn. She did not know that the trees had shed leaves to complete the cycle. She did not know Howard had stripped to complete the cycle of life. She did not know clothes were metaphors…..
**
Far beyond the horizon, a car was approaching the cliff Roark was standing naked upon. There was sand in the air because the car was speeding through. There was a sense of purpose in the environment. Everything seemed in place for the climax Toohey had planned. He sat in the car. The stick lying safely in his lap. He cursed the dust on the road and brought his arm on his forehead. He wiped the beads of perspiration which had condensed on his forehead. The sun was shining brightly from behind the cliff. He strained hard to look into the direction to see what shone so bright…..
Howard Roark stood naked on the cliff and laughed. It was perfect.
**
Two days ago, Howard Roark had packed his bag in hurried frenzy. Dominique lay naked on his bed. She looked at him. Well built, muscular and strong arms. His eyes gave him away though, she thought. Her mind raced to the last night and she smiled in sublime admiration of his love making. They had not exchanged even a single word since they had met and here she was in his room, stripped off her clothes….stripped off her metaphor….naked, free of inhibitions…
Howard packed and left without saying a word. She got up and went to the shower not wanting to wipe the smell off her body. It reeked of happiness. It reeked of freedom. It reeked of Howard…
**
Peter Keating did not know what to do. He read and re read the article. He wiped his glasses in fearful agony and cursed in wild animosity. He drank from the glass and kept it back on the table. He paced up and down the room without an ambition. He tried calling a number several times only to be responded with a recorded voice of a genteel lady who promised she would get back to him. ‘It will be too late then…’ he shouted in the empty room. The walls heard. They stood silently. Peter went to the window and looked out at the building he had designed. The sun was setting behind it. It glistened peacefully in the dusky sun. The arching top had been demolished by a madman last night. That man stood naked on a cliff and laughed…
Peter walked back to his table. He read the concluding lines of the article he had gorged every word from. ‘Peter Keating is an excellent architect. His talent needs recognition…..’ . He walked to the open window from where he had been gazing at the creation the world thought was his. He looked down from the window. He stood precariously on the ledge.
‘When you are standing precariously on the edge, the chances of you jumping are a lot higher than you slipping and falling.’
He remembered Roark’s advice. He was a coward. He could not bear the height. He jumped into the room. Meanwhile, Howard Roark stood naked on the cliff and laughed. He was not afraid of height. Today he was not scared of anyone. Not even Dominique.
**
(To be continued.... hopefully)
Howard Roark stood naked on the cliff and laughed. He laughed because laughing made sense. Fear of death is explicitly mind boggling but the fear of dying young is subtly disturbing. He stood naked. He stood naked because he was stripped of pain. There he was, the way he had come into this world. The way it was always mean to be…..
Dominique stood far away dressed inappropriately. She felt safe. She felt safe for she knew nothing. Nothing of what had happened and what was in store. She did not know Howard. She was here to kill him because she hated the purity of nudity. She did not know that it was autumn. She did not know that the trees had shed leaves to complete the cycle. She did not know Howard had stripped to complete the cycle of life. She did not know clothes were metaphors…..
**
Far beyond the horizon, a car was approaching the cliff Roark was standing naked upon. There was sand in the air because the car was speeding through. There was a sense of purpose in the environment. Everything seemed in place for the climax Toohey had planned. He sat in the car. The stick lying safely in his lap. He cursed the dust on the road and brought his arm on his forehead. He wiped the beads of perspiration which had condensed on his forehead. The sun was shining brightly from behind the cliff. He strained hard to look into the direction to see what shone so bright…..
Howard Roark stood naked on the cliff and laughed. It was perfect.
**
Two days ago, Howard Roark had packed his bag in hurried frenzy. Dominique lay naked on his bed. She looked at him. Well built, muscular and strong arms. His eyes gave him away though, she thought. Her mind raced to the last night and she smiled in sublime admiration of his love making. They had not exchanged even a single word since they had met and here she was in his room, stripped off her clothes….stripped off her metaphor….naked, free of inhibitions…
Howard packed and left without saying a word. She got up and went to the shower not wanting to wipe the smell off her body. It reeked of happiness. It reeked of freedom. It reeked of Howard…
**
Peter Keating did not know what to do. He read and re read the article. He wiped his glasses in fearful agony and cursed in wild animosity. He drank from the glass and kept it back on the table. He paced up and down the room without an ambition. He tried calling a number several times only to be responded with a recorded voice of a genteel lady who promised she would get back to him. ‘It will be too late then…’ he shouted in the empty room. The walls heard. They stood silently. Peter went to the window and looked out at the building he had designed. The sun was setting behind it. It glistened peacefully in the dusky sun. The arching top had been demolished by a madman last night. That man stood naked on a cliff and laughed…
Peter walked back to his table. He read the concluding lines of the article he had gorged every word from. ‘Peter Keating is an excellent architect. His talent needs recognition…..’ . He walked to the open window from where he had been gazing at the creation the world thought was his. He looked down from the window. He stood precariously on the ledge.
‘When you are standing precariously on the edge, the chances of you jumping are a lot higher than you slipping and falling.’
He remembered Roark’s advice. He was a coward. He could not bear the height. He jumped into the room. Meanwhile, Howard Roark stood naked on the cliff and laughed. He was not afraid of height. Today he was not scared of anyone. Not even Dominique.
**
(To be continued.... hopefully)
