Blue and Green Horses (Rev) (Pls Crit)

I do most of my writing at a coffee house known as Casablanca. Its dark wood paneling gives the place a warm stimulating atmosphere. The many coffee drinkers that come and go immediately feel at ease. Conversations begin easily and the coffee, seems to be twice as tasty there as anywhere else in town.
It is said around here that no one ever leaves the Casablanca with a negative thought in his mind and perhaps this story will lend some support to that rumour.

At the far end of the large room, is a coffee bar where many regulars sit and enthusiastically discuss matters of the day while often throwing in dollops of gossip, here and there.
There have been times when I've sat here alone and studied the many jars of coffee standing on shelves on the back wall. They are filled with coffee beans from all corners and looking at them, was to me like taking a trip around the world along with the sea traders of old.

My own favourite is Arabica. I firmly believe that the fragrant product of this bean boosts my creativity by several power leaps. As a writer, I'm convinced that my total absence of writer's block is entirely due to that stimulating brew from some mysterious Eastern country. 

An architectural idiosyncrasy left a small nook near the front door. It's where I sit, most of the time. It's become known, to one and all that come here, that the corner table is mine. It's like the table in The Cheshire Cheese, in London, that Dickens took ownership of and during one evening, carved his name into its top.
From my vantage point, I'm able to see everyone that enters without them necessarily seeing me. I like it that way. After all, as a writer, I'm also an observer.

It had promised to be a typical day. Deep in thought, I was thinking about a difficult scene in my latest book, when she walked in. She was a young girl on her way to the counter. I really only saw her from the back but it was enough for me to put down my pen and push my papers aside.
She walked over to the counter at the back and sat down looking somewhat disconsolate.

At first, I hesitated but then felt compelled to walk over and sit down, about three stools away from her. As I stole a glance at her, I noticed her rather introverted attitude and her drooping shoulders.
I had no idea why I had begun to feel interested in her but my involvement in her soon took a spectacular turn. It happened when she seemed to explode. I really mean that. She suddenly burst into a constellation of a thousand bright sparkles. I was awestruck as I saw her turn into a myriad of tiny multi-coloured pixels.

I had never seen a person's aura before but I knew, instinctively, that I was then seeing one. I can tell you now that it's not just a haze of colours like halos or something like that enveloping the person. No, it's like a breathtaking display of miniscule stars. What's more, these lights send out flickers of intense knowledge. Within a micro-second, you're able to know everything about that person. All the feelings kept hidden from others, in the depths of that person's soul, become known to you, in an instant.

First of all I was stunned but then I felt this compulsion to move nearer to her but, for the sake of her privacy, I left an empty stool between us.
While I sat there quietly and wondering about just what I had just experienced, Pedro the owner, came and brought some fresh coffee. I stared fixedly at the cup for a while.
When I took another surreptitious look at her, I saw that she was also staring at her own cup. Quite compulsively, I slid my hand across the counter halfway towards hers, gave her a tentative smile and began to speak. 

"Hi. I have to talk to you, you know."
She kept on looking at her cup with an apparently increased intent. Then after taking a sip, she spoke very softly.
"Must you? Why don't you go and chat up someone else?"
"Look, I simply have to tell you something. I can't seem to help it."
Her staring at her cup never wavered even as she spoke again.
"Don't you realise that what you're saying is a really corny come-on line. Can't you see that this is a coffee house and not a singles bar?" 

I really don't know from where my next words came from. I only heard myself say them.
"I think that it's time for a twice divorced woman, with a child, to discuss her problems with some one."
She turned towards me with a jerk. I saw the fire in her eyes but I also managed to see the anguish behind her glare.
"What the hell are you talking about. How dare you? Are you some sort of psycho stalker?"
I ignored her outburst.
"There's more, I'm afraid. You were also abused by both men, weren't you?"

Now her eyes were really blazing.
"Look why don't you just pay up and go away. Otherwise, I'll have to go. If you want to dwell on my past, why don't you rather go and see some horror movie?"

Because I was seeing some a greater truth. I continued to speak. Unfortunately, I can't now recall what I actually said then. The words just seemed to flow from me. I began to feel that I had somehow become an agent. A messenger serving some unknown power.
Incredibly, as I spoke, she had began to listen to me with ever increasing awe. Her eyes livened up and, after a short while, she swung round to fully face me. Quite out of the blue, she burst out laughing. I t was as if she had been released from some internal tension. As she did so, I somehow knew that I was the first person to hear her laugh, in months. 

The spell was broken by Pedro when he came to fill our cups. For that while, the ethereal spell evaporated. In that short while I heard myself give an opinion and make a prophesy.
She listened to my words with the eagerness of a child.
"There's a young man out there" I said, "and he's searching for you. However he can't find you because you are lost in a mist."
"A mist? What mist? What are you talking about?"
"All victims are covered in a mist. That's why people don't reach out to them. They make themselves invisible."
"So how can I get rid of this mist? Can you tell me that?"
"Oh, it's really quite easy. First, you must decide not to be a victim. Get into touch with your inner emotions. Look again at your earlier aims, the desires that you once had and rember those inner joys that you once danced to."
I remember her leaving eventually. I don't know what she had gained from our conversation but as she walked out, there was now a jauntiness in her step. 

It was about a month later that I saw her again. I looked up from my work and there she was standing in front of me. She looked radiant in blue slacks, a white top, a green waistcoat and a golden scarf. However, it was her eyes that told the story. They were sparkling.
I sat back and smiled.
"Wow! Is that you? It's incredible. You look like a ball of fire. Like the happiest woman in the world."
She smiled and looked down at me with some affection. She held up one hand as if she wanted  to prevent me from speaking, for a moment
"Tell me first what your name is. I want to remember it."
"Oh, it's Loran...and yours?"
"Loran. Wow. What a beautiful name. Mine's Ansur, by the way. Here, I have something for you."
She handed me a wrapped up package.
"Here. Here's a present for you. Please open it up. I want to see your eyes when you see it."

I took the rectangular package from her and slowly unwrapped it. Soon I was holding a very striking oil painting in my hands.
There were horses, in a pasture, done in vibrant colours. However, of this I'm sure, nowhere in the world would you ever see such horses.



















They were blue, green and orange. They were prancing, cavorting with their manes were flowing like banners of celebration. As they danced, their bodies took on wild curvatures that no horse's skeleton would be able to cope with, in real life. I knew that it had been painted by an artist who was fully in touch with her inner spirit.  
I looked up from the painting, then to her and back again. I had stopped smiling and was now laughing out loud, as if the painting was spreading a magic potion.  

"Thank you, Ansur. This is so beautiful. It's an incredible treasure. Where did you ever see such horses?"
"Oh, Loran. Wasn't it you that told me to get into touch with my inner emotions? Hmmmm?. Well I did and that painting will always tell you how I felt deep down inside of me, when I made that discovery."
"That's so wonderful, Ansur. As I look at this, I can absolutely feel the joy that you have found. This is a great moment. Come. Let's have some coffee."

"Some other time, dear Loran. Someone's waiting for me. You see, my mist has gone away. I'm free, at last. I'm nobody's victim anymore."