the threads in her head

Today marks the day I've finished the Harry Potter series. The last two days was another mind-blowing journey - the plentiful twists and turns captivating. Though some had said that the plot had gone totally off-tangent, it was still as captivating, still the world of Hogwarts. Eyes took in the words, almost greedily, but not. Images flew through one's mind. The last two sentences was a bit of a dampener, so painful in their redundancy, but at least the epilogue did act as a close, for this was a tale that had sub-plots of love weaved into it, and it was only befitting that there would be a report of the result.

And so there I was, ushered out kindly out of this magical world. The epilogue had done a wonderful job of quelling the yearning for the next recount of their adventure - the kind of feeling I always have after reading the Famous Five or Secret Seven series, those books that actually ends on a comma and not the fullstop.

Still, I had been ushered out of the Hogwarts world.

I would not call myself an avid follower of the series, but that book, like the Famous Five and Secret Seven of lower primary school days, had managed to pull me into their world. And it was a rather good series, off-tangent or not.

But now I've been ushered out of that world. Why that should make me feel a little pang, I know not, though I'm glad there was an epilogue, for I'm sure it reduced the intensity of the echoing pang.

After finishing it I had taken a bath, and a certain phrase flitted into mind: "Life after Harry". Ah yes. What other books would be able to capture my mind and bring it into their world again? What fantasy could I drown myself in? This was once my tool of escapism. It could still be. Those beautiful enchanting words, spinning their many worlds and universes, their own perception of time and space. Some magical. Some dreamy. Some raw. Some heavy. Some thudding.

Then, "no". The word was like a magical broom that somehow cleared all the hazy cobwebs, the after effects of having allowed oneself to drop into another world. This couldn't go on. I had my own world. My own tale. My own friends, the grand characters of my little story.

Thoughts of all the characters who had an impact on me, who had tugged at my heartstrings flew through my mind. Too many, too many, but not too many to list. But still it is late, and my eyes are hurting from the strain of even blogging this, so I would have to try to keep the thoughts sealed, and pick this up another day. Aye, another day, even though the feeling may be lost a little, or lost entirely.