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The Wanderess

A laptop on the coffee table waited for her, along with the rest of her belongings. An old TV which was always there when she needed it, a bulky one seater sofa which resembled that she was all she had, a small wardrobe that held all of her moods and a laptop that she could never convince herself to switch off. It was a one bed room apartment in the outskirts of the city where the rent was cheap and which certainly cannot be called the most suitable place for a girl like her, young and beautiful. 

The doorknob turned and the door creaked open as she entered the apartment after a long day at work. That smile looked out of place on a tired face. She took off her coat and threw it at the wardrobe, probably expecting it to catch it. Her keys and her bag almost fell on the coffee table and she, on the sofa. She turned her face towards the laptop that had her list of mails on the screen and stared at the resignations she had sent over the years- all for one simple reason, because she was leaving the city; because she was moving.

She had changed occupations and workplaces more than a common man would have gone for vacations through out his lifetime. But it wasn’t about the occupation to her. It was about the life, a way of living, how you adjust to a given environment, in a given locality, in a given city, in a given state; in a given country. She had lived so many lives in that one lifetime of her’s; and this still wasn’t the end. She longed, for experiences, for novelty, for something that would be out of the ordinary, at least for her. She was like a tornado, blowing around, in a chaos, who didn’t want to come to rest. She wanted to get more from life than what it had to offer. She couldn’t think about staying, leading her life in a monotony, her whole life, in one place, with the same set of people, with the same routine, over and over and over for the rest of her monotonous life.

It was time again. She had stayed here for too long. Her last day at work, she had made it a point to say goodbyes to everyone she knew. Specially the ones who were closer to her; but she couldn’t stay back because of them: she loved herself a little more than she loved them.

She picked up her phone, took out the cover followed by the sim card and lay it gently on the coffee table. They’ll never get to see her again, she thought to herself. But she was used to it by now, all of it. The goodbyes, the pain of leaving, the memories of the people who cared about her; but she could never get enough of the excitement, of the anticipation, of the risks and the possibilities of the future. She touched the mousepad and reached for the inbox that showed a plus one. The first one was the appointment letter for her new job. She smiled, got up picked up her coat from the floor, her keys went inside the bag, and the bag on to her arm and she opened the door. A final glance she took, turning back at the apartment, which resembled the life she was leaving behind and closed the door after her. 

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Posted by on November 27, 2016 in short story, Uncategorized

 

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Diary of a Werewolf

  She wasn’t scared! Her eyes, unlike the rest that I have seen, weren’t scared at all. They were wide, not with fright but with something else; astonishment, surprise maybe. I wish I could tell her how weak I was, so contradictory to what I had appeared to her since the first day she saw me, so contradictory to what I appear to everyone.

Of all the victims of mine, of all the people who had faced the uncontrollable fury of the beast that resided within me, she was the one who was never scared; not once had I noticed fear in her. How could it be?! How can one not be scared when she is pinned against the wall, almost choking; her throat in my hands, hands with power to crush it right in my fist! Maybe it was her ignorance. Maybe because she was unaware of the beast within me, maybe because she did not know me, the real me; but then again, fear is aroused by ignorance.

I am so sure she could tell that it wasn’t me; that I wasn’t me when she looked into my eyes when I held her against the wall, and yet she called out my name to stop me when I was walking away from her. How can she not be afraid of a murderer, it was evident from her eyes that she knew, she knew it now; that I wasn’t one of them; that I was a beast and not a human and that that it was uncontrollable.

She shouldn’t have known. She shouldn’t have seen what she did. She should have just remained away from me. But now, NO! it’s not possible, not anymore. I long for the warmth of love now, maybe it’s the beastly desires of the human within me and I cannot resist it anymore. I have to tell her how much she means to me, how fond I have grown of her, how I long for her. But…

I don’t know what to do!……..

 
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Posted by on January 8, 2013 in short story, Uncategorized

 

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