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The Graves

His 45th birthday! A day which mocked him yet again, reminded him of the time that he had wasted, all those years that he had not utilized. He sat up on his bed, resting back at the headrest, staring at that face of her’s, which was still beautiful. Oh! The love of his life! He had done everything right in his life. A decent job, a decent lifestyle, a decent income and a decent family. He had fulfilled all of her needs and of his sons. They respected him and loved him and so did his parents. They were proud of him. He had fulfilled all the promises he had made to them, and all of those promises he had made to her; but what of those that he had made to himself! He sat there, his eyes drifting towards the darkness, thinking the same that his eyes could see, nothing! When else was he going to be that bestselling writer that he had always promised himself he would be. Where is that fame that he always thought he would achieve. Where are the fans. Where, the luxury! And when he thought about it, he realized he had actually achieved nothing in life. He had merely wasted his life. Those big plans, had never materialized. Those dreams, never came true.

He got up, breaking his reverie and snailed across the room into the washroom. The sound of the water from the tap filled his ears. He collected as much water as he could in his palms and splashed the water on his face trying to break out of the negativity that was drowning him. He stared right into his eyes in the mirror. It was suffocating. This monotonous breathing of his. He moved away from the eyes and stared at the wrinkles on his face. The futility of experiences that he had gathered, locked among these wrinkles. He stood there blank, without a frown or a tear or a smile, for he did not know what to do nor what to think of himself. He had wasted it all. All his years; in achieving everything! In being one of the rest. He wasn’t any different. He wasn’t special. Bound to be forgotten. He couldn’t face himself anymore and so he turned and walked into the darkness of the room again; the darkness which resembled more the inside of his mind. He got into the bed as slowly as he could and stared at her face once more. His treasure. She opened her eyes slowly and looked right into his eyes. 

‘Something wrong?’, she asked.

‘Nothing at all!’, he smiled with all the strength he had left in him and kissed her forehead.

She closed her eyes and buried her face in his chest, into that heavy heart of his. He held her close. The only fan, the only achievement of his life, his only treasure.

And then he went to sleep, with the love of his life and the graves of his dreams and desires.

 
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Posted by on March 14, 2017 in short story, Uncategorized

 

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Madness

He had been standing there for quite a while now, unable to understand anything; unable to see anything, but white. Yes, when you think about it, you realise that black cannot be the only colour you can relate with blindness! When you are standing there surrounded by nothing else but one single colour, you tend to lose the sense of distance between you and the last point till which you can see. At times, they overpower you; so much so that the boundaries seem to close in on you and you have nowhere else to go. It plays with your mind and your eyes, the colour; it drives you crazy. And all you want to do is to get out of it.

But this is new to him. It wasn’t like this. There used to be demons around. It wasn’t so lonely. The demons used to talk to each other and laugh at his face; stare at him, all at once. The things around him glowed, of different colours; and at times, it was very difficult to differentiate between things. He did not understand the world around him. It was so strange. There were times when the fireball above would disappear and things would stop radiating the light which hurt his eyes. But then the strange beings of the┬ánight would cry at nights and scare him enough to take his sleep away. Sleep, yes; it had been very long since he slept.

And then these demons, they caught him; brought him here, to this place which had no limits; and left him there, alone. There was nothing there; no demons, no angels, no one, nothing else either; not even walls. He ran. In one direction. But everything was the same. It felt as if he wasn’t even moving. But it did get him tired after a while. It’s harder to reach a place when you can’t see your goal; or anything else for that matter; you tend to give up sooner. And so he stopped. And looked around, again; failed to understand anything at all and sat down. He cried, for as long as he could and then closed his eyes. He was tired, so tired. But he felt something; someone standing near him. He opened his eyes and looked around. No one, nothing. The white seemed to hurt his eyes now. He screamed; and screamed, and screamed but heard nothing back, not even the echo of his voice. So he banged his head on the floor, harder and harder. All he wanted was to see was those demons now; the radiation of the colours from things, if only there were any. He banged his head harder on the floor, to see the little bit of red. But all it did was hurt and not make him bleed. He tried to scratch his face with his nails but it did not help either. So he placed his tongue between his teeth and banged his chin on the floor and shrieked with pain and then opened his eyes to see his blood on the floor. Red! Finally, a colour other than white. Something that made him smile. And while he smiled, he saw that red spread around him and cover every single inch of the white that was there. He turned around to take a look in every direction.

There was nothing around him. He just stood there, unable to understand anything; unable to see anything, but red!

 
2 Comments

Posted by on August 7, 2016 in short story, Uncategorized

 

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