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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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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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