The Anklet

Oh how she loved surprises and those untimely gifts he gave her. It would light her face up every single time. She couldn’t wait to unravel his love that she held in her hands. With a wide grin on her face, she unwrapped it and opened the tiny little red box that smiled at her bright face.

“Oh! It’s beautiful!” She couldn’t keep her tears away from her. She took it out of the box and held it up with two fingers while the anklet dangled in front of her like she was trying to memorize every detail of it and then she put it back into box, “I’m going to wear it on some special day.” She said with a smile.

“No no no! You’re going to have to wear it now, and never take it off!” He said with an urgency in his voice that stirred the curiosity in her. “Why?!” She exclaimed, rather than questioning him, as soon as he finished.

“Because…” He paused to look into the eyes which demanded his attention everytime they talked. “Tell me, please”, the child in her wouldn’t let go without an answer. His eyes moved away as his lips widened and the blood ran to fill his cheeks. She held his hand captive in hers’ and demanded his eyes again, “please?”

“Because…”, he stretched the word, “it tinkles.”

“And so?” She voiced her thought.

“So… It would remind me of you. I remember how, the other day, I felt restless when I moved my arm in search of you on the bed.” He tried to explain himself

“But I was at home, baby! Where else would I go!” She inquired again.

“I know I know! But it’s not about that. It’s just… you know… I always want you there, even when I know that you are. I realised that when I was in that state of half sleep and I couldn’t find you on the bed. I grew restless. So, you see, when the next time that happens, I’ll know the sound of the tinklet and have a more peaceful sleep.” He tried to explain.

“And here I was thinking you bought me a gift to make me happy!” she said with a fake huff and turned her face away! He took the anklet from her hand and put it where it actually belonged; and kissed her cheek as he walked away into the kitchen, “Would you like to have some coffee, baby?”

“Ofcourse I would! But I’m still angry!” She smiled under her breath.

---

It was one of those bad dreams that always haunted him. His eyes opened wide for a second and then closed again, realizing that he was dreaming again. His eyes were closed now, his heart throbbing in his chest and breathing, faster. He burried his face into the pillow and ran his arm beside him on the bed in search of her when he suddenly heard the tinkle of the anklet. It made him smile again. “Katie” he almost moaned from his sleep and stretched his hand to his bedside table to pick up the frame that stood there. What better way to start the day than to see your love the first thing in the morning.

And then her voice echoed in his head, “You will always have a peaceful sleep, baby!”

He closed his eyes as a cat jumped on to the bed beside him; with an anklet around her neck! She purred as she burried herself into his pillow. “I know, love! We both miss mommy!” He said, as he moved his fingers on her head and stared at the anklet with teary eyes!

 

Diary of a werewolf: The Deaths

I was flung in the air as I pushed his body away with my legs and freed my claws from his chest. His claws left holes on either sides of my neck and I could feel myself weak from the bleeding from different parts of my body. My final vision was of a figure vanishing into the darkness of the woods but it wasn’t him I was worried about; it was me. I had been badly injured and my body had been pushing it till that moment when my foe was out of my sight. My eyes couldn’t stay open any longer and my body exhaled a final breath as I descended from the height of that hill into the water below. As my body hit the surface of the water, my body came to an almost halt but the descent continued. As I entered the water, I started to feel my wounds getting more painful. The deeper I sunk, the more pressure was exerted on my wounds and the more painful it became. My whole body was covered with wounds and consumed by exhaustion. I soon lost consciousness, even before reaching the bottom and I knew this was going to be the end.

I don’t know after how long or why or even how, but I woke up, gasping for air, suffering from pain which was unbearable, even for the beast. It felt like the water was piercing through every single wound I had on my body. The pain was piercing through my will to live. I tried, but I could not move; my limbs wouldn’t support me; my heart wouldn’t give up. I gasped for air and tried to move my limbs again but failed; again and again and finally gave up. It was futile to try. So I just lay there, waiting, gasping uselessly for breath till I died, which seemed better than the pain that I had to bear, better than the helplessness I had to bear.

But it wasn’t my time I guess, or maybe the beast wouldn’t give up, I woke up again, gasping for breath and yet again failing to breathe. I was wrong; this was worse than the pain. It felt like I was being denied the satisfaction of dying, over and over again. The same thing, again and again. I don’t know how many times it happened, I lost count nor was I in a state where I could keep count. What I remember is that it was painful, very painful, every single time, being denied the most basic need of even a monster, air. I remember my body settling for water instead of air before drowning every time. The darkness surrounded me and all I could feel was pain and Death. The pain is unimaginable when you see no escape, no relief, no hope. The pain is unimaginable when death comes to you over and over again. 

I must have died, because there is no other explanation for my body to have surfaced without being void of life. I woke up, again; this time, in my human form but I could recall the horror I had undergone. Even for a person as strong willed and with high tolerance as me, it was horrifying. I could swear I felt even the body of the beast shiver with pain. I felt it reaching me, the pain of the darkness and the death and the hopelessness and fear it caused the beast. It shivered before every death, fearing that it’ll wake up again and would have to undergo the same horror again. Chills ran through my spine as the visions came to me in flashes and I wrapped my arms around myself as I dragged myself towards home, thinking to myself that there was no way a man could’ve survived that. It was the beast who did that; coming back from the dead, fighting death and coming back to life, over and over again. But then again, a man only has to face death once, it was because of the cursed beast that I couldn’t even die in peace. It’s a curse after all.

 

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.

 

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 night 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!

 

Diary of a werewolf: The Hunt

It was so powerful, that beast, when it overcame me. I remember the strength that I felt running through my veins, the gushing of the blood through my body; and with it, anger, fury; power and barbarity that knew no limits.

I did not have a choice. I had to let it go. I had to let it take over me. There’s only so much time for which you can subdue the monster inside of you. There’s only so much time for which you can bear the pain. You think it will become a part of you, the pain; that your body will ultimately accept it; that you will get used to it and it will not hurt anymore. You expect it to at the least become bearable; a pain that you can live with. But the monster does not let that happen. It does not give up trying to take over your body, your mind, your entity. It just does not let you be your own self. You cannot imagine the pain of experiencing the growling of the beast within you, a sound that is heard over the loudest of noises, the shrillest of your own screams when you shout your lungs out, screaming, begging it to stop. But it never gives up. How can it?!

You live your entire life learning to subdue your emotions, your desires, your needs; your wants. This monster, knows no limits. The amount of power that it takes to keep it from coming out and taking over me; the amount of power that it takes me to bear the pain and not give up; is inexplicable. They say that if you try, nothing is impossible. I don’t think they have ever gone through this pain; and so I failed; I let go!

I remember every single thought that came in it’s mind. I know every part of the only emotion that it felt; hunger. I don’t think it is possible to explain the hunger of this barbaric beast. It does not understand fear or good or bad. It longs for the flesh and that is what it craves for, every single moment. The visions of it’s hunt; they do not leave me alone. The fear in the eyes of that woman when she saw it flash out of the darkness and consume her in a moment. Those eyes will never stop haunting me. How soothing was the smell and taste of her blood and how beautiful the very emotion of that moment when the beast had done it’s deed. The feeling seemed to compensate for all the pain that I had bore in subduing it and the suffering that I went through during the transformation. How every single part of my body arched and how every single bone in my body made me scream as they changed their shape within me. How I screamed louder than the beast then. How powerful I felt; how unconquerable; how beastly.

One can surely imagine the guilt of having taken a life and the misery of living with it for the rest of his life.
One cannot imagine the guilt of having taken a life and enjoyed it; felt good about it and the misery of living with it for the rest of his life; especially when he knows, it wasn’t the last. It was just the beginning.

 

Dark Love

She merely saw the bright side of it in the darkness that she sat. Her smile, her face, brighter than those headlights that were on the outside of the cab that she sat in. Those posts that ran backwards so fast only seemed to glow brighter now, probably to compete with the glow on her face. The rest was just darkness; darkness that seemed to freak her out before, made her lonely; but not anymore. She felt safe now, she felt the companionship of someone. She felt that there was someone who would save her from everyone else, everything else that would try to harm her. Someone who will always be there. Those were the promises that were made by those few texts. She will never be able to forget them. She will never be able to explain them to anyone either. How stupid and silly; yet so deep and beautiful. She rested her head back and closed her eyes and went back in time.

*beep beep*

1 unread text message.
The light from the cell phone lit her face up like the sky of 4th November. It was him.

“It was very nice meeting you!” She read out loud to her friend.

The girls smiled at each other and quarreled at what the perfect answer would be. But before they could finish, the phone lit up again. Yet another message.

“Gotta tell you something!”

“Hmmm…” she wrote.

“Roses are red.”

“Oh I didn’t know that! :P” she wrote and overflowed with giggles.

“Facebook is blue.”

“Tell me something I don’t know”

“I love you”

Her eyes widened at the screen. Her friend moved her eyes to her friend’s face. She herself, was stunned. Her face showed a mix of all the feelings that one could possibly imagine; all of them, all at once, on that young little face of hers. She blushed and half smiled and fear filled up in her eyes. She could hardly breathe. How exciting, how terrifying; the million possibilities filled her up. Her face lit up once again with the smile and then the fear took over; then came the comfort of some sort that she had never felt before. It is as if we are born with the depth of love; only in need of someone to show it to us, to make us feel how deep we are. How deep our feelings can go!

Oh the comfort that she found even his absence; the feeling of safety in this crowded little world even when he wasn’t holding her in his arms. It was inexplicable. She was too young, too inexperienced, too short of words to even try to speak of it; so she settled for tears. Words were kept safe in her for she could not let those feelings out; feelings that were a result of him and he, was too precious now.

But she only saw the bright side of it. The beautiful expectations, those dreams that take over someone’s mind along with the heart and take you to great heights are not always fulfilled; but she did not know that. How could she know, she was only a kid; a kid of 16. How could she possibly know the darkness of love. How could she know how black it becomes when the intensity of red increases. She was unaware of the lengths of the nights that one cries through. Unaware of the sufferings you bear when your love doesn’t understand you; when he walks out on you, when he gets over you. How could she possibly know the wicked schemes of the cupid or about the evil that resides within the beauty of love. She was unaware of the darkness of love.

She opened her eyes and stared at those three words. They made her smile. There was only so much she could do now. She replied back.
“I love you too!”

 

The Fight

He strolled down the lonely road filled with emptiness and darkness except for the occasional suns on the sidewalk by the street lights above. Life hadn’t turned out exactly the way he had imagined it would. The love for numbers had slowly faded away, they drove him crazy in his office now; the woman who waited for him back home did not seem very attractive anymore; the children merely seemed a duty; stood for the love that they had once shared. How monotonous was life, how unattractive; empty. He found himself in need of something different; something that would relieve him of this monotony, and offer him something interesting for a change.

When he got clear of his thoughts, he found himself in a bar. The wooden colored counter on the right stretched to the very end. The broken jukebox occupied some space and the dart board stood so gallantly occupying the wall. On the other side of the bar were lain a few tables which provided for groups that were crude, both in nature and in looks. He made his way to one of the stools at the counter and felt insecure turning around and finding himself being pointed out by a group and being called a drunkard and laughed at.

“That’d be me mate.” He turned his face to see a middle aged man with a glass in his hand and a bottle in his front. He looked at him and said again, “Perhaps they are referring to me.”

“And you say nothing?” he asked in a tone which proved him to be not one of the calm ones in the world.

He smiled and turned to the bartender instead of replying to his question, “A pint for my friend here.”

He did not look like a man of a bad reputation. He was dressed decently enough to sit among the finest of the city and his voice had a tone of command that would overpower anyone; and yet he sat there drinking, all by himself.

“I would be a liar if I say they’re wrong you know.”, he said finally breaking the silence between them.

“So you drink a lot?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He looked at his face with a surprise in his eyes. No one had ever asked him that before. They had called him a drunkard, advised him not to drink, even maybe avoided him at times. But no one had ever asked him this before. His red eyes came back to their own shape and he turned his face back to his glass.

“Why did you start?”, he asked again, “When did you start?”

“Almost a year. I lost my wife and my two sons to a car accident…”

“And so you drink in their grief?”

“I drink mate,” he replied with his hand on his shoulder, “because that is my thrill.”

“Your thrill?”, he asked not completely understanding his point, half thinking to himself to be the whiskey talking and not the man himself.

“You see mate. Everyone of us has a thrill, a passion that they so profoundly love that it drives them crazy. You will do anything for it. You see the man seated in a brown jacket behind you”, he said pointing at someone, “he is an editor. His thrill, on the other hand, is to observe people. To deduce the lives of strangers. The diary on his table that you see, is his life long work, filled with assumptions of every stranger he has ever met.”, he paused and then asked, “Don’t you have a thrill too mate?”

He thought a little and then replied, “I don’t think I do.”

He smiled at him said, “Everyone does mate. Some of us just don’t know what is yet. Have you never loved something that you would do anything for it? Have you never loved someone that profoundly?”

“I have. But…”, he stopped realizing that he was only talking to a stranger and then started again, “So that’s your thrill you say? Losing your senses and being called the drunkard by others?” he asked rather sarcastically and enjoyed it, covering his smile by taking a sip of the whiskey in his hand.

“You get me wrong mate. It is not the unconsciousness that I long for. It is certainly not the reason why I drink.”

“You drink in grief, don’t you? Of your wife? Of your son?”

“I have their memories, yes. Pictures of the beautiful times in my mind that do not give me even the momentary reliefs. But you get used to it over the time. You see mate, it is not a healer; the time. It is rather a harsh reality that you have to face and time gives you that exposure. It makes you face your fears, your wounds, things that had hurt you so much once that you thought you would never be able to go through them again. It gets you used to that pain, to that harsh reality.”

“So you do not miss them now?”

“I do. It makes you numb, the time that you spend with all that pain within you. It makes you indifferent to the world around you; make it seem like nothing else matters to you. It kills you. It makes you accept the pain. But I couldn’t allow myself to betray the ones I loved the most. What kind of a father would I be if I let myself out of the pain of their absence?! What kind of a husband would I be mate?!” He stared him right in the eyes which bore the pain of parting from the ones he loved so dearly. “You see mate, this keeps me alive. The thrill of being in the darkness of their memories. The liquor tries to take away the consciousness and with it, the memories. I, on the other hand, strive. I strive so hard and cling  to them; to my sons, to my wife, to my consciousness, and to the pain, as a token of my love to them. I fight the intoxication mate. I do not give in. The world spins with all its might and people talk things that I do not understand anymore and my eyes betray me as well. The body fails to struggle with my spirit. It becomes heavy, and shaky. The spirit never fails me though; my heart, never fails them; my beloveds. Love, you see, isn’t about showing it off. It’s about the battle that you fight for them, for the people you love. It’s about the fight.”

And he rose up from his stool and turned around with a glass in his hand that he held higher than his head. “Mates” he shouted, “To the fight!”

“To the fight Mr. Mayor”, came a reply from the people in a loud support. He turned around after placing a bill in the counter, smiled at him and said “It was nice talking to you mate.” And then he turned and started to the door while he sat there going through the words of the man in his mind when he was disturbed by a beautiful face. “Are you alone here?”

He thought to himself of the wonderful opportunity that brought a smile to his face. His eyes fell on the ring on his own finger and then came to his mind the thought of his love that waited for him back home. He stared at his wedding ring.

“Hey mate.” came a voice to which he turned to realize it was the man that sat beside him earlier, “It’s always about the fight.” he winked and turned away.

 

Third

The suitcase in the back seat spoke for itself. The emptiness in the air was filled with the echoes of the memories of their time together. She stared outside through the transparency, at the beautiful lake that reflected the sun and appeared like diamonds. The two swans that floated among the diamonds reminded her of herself and him. The thought brought a smile on her face that overcame the excitement and fear of what she had started to do. He, on the other hand, was too mesmerised by the beauty that sat beside him to appreciate the beauty of nature like she did.

Her face has always haunted him, even in his dreams. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as the sun came in through the glass and made one part of her face golden and turned brown the strands of hair which were darker than the darkest of the nights. Even today, he was not sure of the day when he had started loving her.

His smile remained constant on his face, his eyes, constant on her. She always reminded him of the olden days, the day she had met him, the day she had talked to him for the very first time; the day they turned into good friends. Her face was the reminder of all the things she meant to him, his everything.

The car cruised the two away from the place, the cruel world, that they believed, will never understand love. She wanted to be happy and he had never the courage, or authority over himself to say no to her. They were madly in love. Ready to take any risk, do anything, take any step necessary for it. The lake had passed and she had returned to him. They smiled at each other and turned their eyes towards the road ahead, expecting something.

He went back to the thoughts that always occupied him, the thoughts that had always made him so mysterious; and her, so curious; and she had always asked him, but he never talked about it. They were running away, he was madly in love with her; she was in love too. She was with him, sitting right beside him, so close; it could have been perfect. It could have been so perfect.

He stopped the car. A man stood there, leaning back at a black sedan, restless, looking for something, waiting for something; someone. She got out of the car and he saw a bright smile light her face and at that moment, she glowed, like star does in a moonless dark sky. She hugged him.

It could have been so perfect; if only she loved him back the same.

How cruel it was of her, even with that child like innocent face and intention. How unknowingly cruel it was of her to ask him to help her with this. But she had never known his love for her, he had never expressed. He wasn’t very good at saying the right things at the right moments. He had always been afraid of losing that small place that he occupied in her heart as her best friend. She would miss him, for sure; but not like he would.

He got out and took out her suitcase from the back and stood with it in front of them with a smile on his face that contained the storm in his heart, that kept him from falling apart. But he was happy for her. The only reason why he was there, because she was happy.

She walked towards him for the final goodbye with tears in her eyes. He stood there waiting to hold her in his arms, regretting his every passing breath that brought nearer the time when she would finally leave. She came into his arms and he felt complete, for that one moment; and wished, that the moment may last for eternity, wished that he didn’t have to let her go.

“Don’t go”, he whispered his heart into her ears.
Her eyes widened. She seemed to understand the storm within him. In that one moment and two words, she understood him like she had never known him before. Such a stranger she had been, so naive about his feelings. Those silly talks, that never had a meaning before, the absence of his attention, his thoughtful mind, his beating heart, she understood every moment, every word that he had ever said to her. She felt something grow within her, a feeling that she didn’t completely understand. Her eyes burst into tears when she realized this. How different was his love for her. She regretted something, but what? The friendship? Their relationship? Her running away? She could not figure out.

She couldn’t gather the courage to let her arms unwind and face him. Everything between them had changed in this one moment. This one moment had challenged everything that they had had for 13 years now. She understood what he felt for her. She realized, what she felt for him. The feeling that had not come to her before this particular moment was now overwhelming her, drowning her; forcing her to do something that she now wanted to do, but could not. Maybe it was too late.

She gathered her courage, drew her back to herself and looked at his teary eyes. He repeated his words and then stopped. He realized what he had done. How difficult he had made this for her; how contradictory to the promises he made to himself. He closed his eyes and bent his head down. He knew her tears spoke of her love for him now. He knew she knew now, that he loves her. He knew she knew now, that she loves him.

The darkness seemed so comforting. The fear of her not being there when he opened his eyes occupied him. But the darkness resembled the uncertainty. He wasn’t rejected right now, he knew she was going away but there was this uncertainty of her staying back for him, holding his hand and giving him a kiss and going far far away with him; and that uncertainty gave him the happiness for which he could close his eyes to the world and stand there, forever. How comforting the darkness indeed was. Only the sound of the racing heartbeat throbbed in his head and gave him consolation, told him that he shall find her smiling at him with tears in her eyes as he opened his. He built up the courage and followed it.

How cruel is the heart too; how cruel, these fits of the romantic mind and heart, how cruel, hope.

He leaned back at his car and stared at the empty road ahead of him. The road that resembled the rest of his life. The road with traces of leaves that were dead now; the leaves that resembled his hopes.

 

Futility

The scarcity of the leaves on the branches of the trees, the setting of the sun, the falling of the beauty of nature in the form of the yellow leaves. How beautifully it resembles everything else that the mother nature has created, with just one single thing common to all of them, the end. The message is so subtly displayed every year, every day or maybe even in every passing moment, if we only look closer. Nothing lasts forever. Everything comes to an end. The day ends with a sunset, the year ends with the people celebrating it, even these small leaves that had once been so lively green change their colour to a dull orange and fall off, leaving behind them, the emptiness of their presence to be filled up by someone else.

“How futile?!”, he said, “Isn’t it love?”, without turning around.

Her face filled up at the sound of love. She loved him calling her that.
He turned a bit to take a look at her glamorous smile that lit her face like the bright sun in the clear sky.

“The beauty?” she asked.

“The life.”

“But that’s not what you’re upset about, are you?”

She always got to him better than anyone else. Specially to his other side. That side made her like him even more. She always preferred mysterious guys over the ones which had a shallow self. She thought she could relate to them. She wasn’t in love with him, but she was surely in love with his mysterious side. She had come across to him so much like the other girls he had met before. She loved tattoos, liked mysteries, did not like reading, talked about boys, liked going out and loved to look beautiful. The only two things that had come across as unusual to him about her were her smile, that was livelier than life itself, and the tattoos on her leg. One of which was a fish and the other was a word in some other language, which he had not asked the meaning of.

“Will I be forgotten?” he asked.

“You are upset because you think you will not be remembered?” she asked back.

“Yes.”

“Well that sounds a little selfish.”

“You can’t blame someone for thinking about himself.”

She didn’t answer. He stared at the life of the day ending with the setting of the sun. The sight made him restless. The thought grew deeper into him and got the better of him. He could not but think about how hard he had worked to be loved by the people, to be known by the world, to become a name; how he had given his life to it and how it will be taken away all at once by death.

“You got over him too, didn’t you? You’ve forgotten about him too, the person whom you once loved more than your own life.”

The mild smile from her face was taken away by the memories of her past.

“No”, she said without looking at his face. Her face reflected of the depth she had within her. He had never seen this side of her before. “I still do. I had fallen in love with him once and I might not be able to forget him ever. The memories, they stay with you, locked up in one corner of your heart, which stays with you, forever. I have this love for him which I will always bear, even when I die. I shall be buried with this love within my chest.”

The sun had finally set, leaving the dusk behind.

“You see, even the sun leaves his light behind, reminding us of its presence, marking its existence.” she came back to him, “and you are loved; you are known, by the ones whose lives you have touched; and they will bear this love for you in their heart forever. They will die with this love for you and take it to their grave with them.”

He could not believe the depth of the words coming from her. He was surprised.

“Will you remember me too?” he asked.

She smiled at his stupid question which answered his question for her.

She turned around to go.

The feeling of the futility of life did not completely go away from his heart but what made him comfortable was the fact that he will always be loved and remembered by the people who mean something to him.

He picked up the leaf and kept it in his pocket and walked back with her.

 

Forbidden

As she lay on the bed, wrapped in the sheets and his arms, staring at the wall, she moved in, closer and felt his heart beating on her back. The thought of her husband haunted her for a moment, the guilt built up within her bosom but it all vanished with the kiss that she felt on the back of her neck. She could never have too much of him. She was madly in love with him, so much that she did not think of what the world would say if they found out about it, if her husband found out about it. It was not infidelity for her, she was faithful to him, she was in love.

She was a beautiful woman in her late twenties, married at the age of 25 by the will of her parents. She could never fall in love with the man. They were married and had a perfect life, living in a big house with ample of money to spend, which was provided at the cost of the husband’s absence in the city, which had gradually resulted in the same in her life. She had soon gotten sick of her life and felt lonely with no children and no friends. She spent most of her time shopping and trying to buy happiness through the materialistic things for she knew that there was no scope of love in her life anymore. She spent her day staring outside the window from her well furnished bedroom, looking at the park in front of their house; looking at the children playing and occasionally went out to sit and talk with them and brought them presents. It was the only thing that made her happy. Their marriage was like a crystal that shined so brightly from the outside but was hollow within. Her life was monotonous.

He was a writer. A young writer, who had just stepped into the world of fame. With his first best seller, he had marked his existence and built up his reputation from the ashes. He had worked very hard and was beginning to enjoy the luxuries of his occupation. He was often approached by his female fans and he knew an opportunity when he saw one, and he never missed a single one of them. He was known for his fantasies; his interests, towards women and in variety of fields. What made him stood out though, was his experience. His mind was too mature for those his age; his writings had a kind of maturity which made it very hard for someone to believe that someone at his age could write something like this. One could hardly relate him to his works. One would expect the writer to be a more experienced person, aged, even in looks. But he had always felt a hollow that he felt will always be there, no matter how much he enjoyed his riches, or his fame or even his opportunities with the ladies. He was often seen standing alone in the darkness of the night, sitting by the lake, thinking to himself. He felt incomplete.

“Do you remember the first time we met?”, he asked.

She nodded with a smile and pushed herself towards him as he grasped her tighter into his arms.

She was in the park and he was staring at her, thinking to himself how beautiful she was, how perfectly her hair shined in the sun and how deep her eyes were. She stared back at him and felt him looking into her soul. She felt so weak and empty, and so vulnerable to his eyes. He felt how complete he would be with her and she felt it too but she had turned her eyes away and in no time, he sat beside her, introducing himself to her. It was the starting of a beautiful relationship that was more than friendship and they both knew it. He talked to her about his works, his ideas, his inspirations and what he wanted from life. She talked to him about her life, her marriage and what she wanted from life. They felt themselves to be perfect for each other.

The meetings became more frequent and she started escaping from her monotonous life and took temporary refuges in his life of creativity. It made her feel good. He made her feel good. She completed him. He wrote about her, he wrote about love and the feeling between them grew more and more intense until finally, they both gave up to the passion that drowned them both. There were no secrets between them, but the sense of right and wrong had been blinded in the light of love. They knew they could lose everything, but nothing mattered to them; they needed nothing else if they had each other.

A sense of guilt rose within her again. “It’s wrong”, she thought and she turned around to tell him that they had to stop seeing each other.

She stared at his face for a while and then said, “I think I should go now.”

“Will I see you tomorrow?”, he asked with the innocence of a child and longing of a lover in his eyes.

His face mesmerized her again. She could never say no to him. She could not live without him. He was where she always found peace. She loved him.

Her heart overcame her mind and all the reasons that she had given herself for her to stop seeing him seemed meaningless now.

“Yes!”, she said with a smile and got up from the bed wrapped in the sheet.

His eyes followed her as she dressed and left with kiss on his forehead.

He closed his eyes and lay there in his bed with her memories.