Her Tale – Chapter 9 (A Crossroad)

There only remained one lesson to be learnt: Life brings you only to one crossroad time and time again. One path leads to what you know but do not want to know, the other to what you think you know and what you wish was true.

Every time you choose the later, you drown a little. Every time you choose the former, you die a little.

A/n: So folks, this is going to be my second last post on this blog. I hope you guys enjoyed my crazy thoughts. Thank you so much for reading and sharing your views too. Take care! Bless you all! 🙂

~Anum~

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Her Tale – Chapter 7 (Cleansing)

As the water filled her lungs and the iron hands inevitably strengthened their grip around her lungs, she heaved a sigh and welcomed death. The water did not bring her to an end. Instead, it began to cleanse her insides and the spring of a new life gushed out from her soul. She was no longer drowning, she was rising. She was no longer fading into the darkness of death. Instead, the waves cradled her as she entered into an era of rebirth.

Her Tale – Chapter 4 (Waves)

Red and pink corals surrounded her and the fish welcomed her with their fluid choreography. However, she could not see their hospitality, because all she could feel was the water in her lungs. Drowning was the only thought that engulfed her. So she did the one thing, she should not have done: she fought the tide, she kicked and shoved against it. The tide responded, and before she knew it, she was shoved to the bottom by an enraged Aegaeon.

The Performer

She stood on the stage, smiling at her audience sweetly. The music began to play loudly and she moved, losing her senses to the rhythm of the sounds and her body both in sync with each other. The world was painted a sweet shade of blue and green. The people blurred out and their presence turned into distant shadows indecipherable from the dark that surrounded everything that ever was and that ever will be.

The vast expanse of the universe engulfed her into its welcoming arms and she moved into the rhythm sashaying into the arms of the mother and the father, accepting it and rejecting it simultaneously. Her existence was forgotten and any thought of the world was relinquished. Yet, there she was embracing everything with every cell of her being.

The people were cheering, but all she heard was a distant murmur of the universe beckoning her closer and closer into its arms. She walked into the darkness omitting all the light by engulfing it in her growing existence. She twirled and turned, her ghungroo bells chiming loudly as her pace took up. The audience expected something wild and erotic, something slightly scandalous and yet appropriate enough to pass of as silliness born out of innocence. She appeared to be bent on disappointing them today as her body began turning round and round and round, a hand up towards the sky and a hand down on her heart. Her pace picked up, the music already engulfed by the universe’s silence. The audience would have been disappointed indeed, but they were too enthralled to think about their dissatisfaction. One ghungroo bell broke and the chimes scattered on the stage and the other began ripping apart but she turned, oblivious.

She caught an invisible arm that didn’t feel so much like an arm. She gave in to its iron grasp. Something fell on the stage as she rose entrapped in that permanent grasp. She didn’t know how, but there she was enclosed in a darkness greater and grander than any she had ever seen. There she was flying high above everything that she could not see. There she was, LIBERATED!

A/n: This piece was inspired by a beautiful painting in one of the reading rooms at Cornell’s Kroch Library. 🙂 I wish I had paid more attention to its name and the painter, but alas, may be next time. 

Snippet # 3 – Karma

There she was, Karma, one of the most fiendish looking creatures I had ever laid eyes on. Her long black locks had the allure to trap any man, and her dark magical eyes could hypnotize any soul. But I was neither a man, nor a soul.

“Karma?”

She looked up with a raised eyebrow- a warning, a threat.

“Why do you like torturing people?” I sat down beside her. I knew she would hate my guts, but who cared. At least, I didn’t.

“Who said I liked torturing people? I only like teaching people a lesson. Nothing more, nothing less,” she almost sang. “Take you, for instance. You think you are worth more, and I’ll show you that you are worth naught.”

Her smile unnerved me. But I could not be moved, not an inch.

“Oh Karma, but I am kind to all that you refer to,” I said.

“Don’t worry my child,” she cooed. “All that you refer to shall be kind too.”

“What do you mean?” I was perplexed.

“Oh my sweet, you break hearts. Your heart shall also be broken. I agree that you are kind in your business of crushing dreams. Your dreams will also be crushed with kindness. But your kindness will not protect your dreams, just as those whose dreams you crushed with kindness remained unprotected.”

She thought she had gotten under my skin. She could not have been more wrong. I was not made of porous material. She should have known that nothing penetrates through to a soulless, heartless demon like me.

“Oh pretty Karma, you can crush my dreams all you want, but you can never break my heart.” Poor soul was bewildered at my obnoxious claims.

“We’ll see,” she said.

I gave her a toothy grin and whispered in her pointy ear. “How will you break a heart that doesn’t exist? How will you crush a soul that is no where to be found?”

I left Karma there perched on a log I didn’t see along a stream I cared not for. Her eyes were as big as saucers and her lips trembled in fear. She never crossed my path again. My dreams were crushed as she promised they would be, with kindness too. But, my nonexistent heart remained just as nonexistent, and my soulless body remained just as soulless as I had promised too.

Rendezvous

There was a knock on the door.

She woke up with a start to hear the distant sound of an owl hooting.

Another knock!

She looked at the clock on her bedroom wall: the hour hand was cautiously approaching the number 1, as if scared of what might conspire if it touched it.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

‘Who could it be?’ she whispered to herself. She threw her duvet away from her body, got up with a jerk and yanked her dressing gown from the chair beside her bed. Her heart paced fast as she approached the front door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

‘Who could it be? Who could it be?’ She tried to catch a glimpse of her late night visitor through the peek hole only to view the empty hallway outside her apartment. She was relieved and perplexed at the same time.

‘Maybe they left?’

She was just about to look away when there was another knock on her door.

‘But…’  Her blood chilled in her veins. ‘How…’ There was no one in the hallway, then how?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Tears sprung into her eyes and she wanted to run back into the warmth of her bed. But something was holding her back. It was as if her feet were glued to the floor and she couldn’t move. Her hand was not her hand as it moved steadily to open the door. As the door swung open, she caught sight of a black shadow swooping into her apartment.

The vision of a man standing in the middle of living room enveloped her as she heard the door bang shut. There was music in the distance- a sort of humming in the background as she stared at the being in front of her eyes.

She knew he was Death the moment she laid eyes on him.

Beautiful.

Terrifying.

His face was clear yet indiscernible and his presence was undeniable except at the edges. He seemed suspended in time, as if he existed in every moment, in the past, in the present and in the future unknown. Yet, he was nowhere. He was nothing. He was her long lost friend. He was a foe formidable. He was everywhere. He was everything.

The music in the distance grew louder, a strong beat drummed through her body as he held her in his arms. It was strange dancing with Death. There was a thrill in the way he twirled her around. Her whole body lit up in his arms, yet the flame of her existence began to extinguish. He smirked at her loss of control and her body began to shut down-bit by bit.

The music consumed her as she began to fall through the abyss. Light turned into darkness and the din of life turned into the silence of death.

The clock struck one as her soul left the hubbub of the world.

Disclaimer: The image was retrieved from: http://earthlymartian.blogspot.com/2010/07/beautiful-death.html

A/n: Okay, so ladies and gentleman, I am going to get a little more organized. 😉 If my muse permits, I will be posting short stories every Sunday/Monday, a poem every Saturday and micropoetry throughout the week! So stay tuned folks. A lot more to come your way.

Have a great week ahead! 😀 

~Anum

Why do I always fall for the impossible?

He sat on the edge of her bed. Even though there were a million flowery scents in the air, the room still reeked of death. There was nothing there for anyone to find except a torn page out of her diary, brutally ripped in anger or anguish. It was written in a flourish or a frenzy of emotion, but it was old. Not truly a suicide note, not anything else.

It was just a excerpt out of her life. It was just a glimpse into the depths of her soul. It was benign text born out of some turmoil. It was a treasure of words won after a bloody battle. It was a useless piece of death. It was nothing. It was everything. It was the only thing.

He had visited her room ten times before for a clue to any foul play. He found none. Every single visit just revealed more misery, deprivation and insanity. He had put his cap and badge on the table,where they shone with authority. He felt none of that. Looking down at the torn page, he felt helpless. He felt empty.

I wish I could concentrate on things other than you, but for some inexplicable reason, all I think about, all I dream about, all I live through is you. It is not a normal thing. It is not acceptable, it is almost sickening, but I cannot shun you or your thoughts. I cannot forget you. I cannot let go of your thoughts. I cannot let go of you. You are the one constant in my life that I want so desperately to vary. You are my undoing, my destruction, my loss, my everything.

I prayed that either you would be thrown in my life, or thrown out of my head. Neither happened. I am losing faith in myself. No one knows of the future. All I know is that it should be deprived of you, because you are going to be the death of me.

He did not wonder who or what she was referring to. He only wondered one thing. He only asked one question:

Why do I always fall for the impossible? 

A/n: The image does not belong to me at all. It was retrieved from this amazing blog
—> http://halfwaybetweenthegutter.wordpress.com/2012/05/21/depression-why-opening-the-curtains-can-cause-more-suffering-and-other-advice/