Seeing Anshika paying no attention to their memories,
Shayan felt choked andfound it difficult to avoid the
imminent tears which never touched the ground.
Wind blowing in gust then left the window flapping. She
noticed and moved towards the window on the other side
of which was Shayan. The man who always loved her and
promised to do the same irrespective of any damn thing
which might occur.
She then halted near the window, pushed the already half
opened curtains to their extremes and looked outside the
window. Shayan on the other side was looking at her from
so close after a long time. Her deep eyes, long hairs and her
beauty rang the same old bells in his heart.Anshika took a
deep sigh and then closed the window to move back to attend
the phone of same ponderous guy who dropped her home.
Her failure to even sense his presence further amplified his
agony. He then left and was wandering in the streets.While
the sun was busy sinking in the west, weird and spooky sounds
started to come from the cemetery in the outskirts.
Wretched Shayan then reached the cemetery. He bypassed
many graves before he stopped near one, white stone of which
had his name on it. The lonely soul then sat on its grave thinking
about his dead love.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Shards - Part 3
Shayan managed to board the congested train that arrived. There were hundreds of people squeezed against each other in those tiny boxes. He looked around to absorb what once was his. Everybody is so lost, he thought. Everyone was either reading the newspaper or scanning their mobile phones for news. The situation did not allow space for laptop else, they would have outdone the portable devices.
After an hour-long journey, Shayan managed to reach the office. He rushed to the coffee house on ground floor to occupy his favorite seat, the last against the wall directly in front of the counter. He then sat there and stared at the office’s entrance door that was on his right and visible from the coffee house made of glass walls. A familiar laugh lifted Shayan’s spirits. He frantically looked around, and he found it coming from the stairs that ran from first floor to ground floor.
Her legs came first in his sight. A green dress surrounded them until knees; black stilettos complimented her white legs. Black leather shoes under a formal black trouser followed her steps. The view eventually became clear and Shayan saw her. Her beauty limited Shayan’s vision, watching just her and no one else. The man said something and she laughed a childish laugh that brought a smile on everyone’s face who heard it. They walked and talked. The man followed her to the counter and tried to make some sort of a physical contact. She did not mind but did not reciprocate either.
They sat for a while, and later went back to their workbenches. Shayan followed her around, but she hardly noticed him. She was busy, busy addressing others. She looked happy, but this was not the plan.
Post work, Shayan stood inside a telephone booth. It was somewhere 10 and about to rain. The streets were getting less crowded. A Lexus came and halted a few meters away. The same man from morning came to drop her home. Shayan was infuriated. She got out and went inside her house. The Lexus stayed there for a few minutes, but eventually it was gone. Shayan got out of the telephone booth and went to the back of her house. He knew a window is on that side. It was open and the curtains were apart. He could barely see anything inside but a photo-frame on the table next to the window. It looked familiar.
He reached forward to grab it, but the gusty winds threw it inside. She came from her room after hearing the loud noise. She stood still for a moment, and then bent forward to pick up the frame. She tossed it back on the table in rage. It flipped and flipped before falling outside. It landed near Shayan’s feet. She lunged towards to the window to catch it but to no avail.
She stood at the window; Shayan stood below with the photo-frame in his feet. He looked at it. It had a half torn photo inside. He was no more in the picture. It was only her.
After an hour-long journey, Shayan managed to reach the office. He rushed to the coffee house on ground floor to occupy his favorite seat, the last against the wall directly in front of the counter. He then sat there and stared at the office’s entrance door that was on his right and visible from the coffee house made of glass walls. A familiar laugh lifted Shayan’s spirits. He frantically looked around, and he found it coming from the stairs that ran from first floor to ground floor.
Her legs came first in his sight. A green dress surrounded them until knees; black stilettos complimented her white legs. Black leather shoes under a formal black trouser followed her steps. The view eventually became clear and Shayan saw her. Her beauty limited Shayan’s vision, watching just her and no one else. The man said something and she laughed a childish laugh that brought a smile on everyone’s face who heard it. They walked and talked. The man followed her to the counter and tried to make some sort of a physical contact. She did not mind but did not reciprocate either.
They sat for a while, and later went back to their workbenches. Shayan followed her around, but she hardly noticed him. She was busy, busy addressing others. She looked happy, but this was not the plan.
Post work, Shayan stood inside a telephone booth. It was somewhere 10 and about to rain. The streets were getting less crowded. A Lexus came and halted a few meters away. The same man from morning came to drop her home. Shayan was infuriated. She got out and went inside her house. The Lexus stayed there for a few minutes, but eventually it was gone. Shayan got out of the telephone booth and went to the back of her house. He knew a window is on that side. It was open and the curtains were apart. He could barely see anything inside but a photo-frame on the table next to the window. It looked familiar.
He reached forward to grab it, but the gusty winds threw it inside. She came from her room after hearing the loud noise. She stood still for a moment, and then bent forward to pick up the frame. She tossed it back on the table in rage. It flipped and flipped before falling outside. It landed near Shayan’s feet. She lunged towards to the window to catch it but to no avail.
She stood at the window; Shayan stood below with the photo-frame in his feet. He looked at it. It had a half torn photo inside. He was no more in the picture. It was only her.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Daily Ordeals - Part 2
The clock struck 7am, and the alarm clock played a song called Boulevard of broken dreams, the music of which makes you feel as if you are up for a trial in Dante’s inferno. Shayan woke up against his desire. He realized that he survived again. He stared at the roof non-stop. He took out his right hand from blanket to check the cut on his wrist. It was …
“Another nightmare,” he said to himself. He pushed away the sheets to get up and get ready for the day. He struggled to reach the bathroom. Emotional trauma inflicts more damage than physical. Shayan turned on the shower and stood below it, putting his hands against the wall. Water began to travel down his worn-out face; Images from past began to flash across his mind.
After an hour, he dressed up and left the house for another ordeal.
“Another nightmare,” he said to himself. He pushed away the sheets to get up and get ready for the day. He struggled to reach the bathroom. Emotional trauma inflicts more damage than physical. Shayan turned on the shower and stood below it, putting his hands against the wall. Water began to travel down his worn-out face; Images from past began to flash across his mind.
After an hour, he dressed up and left the house for another ordeal.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Prelude - Part 1
Slish Slash !
Blood oozed from Shayan’s left wrist and colored the washbasin red. It was a horrifying site to see your blood diluting with tap water and going down the drain. However, Shayan seemed to enjoy it.
The face in the mirror showed signs of discomfort and excruciating pain. Shayan began to sweat as well. The smile on his face disappeared as memories unfurled. He pressed his wrist harder to redirect his mind’s attention from memories to the bleeding wrist. Memories that persuaded him to do such creepy things came back to him.
The cut this time was deeper than before. The deepening of the cut was obvious because he has repeatedly slit his wrist at the same spot. Also, the razor was tad sharper. His attempts of crossing out the tattooed A.R. initials with the blade were now boring fruit. The initials were now less visible. He has slit his wrist every night to forget his past but it seldom brought any results. The days he came home drunk were different. He did not do any such masochistic act when sloshed because the alcohol gave him company. After all, alcohol is broken hearts’ best friend.
Suddenly, tap water’s noise began to fade away. Shayan squirmed in discomfort to reach one of the bathroom’s corners. He sat against the wall and his breathing became heavy, the mirror, bathtub, the knife, and all began to sway.
His sight began to degrade. Shayan realized that he was losing consciousness, which brought a tiny smile on his face. He thought it will all pass away, and he will not need to open his eyes again. In his remaining seconds of sobriety, he realized that darkness has been his only friend since beginning. Rest, no matter how much he loved him or HER, they parted ways.
Eventually, it was all pitch black.
Blood oozed from Shayan’s left wrist and colored the washbasin red. It was a horrifying site to see your blood diluting with tap water and going down the drain. However, Shayan seemed to enjoy it.
The face in the mirror showed signs of discomfort and excruciating pain. Shayan began to sweat as well. The smile on his face disappeared as memories unfurled. He pressed his wrist harder to redirect his mind’s attention from memories to the bleeding wrist. Memories that persuaded him to do such creepy things came back to him.
The cut this time was deeper than before. The deepening of the cut was obvious because he has repeatedly slit his wrist at the same spot. Also, the razor was tad sharper. His attempts of crossing out the tattooed A.R. initials with the blade were now boring fruit. The initials were now less visible. He has slit his wrist every night to forget his past but it seldom brought any results. The days he came home drunk were different. He did not do any such masochistic act when sloshed because the alcohol gave him company. After all, alcohol is broken hearts’ best friend.
Suddenly, tap water’s noise began to fade away. Shayan squirmed in discomfort to reach one of the bathroom’s corners. He sat against the wall and his breathing became heavy, the mirror, bathtub, the knife, and all began to sway.
His sight began to degrade. Shayan realized that he was losing consciousness, which brought a tiny smile on his face. He thought it will all pass away, and he will not need to open his eyes again. In his remaining seconds of sobriety, he realized that darkness has been his only friend since beginning. Rest, no matter how much he loved him or HER, they parted ways.
Eventually, it was all pitch black.
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