I was out, of course, while he called. I can’t exactly give flying lessons inside a cozy classroom.
He could have just left the message on the answering machine. But no! He had to call me 13 unlucky times before losing it and blasting his cellphone off with his wand.
He’s like, “Why don’t you carry your cellphone with you?”
Sure, I can carry it. But he should try answering calls while riding a broom driven by a shrieking first-timer trying to avoid birds, trees, humans and electrically-charged clouds.
There is no foothold. I almost drop myself ten times a day while holding a broom with both my hands. I don’t have enough hands to hold a cell phone too.
But does he understand? No! Instead, he blames me for ignoring him. Love sucks…
Day 1: Walking up that winding mountain road in the moonlit night, I look up again. There stands the temple, partially hidden behind the mound of grey rocky slope, looking ancient, bleak and sad. I shouldn’t be able to see it at all from this angle, but somehow I can. I don’t question the vision though. The place has a lonely aura as if no one has visited it in the longest time. But still someone certainly had recently because it has no dust, no cobwebs.
Don’t ask me how I know that–I haven’t reached there yet.
I walk slowly, for the road is full of colourful shops lit by yellow light, like old days. Colourful stone jewellery hangs from the low ceilings and is laid down on the table display…nothing of real value but too pretty to ignore. I’d stop every now and then to hold them in my fingers, maybe try them out in front of the mirror. But my heart wasn’t in it. Then, the urge to reach that temple would grip me and I’d begin walking again, only to stop at the next shop…
Day 2: There are stairs winding between shops, going up and down and up again. I am bone-tired and a little lost. I want to take rest but the temple is pulling my heartstrings, and the compulsion to keep looking for the path keeps me weaving through the crowded marketplace built on the stairs. I look up at the temple at an angle where it should not be visible. But there it is, still too far, still the lonely mysterious place partially hidden behind the grey rocky slope. How I wish to see it up close…
Day 3: I walk that mountain road again, making my way slowly through the shops. I reach a crowded temple, vibrant with pink walls and huge deities that fill the entire room making it a tight fit. It isn’t where I want to go but the crowd of temple visitors jostles me until I fall in line.
The urge to seek something else builds within, making me restless with the crowd’s antics. I push against a houseful of humans until I finally find a way out. I am now on an upward unused grey path that leads to an open gate flanked by high walls. Once I reach the top of the grey rocky mound, I look down. There it is, the temple I seek…
The temple looks mysterious in the moonlight. It is as lonely as ever. I am drawn towards it like a moth to flames. I know, I’m not supposed to go alone in a place where no one else ventures. But my feet take a life of their own. I walk inside.
The darkness is not oppressive. It is releasing.
I stroll around between the many pillars, relishing the serenity. I reach a pair of sliding doors that look like an elevator. I inch closer. There is no visible button but the lift opens for me. There is one more woman there, looking lost in peace. Not sure where she came from. But I step inside anyway as if I know what I’m doing. The door closes behind me. There are no buttons but the lift moves downwards, which does not surprise me.
The lift stops after a long time, or maybe a few seconds. Time does not make sense anymore. The door opens and both of us walk out in a long lobby. The ceiling is too high and invisible to me. There is light on both ends of the long room, but that is to be expected. The place is crowded too but there is no jostling. I look back, the lift door is closed. I know it would not open for me anymore, not that I want it to.
People walk around peacefully at a casual pace, there faces grey and devoid of all emotions except eternal peace. I am here to join them. I begin walking at a casual pace, knowing I have an eternity to explore.
The last thing I hear is the final beep of my heart monitor. I know, now, I’m free.
Honestly, it’s a decent job. I could easily bus tables at the seaside restaurant. It wasn’t as if I had anywhere to go or anything to do. All I did all day was sit on a rock and sing. There were no more sailors to lure and drown anymore.
In the earlier days, mermaids earned a lot more. Mom boasts about drowning an average of a sailor per month. She’d then collect the souls in her neck-shell and sell them to Poseidon for bags of sea oysters with pearl-guarantee. It paid for every comfort in life and a decent retirement.
You see, Poseidon uses human souls to create sea monst…ahem…’exotic beings’ on demand. Initially, he created these beings from the scratch. But it was a long and difficult process, taking several years in tracking a suitable sea-nymph, courting her, waiting for the ‘product’ to grow up and, later, making the mother agree to hand it overn. It also gave him a bad name among the big-wigs at Mount Olympus.
So, he simplified the process by keeping a set of pre-defined ‘baby products’ ready for sale and programming them to life whenever a wannabe parent came seeking. However, the program had its own faults–sometimes there wasn’t enough voilence for ‘character building’ of the species and the ‘products’ weren’t intense enough to challenge/kill men at sea. There were talks at Olympus about Poseidon losing his touch and moving the sea-life contract to Goddess of land-life, Diana.
That’s when inspiration struck. Poseidon began sorting through captured human souls. Once he found the one with enough violence, he inserted it in pre-defined bodies and, then, customised them as per the demand. The product became a booming success and mermaids were the richest soul vendors in the entire ocean.
But now, the job opportunities are dying out.
The new ships are sturdier and have better compass. By sheer luck, if they ever get lost, the radio and GPS ensure that human find them before we can. The competition for sailors is rather tough and we are lucky if we find one per year. It hardly enough to put food on the table.
Hence, my only choice was either to go savage and hunt fishes like the old tribes did or get another job that pays enough.
This seaside restaurant already employs several mermaids and pays in river-oysters with cultured pearls. The scrumptious seafood to all its employees is an added benefit. Plus, a number of hot men throng that place, so there’s a potential to date and drown a few, at least.
You can’t fault us new-age mermaids wanting to work there.
The continuous singing is too annoying…with the singing come the birds who put so much pressure in the chorus that I am now covered with bird-shit.
I should have known that she was bad news the day she walked in all wide-eyed. I should have slammed the door on her face, or may be, when she was sampling from each of the seven bowls on the table, I should have shook a chair or two to drive her out.
I let her try all the beds and later my seven owners actually talked about upgrading the security as if I wasn’t able to defend myself against a child. Well, I was not ineffective, just plain selfish–when I saw this girl in servant clothes, I found hope. I thought that, finally, we might have someone who knows dusting and other cleanup that I sorely needed.
The dwarfs weren’t really thinking when they created the roof that high. Once cobwebs started showing in the rafters, they couldn’t reach them. Now, huge cobwebs hung like an year-round Christmas decorations. The metal frame of the door to ceiling windows had gathered enough dirt to grow plants in. It was rather difficult to tell apart the cows by their colour since they were too high to wash regularly and any hen who flew to the roof was a lost cause.
Well I was right about that part. Once the seven hired her, she did spruce up the place, no doubt. But her habit of singing in a high trill is getting on my nerves. As if birds are not enough, the rabbits, squirrels, porcupines and deer are also here from dawn till dusk, leaving only to eat. Also, the rats and insects are now joining ranks and I am gradually becoming a wildlife sanctuary. Throw in a tiger or too and we could open a circus.
Worse still, she has the habit of inviting random vendors inside the home, regardless of the wares. Never misses a good gossip, that girl! She buys all type of stuff that she may or may not use. It is rather annoying, if you ask me, being treated as a storehouse for useless stuff–smelly candles, too colourful clothes, leather shoes that shrink with first drop of water…
Also, twice in the past years, she has ended up almost dying because of this obnoxious habit–once when a vendor woman sold her laces and tied them too tight around her waist cutting off her breath, and yet again when an old hag combed her hair with a poisonous comb. A reasonable person would have seen sense by now.
But in spite of all that, she is talking to this apple vendor. I don’t like the woman–she looks fake, worse, the way she eyes Snowdrop, she could be a maniac. If she was inside, I would have thrown her out, or may be thrown something on her head.
But the dwarves had been clear to not allow anyone in. So, the two of them are sharing an apple through the window! If you ask me, it looks rather scandalous. Snowdrop often shares ‘stuff’ with other handsome male vendors. But sharing a bitten apple with a woman?
Moreover, she doesn’t seem like she ever cleaned her teeth. She could have Pyorrhea…
Damn! I knew it! Now, Snowdrop’s fainted–must be the woman’s bad breath…
Short Stories | Fish-eye Perspective 