The sky was dark
and the air charged
with the electric between us.
He leaned in until
his face touched mine.
I closed my eyes waiting.
His open lips shattered
my tough facade,
reaching my molten heart.
The universe witnessed
our union as
the Sky and Earth combined
under the blessed showers.
Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay
That day, when I sat next to you, you fidgeted in your seat, ashamed to share your space with a girl like me. You didn’t think I noticed when you rolled your eyes, looking exasperate, at the leggy birdbrain across the class.
One look at my braces and glasses, and you trashed me…like your pencil shavings.
He sprinkled a few drops on himself.
“Go away evil spirits. I banish thee from this body.”
Then, he drank the rest of the glass to ensure he had cleansed every tissue from within.
Then, for a good measure, he drank the rest of the Johnnie Walker straight from the bottle too.
“Drown you evil spirits. I banish you, Corona!”
Note from the author: It may seem a little insensitive to joke about a disease that has taken so many lives. But I just wish to remind all panicked people, including myself, that it is just a disease and not apocalypse…yet.
I run a rosary in my gnarled fingers at peace with my aloneness. Then I hear it–my bane, the jingle of bangles and anklets.
Vexed, I grit my teeth.
Why does she wear the abomination? Of course, I know the reason–the custom. She still has a husband.
I picture her in my mind–standing in the kitchen, face glowing after a night full of love, in a saree of red… green… yellow… It was me many years back. Now white and cream mark the end of my rainbow.
Bile rises in my throat.
She hums a song I have loved all my life–it speaks of hope and love that I once had.
I crush the rosary in a death grip.
She drops something trivial and I lose it. I shout abuses at her and curse my stars for wedding her to my son. I shout until I’m hoarse and can shout no more. I shout until she’s in tears and smiles no more.
Placated, again, I hold my rosary to look for that elusive peace. Sure there will be hell to pay later, literally. But life isn’t exactly heaven for the likes of me.
A hushed conversation
“Isn’t that the same tree stump we passed twice before?”
“Not sure. Can’t tell one from another in the mist.”
Silence
“Greta, should we call out father’s name?”
“Han! We have been over that before. He isn’t coming. You heard mother last night, didn’t you?”
“She was just complaining about the lack of food…”
“And too many mouths to feed!”
“Then, why didn’t they send us to the king? We could have worked as slaves or something.”
“Because then, they would have to give us food for the way and money for the ride. It beats the whole point.”
Silence
“I’m scared.”
“Me too.”
“And hungry.”
“I’m so hungry, I can smell gingerbread.”
“Me too.”
Silence
“Do you remember what old Rabbi told about the witch house made of gingerbread?”
“He’s senile.”
“I hope he’s right. I would rather be eaten than starved.”
Silence
Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay
“I don’t know what the Captain was thinking, dropping me and taking another goalie? I’m the best this school has ever seen. Heck! I’m the best in the country!
I’m sure, he’s jealous! His girl has the hots for me, you know. Or maybe, he’s afraid I’ll replace him as a Captain. He’s been trying to discredit me for so long.
You saw him the other day during the match. I was telling that Centre Forward how to hold his stick properly and the Captain jumped out of his pants shouting on the top of his lungs. Even the Coach sided by him, telling me it wasn’t my place and sent me back to the goal. There have been so many incidents like that. And now this!
You are my only hope, sir. As the Principal of our school, I trust you would not let jealousy stand in the way of the next Miracle.”
Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay
I walk in the woods, my eyes seeing red, literally. My anger is spilling out in waves. The swishing sound she leaves behind her makes me grit my teeth.
Why does she have to sound so graceful even now, while I crush the leaves under my feet?
Why could I never be like her? People stop to admire her when she enters a room while I move in her shadow, forever unnoticed and ignored.
Even Papa…
Well, she isn’t pretty anymore with the glass pieces and blood on her face. I drag her in the ravine, finally at peace.
Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay
This post is now part of a short story collection. I will upload the links soon.
Hi All, One of my older stories was published on Drabble.com, a website that specialises in quality short stories.
Please visit and hit the Like/Share/Reblog button if you like it.
via The Road
Alone at dusk I connect the dots,
stars and memories in my mind.
Because I cannot see the future, only feel,
I might as well imagine
and dip my head into the dark sky, awake.
-by Dara Lafayette
Dara Lafayette is a fellow writer from Ireland, a musician and a budding artist. He is a dear friend and my favorite critic who has helped me articulate my thoughts in words.
This is why he writes: “My creative energy draws me to write with passion; to create a scene full of tone and story, and mystery and mastery of words. Writing is breathing to me. It helps me accept the simple and intricate bittersweet beauty of life as I breathe in the woods, forests and beaches. I’m a member of a non-fiction writers group and have done several public readings. Currently, I’m editing the first draft of my debut book of poetry.”
You can find his other pieces of poetry on his writer’s group: https://corknonfictionwriters.blogspot.com/search?q=dara
Photo by Ivan Mani on Unsplash
Short Stories | Fish-eye Perspective 