My Stories – FallenPhoenixFlight

Little Close to home

“Lizzy, Lizzy, Lizzy, come back here this moment,” Helen shouted at the top of her lungs. The sun beat down on her, causing her palms and feet to sweat. She felt out of breath as her toddler, Lizzy, ran freely across the garden, laughing without restraint. Lizzy’s exuberance knew no bounds, even as she ignored Helen’s calls.

It had been a long time since Helen had last seen her baby. Karan didn’t want Helen to overexert herself, though she could never tell him that she didn’t mind. Lizzy was the only good thing in her life after Karan, and she would be damned if she let anything come between them, anything or anyone except Karan.

About to yell again, Helen heard footsteps behind her and Helen sensed Karan’s presence before she even saw him. A familiar citrus note filled the air, comforting her and reassuring her that he was here, even before she turned to see him trudging towards them.

“Helen, this is not done. I had to leave my meeting halfway and run all across the city to come here when Lizzy’s school principal called me. Why the hell would you pull Lizzy out of her classes?” Helen smiled at Karan; her husband was always overthinking. He was someone who followed the rules religiously, so this would come across as reckless to him.

How she wished she could tell him to relax for once in his life, but alas, she shouldn’t think about things she would never do.

“Helen, I will take Lizzy back. You rest. Okay. I… I will call you,” Karan said, slightly tilting his head at her, attempting to pass her. However, Helen didn’t let him. She had missed him; he hadn’t taken a day off, and this could be their chance to have a family picnic.

Karan frowned. “Helen, please let me get Lizzy. You can meet her next week.” Why would Helen need to wait for a week? Karan was always blabbering nonsense.

“Let’s all have a picnic together. Lizzy, Lizzy, look, your papa has come to us from his office; we are having a picnic,” Helen said, trying to involve Karan. Lizzy, who was running aimlessly, stopped at this and smiled widely at them. Helen turned her mischievous eyes on Karan. “See, now you can’t escape. We are having a picnic.”

“Helen, have you taken your medicine today?” Karan’s never-ending concern would be the death of her, Helen thought as she walked away to get Lizzy. However, Karan beat her to it, picking Lizzy up. She frowned. Sometimes Karan could be such a prick; why the hell was he taking her daughter away from her?

“Helen, I will call you once I reach home. We need to go now. Bye.” Lizzy didn’t want the fun day to be over, so she stretched her hands toward her mom. Before Helen could grasp her tiny little fingers, Karan was already walking away.

Helen felt her chest swelling, making it harder to breathe. Why the hell couldn’t Karan understand that she didn’t need a break? Now he had taken Lizzy back to her school and told her to go back to rest. She didn’t need rest.

But Karan loved her and wanted the best for her. She would make him see, once he was back at night, that she could take care of Lizzy.

After closing her laptop and shutting her eyes, Ria felt the weight of exhaustion settle upon her. Despite possessing everything a person could ask for—a successful writing career where she could work as per her own choice, a loving husband who even though is away a lot manages to send her message every hour, and enough money to indulge in weekly luxury shopping—she still felt a profound connection to Helen. Helen’s character was one of her best creations, and Ria couldn’t wait to finish her story.

Helen, although Ria knows she wants to write her as a mental patient whose breakdown happens after her husband leaves her for another woman she feels there is more to this particular character, from where Helen comes from and what made her snap.

Ria empathized with her, having once experienced a similar feeling of losing herself. She hoped that if she ever encountered someone like Helen in real life, she might be able to offer them support and understanding. Perhaps, in doing so, this cycle of loneliness could find its end.

Her doorbell rang, and she grinned to herself; Pratik was finally here. She almost ran down the stairs, unlatched the door, and fell into Pratik’s arms, she inhaled deeply, taking in the comforting scent of cinnamon and citrus that clung to him.

“Someone missed me,” Pratik teased.

“You have no idea. You were gone for two weeks instead of one,” Ria replied, knowing she was exaggerating, but she couldn’t help it when Pratik just chuckled.

“Aww, I miss you too, baby. But we should close the door and stop giving our neighbors a free show,” Pratik said, pulling back.

As Ria was about to close the door, she saw a woman across the road staring intently at her. For a second, she froze, feeling like she knew her. Then she blinked, and the thought vanished as she released her breath. She didn’t know the woman and closed the door.

As Pratik and Ria lay in bed at night and Ria closed her eyes, the woman she saw earlier came to her mind, and her eyes flew open. The eyes were the same hazel brown eyes with a glint of gold spark that shone when the sun hit them. She remembered those pair of eyes; how could she not when she had created them in her writing? Even with the distance, those eyes were how she imagined Helen’s eyes would be, and her heart beat like crazy.

Then Ria chuckled at her own stupidity. Of course, that wasn’t Helen. Her character wasn’t the real woman she had seen. And she slept.

A silhouette stood near the window, and the gold sparkled in a pair of eyes when the moon shone. The figure smiled at Pratik, who slept peacefully.

Feature Image Credit- Photo by Stormseeker on Unsplash.

End Road

The end is where I found you, where I found us. Even though the path has been nothing but a pebble-filled, unconstructed road, and I keep falling and bleeding all over those rocks, you, my love, are worth it. Can you hear the beats of my heart when I said goodbye to you that day on your porch? I still remember distinctly the smell of your perfume, lavender with a hint of bergamot, that you would never admit stealing from me. You thought I was a heartless bastard, leaving my wife after our first night together, but did you know I cried your name every day in my sleep? My friends laughed and teased me when we were on the grounds, and when I was in battle and death loomed over my head, I wished only for you. I was left in shambles by my friends, believing me to be dead, and I was dead because I knew I would never get back to you. I was in enemy territory, and I never dared to hope. But in my weak moments, I would hear your laugh, the way you would wrinkle your nose in distaste when I ate with my hands. I reminisce about how I asked your father for your hand in marriage, and no matter how much you insist you didn’t know me, your lips trembled when your father asked you to reject me. My love, I continued to live on that cold, hard, yet wet surface in the bunker, with trash colligating my nose, for forty years just because I knew you were alive too. I had no hopes, no blessings in sight, but leaving the world when you were still a part of it was unbearable to me. I wouldn’t lie, in my wretched hours as I would lay in my cot, and the thoughts of you loving someone else wreak havoc inside me, and no matter how much I wished for your happiness, I wouldn’t let this thought take residence in me, afraid it would come true. But we persevere, my love. I am coming home, and they told me you are waiting for me. So yes, the god has taken a shining on us as we would be together in our death beds, and it doesn’t matter because in the end, we did find each other.

Thank you for reading my story. Small shoutout to the owner of pic- “Photo by Fabrizio Coco on Unsplash“

White- Chapter 1

Cold. The biting chill seeps into my bones, causing an involuntary retreat of body parts I’d rather keep outside my torso. Attempts to move my fingers are met with resistance; they won’t budge. Where am I? That’s when it struck me; I should probably open my eyes. A flash of white, so bright it has me closing them again. I tried again, this time slowly blinking the intensity away. Okay. So I am inside a metal container and I am stripped naked. Not good news for me. Above my head, a stripe of light is creeping in, and I know I should be doing something to come out of this, but my brain hasn’t made a proper greeting to my body yet.

Bringing my arms to the top of the container, I made a feeble attempt to knock, but my mouth refused to cooperate and screamed for help. Who is going to help? Where am I? And who am I? No idea, but a distinct voice in my brain tells me to focus on escaping from this coffin. Oh, coffin, I know what it is. It’s where you place dead bodies. A vivid image of me tossing people into them as they scream came into my mind, and I closed it off.

But coffins are usually not made of metal. Maybe I can break this thing off. But usually, you have a coffin six feet under the ground. As I could see that stripe of light, that might not be the case for me. I push my body up and slide up and down, even though my body is protesting with every motion. After repeating it a few times, I successfully moved the container out of its place, and my eyes took in the ceiling above me and the fluorescent bulb blinking brightly at the top. As my eyes moved, I saw that I was actually at the last row of some similar black metal lockers. Morgue.

My brain is my only friend currently, as it decided to give me some much-needed information. If only it could be a darling and tell me who I am and how I ended up in a morgue, it would top the non-existent list of my favorites.

A smell of copper and decay flared in the air, and I clambered out of the locker. It’s really freaking cold. Damn, what the hell are they doing shoving a totally alive person in a morgue? Did they want my brain to freeze up and die? And how the hell did I survive?

Later. My new best friend prompted me, and I got out of the door, only to stop as on the ground I found two guards lying dead. Their throats were sliced. Nice. Free clothes. I strip them off, as unlike me, they are actually dead and have no use for modesty. Modesty? We don’t care about that. But it would certainly make us invisible. My best friend, whom I am going to call Jericho now, tells me in a non-argumentative manner.

After taking the clothes from the dead guards, I made my way to the exit. We were in a wide corridor with a lot of doors, and all of them were morgues. Jeez, why care so much for the dead? There were two staircases leading to both up and down. Deciding to go with the one going upstairs, I tip-toed. At this point, I am blindly trusting Jericho to guide us through the mess.

Jericho said we aren’t exactly in a hospital, which is the place where people go for the sake of curing themselves from diseases and get trapped in a system of bills and medicines. We hate hospitals. To be honest, Jericho, I am not a fan of this place either. I reach an open corridor; the sun has set down for the day, and it’s warm. My body relishes the warmth after being cold for so long. But it’s all empty. There were rooms upon rooms with benches and scribbled walls with colored pencils. It’s a school.

What the hell! Why is there a morgue inside the basement of a school? Something is not right about this place. Am I right, Jericho? I am right. I know it. I didn’t wait for Jericho to validate me. A pair of footsteps sliced through the silence like a knife, and my feet suddenly sprang into action, and I hid myself inside one of the classrooms. I see from my hidden spot; there were some more guards jostling with each other as they passed the corridor, and I see them disappear to the same staircase from which I have come out. Fast. Move. I came out of the classroom and got down to another side of the floor and down a new pair of staircases which led me directly to the field.

I hear a scream behind me, probably from one of the guys on finding their friends all sliced up. I hope they don’t think I am the one who killed them and have become a zombie; not good for my reputation.

A certain flash of me gliding across a dance room with a beautiful woman in my arms came to my mind, but I slid it right off. Not the right time at all to reminisce. The main gate of the school didn’t have any heavy locks, so I opened it right away and sprinted into the wilds.

Sanctity

Lizzi is still in bed, sleeping peacefully. I stroke her hair once and she sighs in her sleep and I smile to myself. But as I turn and come down from the bed, my feet touching the cold floor I am punched by the reality of what we have done, what I have done, and the dilemma I must face of what I will do now.

I splash cold water on my face but it does nothing to soothe my heart, a vibrating sound comes back from the room and I hurry over to pick up my cell phone before Lizzi wakes up.

A bile rose up my throat as I read the message from my brother.

“Hey! I am stuck here for a few more days. Could you please check with Lizelle and ask if she needs anything? Is she still pissed at me for coming to this conference on our first-year anniversary and our fight last night?”

My brother Nithin, and Lizzi had an arranged marriage a year back and neither of them was happy about it. My brother had been vocal about his displeasure. He and Lizzi were polar opposites and they wanted different things from life but our parents were adamant.

And after a lot of emotional and verbal fights, they both tie the knot. Our families and I genuinely thought that things would smooth over with time, but it only turned worse.

Nithin hated how outgoing Lizzi was and he considered her irresponsible while Lizzi hated how controlling Nithin was in every aspect of their life. Nithin had asked me to talk to Lizzi because being closer to her in terms of age, I understood her wish to exploring things and wanting to have a life outside the confinement of a house, and being Nithin’s brother I got his point as well. That with time, we need to focus our priorities. It was an uneventful day when my parents and Nithin decided it was a good idea to give me the responsibilty to mend the bridge between Nithin and Lizzi. And that’s how I become the third wheel of a vehicle that could die any minute.

If I am being honest with myself, I found Lizzi attractive as soon as I laid my eyes upon her but after she got married to my brother I tried my best to create a distance between us but something or other kept forcing us in the same vicinity and each time it becomes more and more difficult for me to remain aloof to the connection between us.

Lizzi also reciprocates my feelings, she seems happier when I visit their house or whenever I talk to her. But it was something unspoken and forbidden that we never dared try to act until last night.

It was their first anniversary and Nithin had to leave for a conference all of a sudden and thus he canceled the party, which Lizzi and I had been planning for months. And it was like a band-aid came off and you could see the scar it was hiding. The facade of their marriage crumble and I was there to witness it all.

Nithin even said he wanted a divorce when he came back and Lizzi accepted the same. My heart felt torn as I consoled her. My conscious tried to warn me as we drank together and our walls were slowly crashing but I couldn’t leave Lizzi in her state, she was inconsolable as she kept saying that it was all a big mistake and that her parents had ruined her life. I tried to resist when she hugged me but then she is pulling me in for a kiss and I was breathing her floral scent and I didn’t have the fight in me to stop her. It was like all my heart’s desires lay exposed in front of me and I finally chose to embrace my desire.

Lizzi stirred on the bed and I turned to face her, my phone still in my hands, a constant reminder of my transgression. I have fooled myself and took advantage of my brother’s trust and love.

No matter how many times a couple fights, they aren’t actually going to be separated. What the heck was I thinking? And even if they do so, what will I do? I slept with Lizzi. Lizzi is my brother’s wife, even if they get divorced she would still be his ex-wife. And she was his wife when I slept with her and there was no come back from this. If my brother knew, it would be over. I can’t talk to him. I don’t know how will I ever face him? How will I ever face my parents?

“Hey!” A small voice pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts and I took in the way she was looking at me with soft hopeful eyes, but her smile vanished as she took in my rigid stature and glassy eyes.

“We did nothing wrong.” Her voice held a conviction that I didn’t feel at all.

“We did nothing wrong, Ajay. Your brother and I were never meant to be together.” She crawled towards me and with every inch she removed between us, I wanted to run and put that many miles. So I wouldn’t see the proof of what I have done.

“Listen to me. No one has to know. No one will know.” She is cradling my hand now and I snatch it away with a jerk.

I couldn’t be near her at this moment and I felt like my breath had come undone. I tried to find my clothes that were in disarray like my life and I wore them in an unfashioned manner.

“Stop freaking out, Ajay. For god’s sake, what is the big deal if we slept together? All you need to do is keep your mouth shut. Nithin and I will get a divorce and then we can do whatever we want as simple as that.” I stopped closing the buttons of my shirt and turned to her and for the first time saw her for who she was it stumped me on how blind I was to ever think that she was beautiful. She looked ugly to me at that moment and I felt a rage pouring out of me in vicious hot rays circling around her and some of it might be visible to her as well because she took a step back.

“It is a big deal,” I said slowly as I strode towards her. “We both did wrong to my brother. He didn’t deserve such betrayal and if you don’t get this then you really are how my brother has always thought you to be. A shameless and selfish…” I stopped myself from continuing and took a deep breath.

“Complete it, Ajay. Complete it. Say what you actually think now that you got what you wanted from me. Now you are suddenly on your brother’s side but you didn’t seem to care about him yesterday or the days before when you continuously told me that I deserve BETTER.” She scoffed at me, and I felt a pang of guilt as I remembered my reckless words. I had said them to comfort her, not because I truly believed them. Surely she understood that?

Her lips curled into a sneer as I remained silent

“Cat got your tongue, now? You all men are the same. I should have known, go on. Go and tell your brother what we did and see what you could accomplish by proving me to be the villain. I don’t care.” She has her hands around her arms like she is controlling herself or protecting herself.

“Go Ajay. I don’t want to see you as well. Get out.” She said and when I didn’t move she shouted once more. “Get the fuck out of here.”

I hastily finished closing all the buttons of my shirt and put on my shoes, Lizzi remained inside the room out of my eyes. Thankfully, I had driven my car yesterday, saving me from the indignity of waiting for a taxi.

But as I opened the door to finally leave this disaster of a mistake, my heart was still as I met the eyes of my brother.

Last Night Journal

Photo by eberhard 🖐 grossgasteiger on Unsplash

Penning down my thoughts as I wait for my network to resume its work when electric power returns and I would be able to go back to writing my own fucked up world that held me in a chokehold while I beg for mercy. My words are jumbled in my mind and no coherent thought passes by me, every sane part of me has left the ship and I am abandoned by the vultures who are ready to rip me to pieces and throw every damn bone to dogs they have for slaves.
I am turned into a fucking mockery of a person. And my identity is in shambles, I am faking a life I have no control over and how am I better than those clueless bitches who are on social media crying over a crisis that doesn’t exist.
At this point, I am just stitching sentences together that sound more beautiful, and feel more poetic and I could envision myself as a writer for some more time, even if it’s one second or one minute longer. Doesn’t matter, I am in love with this idea of a girl I have been turning to and it’s too late to change my mind. She is art, she is love, she is everything that I am not. She is strong, empathetic, confident, funny, and a cute and ambitious little minx. I love her. I want to protect her, just like the plethora of worshippers at her feet, I am just dying to prove myself to her.
She is the sun that shines on my life just by existing. She is the warmth of my cold brazen blanket, that in itself is just a piece of textile that holds no purpose if someone isn’t laying wrapped in it.
Finally wrote a few paragraphs- is it enough? Is this what I wanted? To just write because that’s my activity of the day and nothing else. What now? What could I accomplish by just penning different characters with each other and hoping for an impactful writing that would change the world? Every writer thrives to write a piece that speaks to the souls of their readers. How can I write such a piece when my own soul refuses to meet the eyes of its owner?
I have a cold seeping inside my fingers and it’s becoming difficult to keep typing but I don’t want to stop yet because I said I would be finishing my writing goals for today. My husband is outside with my child and I am here alone in a room lit by the only light coming from this piece of equipment that I call my buddy.
I told him I had work. I needed to finish writing for my new article. It’s a lie I know. Yet, a part of me keeps repeating it. It’s a truth a part of him keeps believing. We love each other in a way that all couples do, we have sex twice a year, and go on dinner dates once every few months without the kids, all my friends know I have been a lucky bitch to land a husband that earns more than I could spend. The best part he let me keep this hobby of mine, and I keep telling myself I am an author. A self-published one but an author indeed.
Then why do I keep questioning the foundation of my establishment so often, as soon as my child goes to sleep or I find a moment too quiet, and why it’s the first place where my mind wanders? It can’t all be because of him.
That unknown stranger who I have been seeing in my yoga classes from afar and who smiles at me. No, it’s not because of him. It’s because of that accidental touch that happened a few days back between us that sparked a life within the dead tissues of my intimate walls. A spark I haven’t felt since, since before I could remember when I stopped reminiscing.
I have finished my daily writing goals so I should stop writing now also it’s lethal to remember that moment. If I keep thinking about it, I might actually start to believe the rambles I have been sprouting on this page.

Jhumri

Jhumri Motilal Pandey, her name was a mouthful but suits her perfectly. Jhumri was ten years old, but she would bit your ear off if you told her so. Jhumri has been hundred year old when she was born and every year she keep gaining wisdom beyond others belief. Living in a small town of Bihar, that seem to lay forgotten in this day and era as there people still use letters instead of phones and where electricity is a privilege that occurs once in a year.

The only thing that remains to view in this town was the serene temple that holds all the decision for the town and is governed by the one Pandit whose family was bestowed with blessing of Goddess Durga. All the people of town daily gathers here to listen to the Bhajan and Kirtan and the speech from the Pandit ji to enlighten their life.

Jhumri has been a witness to these events numerous of times and once she lost her toy in the temple and when others were trying to find it she stated that materialistic things have a way to get lost and we shouldn’t exert ourselves in the possession of those. This garns the attention of people to hear such words from a kid.

When her aunt from across the town came and share her grief over the death of a relative, Jhumri stated that the relative died peacefully and she should be happy about that.

Soon the door of Jhumri’s house were filled with people who wants to listen to Jhumri and her take on the problems of their life.

Jhumri is special for everyone with the exception of her brother Deva, who still throw bugs at her at any given time of the day and pull her hair just to annoy Jhumri, but that is a written law for siblings to hate other. It’s natural. But everyone else is in awe of her wit and intelligence. Now, one may think what is so special about Jhumri?

Nothing but when Jhumri was five years old she was able to recite complex poem with their meanings and when she become eight, she start to teach her father the basics of business no one in the town has ever heard of before.

Jhumri’s parents were at first happy to get a child like her but slowly they start to fear Jhumri is too special and different from them. Jhumri doesn’t like to sit on a dirty floor, wouldn’t do the chores she found beneath her.

At first, it was just a suspicion but then one day when the Pandit who has hear about this miracle kid came and looked at Jhumri and asked her parents if they had stole Jhumri and swore at them if they lied he would made sure they rot in jail. Jhumri’s parents cried, pleaded and said Jhumri was their first child and they haven’t stole her from anyone.

At this point, Pandit become slightly softened and explained to them that Jhumri is a reincarnation of a goddess and she should have been born in an upper cast home, because that is where she belonged.

Jhumri’s parents were both exhilarated that their child was divine and also still scared of the wrath of the Pandit if he continued to think they kidnapped Jhumri.

For a month, Pandit daily come to Jhumri’s house and used to observe her from distance and then one day he called Jhumri’s parents to temple and told them that he is certain Jhumri is a part of god’s blessing on their village and they should give Jhumri to the temple.

The parents were shocked, the mother went hysterical and wasn’t ready to gave up her child, the Pandit chided them to be selfish and gave them some fund to made them see it’s good for everyone that Jhumri stays in temple itself.

The arrangement was made and Jhumri came to live in temple and although Jhumri was exceptionally good with numbers and has her wit with her, she couldn’t understand how from Jhumki she become MotiDevi overnight, She doesn’t understand that although she liked to talk she wants to play with her friends as well and why her parents doesn’t come to meet her anymore and why the only person who still look at her the same way but still never come near her is her brother.

Deva although may hated the attention his sister got from their parents but losing her wasn’t what he wished and he prayed to the god to gave him, his first archnemsis back. His Jhumri back.

My Father Died as a Sad Man- Short Story

Bonzo knew what entailed once he set foot upon the threshold of his childhood home. But he needs to do this. One last time. For the one man who taught him everything.

There were a lot of people inside the Jeffries house. But one can easily distinguish between the people who have come to mourn his father and the ones who were there to witness the fallout.

Rasika was catering to everyone, making sure everyone had what they needed, and even though it was her father’s funeral they should feel at ease. Her eyes met with Bonzo and a scowl came across her face, her feet swiftly moved towards Bonzo and she dragged him outside to the garden, smiling politely if she saw anyone swiping their eyes at them.

“What are you doing here?” She all but hissed at Bonzo.

“I… I came to see him one last time.” Bonzo is flabbergasted on the question. He had just come to pay his respect.

“Oh come on. Stop playing the innocent boy, now. MY FATHER is long dead. And you might remove any idea going around your devious head of robbing anything off his will.” Rasika knew Bonzo, his father adopted as his godchild. His golden child that he loved more than his own family. The boy Rasika never could compare to in her father’s eyes. She would be damned if she let him steal any other thing that belongs solely to her.

Bonzo startled and looked around after listening to the words coated with venom and the implication it stirred. He shifted his feet and his eyes almost glistened but Bonzo knew the family of his father hated him. They aren’t aware that he is already in the will and he would receive it irrespective if he is here or not so money is totally not his motivation. Bonzo thought of Rasika, the golden child of his father. He has more reasons to hate her than she would ever know.

Rasika is the rightful kid of his father who abandoned Bonzo, only to come back years later because his dying sick mother begged him to give Bonzo shelter and his name, also all of her savings. But Bonzo loved his father nevertheless, he did everything he could to get the validation and the hope that one day he would acknowledge Bonzo as his son and not the dirty little secret that blossomed due to a drunken mistake.

Rasika frowned, her eyes taking the man in front of her, his mouth clasped shut and a simmering tension between them. Her eyes noticed his dirty shoes to his unshaven beard, the guy was a mess. She almost lost her composure and her feet swayed slightly as she noticed her late father’s watch tied on that wrist. It doesn’t matter she tried to convince herself. Her father is gone and now she had no obligation to entertain this little shit in their life. All she needed to do was get him out before her mother saw him, that would ensure a spectacle that would be out of her control.

“Get out of here. Pay your respect or whatever from the apartment, you tricked my father into buying for you.” Rasika all but pushed Bonzo but she was a lean little girl where as Bonzo was tower over her with extra two inches or so and has a hunky build. A frustrated groan slipped Rasika’s mouth when Bonzo didn’t budge at all and kept looking at her with thin lips and narrowed eyes.

“Stop” Bonzo didn’t mean to shout but Rasika tested his patience, just because he doesn’t have a fancy job like her didn’t mean she could treat me like a bug in her shoes. Bonzo took a step back and took a deep breath, his father would have enjoyed the show probably.

Rasika took a step back herself begrudgingly because she distinctly remembered that a whole crowd awaited them over one foot away and she really didn’t want to cause chaos at her father’s funeral. She could expect that from Bonzo who is more brawn than brain and is just a constructor worker but she has a standard to maintain.

“I would just be there for a minute and be out before you could blink, I don’t want” Rasika interrupted Bonzo.

“No. Don’t you understand a single word that I said? We don’t want you there. Stop creating a ruckus and get out of here before my mother sees you.” Rasika gritted her teeth at each word.

Bonzo has two options either fight with Rasika and forcibly make his way inside or simply make his peace. He wasn’t good at making peace. But he won’t give Rasika the satisfaction of kicking him out or maybe calling the police on him, which he knows for a fact she would love but he couldn’t handle a black stain on his reputation. So Bonzo backed away, seething he would wait. Now that his father is out of the equation, he could bring the truth in front of everyone. He could claim the identity that was stolen from him and do so without the guilt of disappointing the man who was his father. But still tucked inside his heart is a hope that refuses to wither away. Hope for a family, even though if there is enough hatred to last generations, he would wait.

Hatchling

Warning: A disturbing scenario involving child abuse, Mature Content.

Joey sits in the corner of my class, watching as the other students leave. His face shone as sunlight fell on him from the open window. He didn’t move nor did he make any attempt to speak, waiting patiently for some instruction. In another life, he would grow to be a perfect soldier. The calmness he possessed at the age of six is rare.

I had to cancel my class today as I needed to restock my cabinet and most parents were happy to take their kids back, some got angry because of the inconvenience it caused them, and I could have texted beforehand. I apologized and told them they could have two free classes to recompensate for today, mollifying them for the ordeal they were going to face to handle their kids for a longer time.

Soon, the whole class was empty except for Joey and me, I went near his seat and dropped on my knees to get to his eye level. Joey is a beautiful kid, with deep black eyes that grasp you in an enchantment from the first look. He would have grown to be a handsome man with enough intelligence to shame a scientist.

I ruffled his hair and smiled at him, “I am sorry, Kid. I tried your mother’s number but she didn’t pick it up. Do you want me to give you a lift to your house?”

He shook his head, already built not to take help from others.

“Thank you, Mr. Kane. But, I will take a bus back home.” I pursued my lips but Joey must know that I trust in his capability and I respect his decision. Kids are just like adults, they want you to be there for them but at the same time, they want to prove themselves as well.

“Sure. But let me walk you till the bus stop and before leaving please finish the breakfast.” He looked down and gave me a curt nod. I walk back to my desk to collect all the supplies. I always arrange breakfast and lunches for all the kids in my play school. As kids get hungry fast and most kids who come here have neglectful parents I always made sure all have their tummy filled before I even start the class.

My school is in a very questionable neighborhood, but I knew what I was doing when I started this program. Most people here respect me for what I am doing for their kids, the fee is minimal and the facilities are top-notch, thanks to my career as a best-selling author I could afford to offer a piece of calmness in the chaos they call life.

After Joey was done, I closed the classroom and held his small hands and we walked to the bus stop. It was sunny today and I was sweating by the time, the bus came and I let Joey climb inside and wave him goodbye. He didn’t return the gesture, his eyes had the same void inside them as all of them. I sighed with regret and walked toward my car.

I removed the tie from my neck as I put on my seatbelt and the engine roared to life, I drove opposite the bus, the high speed of my car taking me away Joey per second. But he never left my mind. I still remember when I first met him. His mother carrying a thousand-dollar purse and following her in small steps in raggedy clothes with hollowed cheeks was Joey. His eyes took his surroundings and he seemed to put every detail in his brain, in case he needed to escape from there.

I don’t have to be a genius or an empath to know the kid was abused. To what extent, I wasn’t sure at that time. But now, I am aware of the horrors that lay within the walls of his home. And I know I am the only one who can rescue him. I pressed my toes on the accelerator, I have to time this perfectly. That’s the most important aspect of it. They say there is no such thing as a perfect crime, but if you are doing it in a neighborhood where the casefiles numbers are far larger than the population there is a high probability the system would just wrap it in a week or so.

As soon as I reach my destination, I conceal my car behind a truck and start to walk. My armpits were soaked and there was sweat on my forehead, I wasn’t nervous as it was not my first time but the thrill was always there to capture them blindingly. To watch their eyes soaking in the fear when they realized I was there to take them away.

I hid behind a bush, waiting for a perfect opportunity the colony was silent at this time of day, people feeling safe with the sun covering their windows and the cacophony of various television channels coming from each home. Thus, it’s a perfect time for me. As I see my victim, I jump in front and there is a pause as their eyes collide with mine.

“Mr. Kane? What are you doing at my home?” Joey’s voice held the same serenity as always. No note of fear. Yet.

“I was finally able to connect with your mother, she isn’t at home. You see and she asked me to take you to my home.” The lie felt sweet on my tongue.

“But I have the keys to my house. I am perfectly fine.” He frowned at me, different than the kids who would just drop their guards at a familiar person.

“Of course, you do but I am sorry Joey that’s what your mother asked, do you want me to tell her you said, ‘No’?” There that’s something he wouldn’t question. As expected he nodded at me.

He followed me to my car and I made sure, there were no witnesses. As he sat down and I fastened our seat belt and locked the car, he turned towards me.

But he didn’t say anything, so I smiled. He tore his gaze and looked outside the window. I drove my car, my hands sweaty. Joey remains silent, maybe already sensing what awaits him. But he has to know, he has to understand. Otherwise, it wouldn’t change anything.

“I was a kid just like you when I met the monsters that changed my life.” I looked to my right to see if I had his attention and then continued, “I know you understand what these monsters do to small children. How they rip away the innocence and you are left feeling nothing. You are just a void. Doctors said that’s how psychopaths are made, you may not know what that means but you see that’s the term they use to describe what we are, and what they don’t realize is the monster who ruins our lives, most of them are victims as well. So, we are in a loop you see. Monsters keep creating more monsters like us.” I beamed at him at this part, so he could understand how hard it was for me to come to this conclusion.

“We need to break the system. If we kill the parasite at its base and don’t allow them to grow, the world would be free of monsters.” Joey continued to stay silent, but that’s okay. I value his decision. In another life, he would have grown to be a wonderful person. They all would have, I wish if they get reborn they get a fair chance. I smile at him as I ruffle his hair. He would soon be at peace and have a chance of being reborn. With a smile, I speed up the car.

Cold Breeze- A short story

I came hurriedly down the stairs, fumbling with my shoelaces as I tried to tie them while pausing in between, there was an aroma of hot pancakes and vanilla in the air and my mouth watered at the familiar smell. My feet halted when my gaze met with a pair of blue cold eyes of my mother, she was standing in the center of the kitchen with a spoon filled with batter and my sister who was sitting across from her at the dining table, turned to look at me and smirk, I tried not to flinch.

“Have a seat, Becky, and have some breakfast.” Her voice is devoid of emotion as she resumes her work and breaks the spell that has frozen me on the spot. From the corner of my eyes, I see my sister sending a malicious grin my way challenging me with her stare.

“umm, no thanks. I will just eat in the cafeteria at lunch.” I hate myself for my cowardice but I am not ready for a full session of how-I-am-the-disappointment-for-my-family, first thing in the morning. I won’t be able to stomach the food anyway.

My mother gave a nod, dismissing me from her presence and I turned without looking at my sister who I am sure has a victorious grin on her beautiful face.

I came out of the house, the cold breeze feeling good on my skin but there was a heaviness in my heart as I took small steps to the bus stop. As I walked away, my mind felt clearer and I could breathe again. It has always been the three of us in our home since my father passed away when I was a kid and as it happens in a group of three people, one is always alone. In our home, the odd one was me. I have known that I was different from the two of them without being told so, as it had been clear from the way how differently we spoke and acted. My mother and sister were the epitome of beauty and had a touch of feminine grace that was a direct gift from god. I had always been the nerd, the sore thumb that sticks out wherever it went. But we used to be content.

Now there was a hostility that had resided in our hearts. It all started when past year, I failed my midterms and became the joke of school after I made a spectacle of myself on the tryout for the school play. My sister took the insult to her heart and forbade anyone to speak about the incident, being the popular girl helped her achieve that goal, but she also made me the outcast.

The few friends I had slowly left me and my home became just a place to crash, as the bus horn got me out of my thoughts I strode towards it.

“How is your sister doing?” I asked my eldest as I saw Becky leave without eating again, knowing how easily she gets riled up I never pushed her for anything. Keeping my voice low and steady to not startle or trigger her in any way. She has always been a shy kid and the sweetest soul that I keep trying to protect.

“Not good, mum. I taught those bullies a lesson who were trying to mock her and they stopped but Becky has been shielding herself more and more. I talked to one of her friends and they told me she has been rejecting their invites for hangouts and doesn’t respond to the messages. I… I am sorry, mum. You know how she gets defensive, so I can’t even approach the topic with her.” Gina said the last words with a hitch in her voice and I reached my hands to soothe her.

Gina became too mature after my husband died and I sometimes wish, she could loosen up a little, act according to her age, and have some fun. But she is similar to me in that way, maybe that is why I could understand her better. We both shielded Becky as much as we could after David, she was too young when he died. And even though she had always been reserved, she used to share things with us. But lately, she seemed to be slipping out of our hands like sand.

“I got to go as well. Bye, mum. And please take your medicine. You are stressing yourself way too much.” Gina took her scooter keys and left after kissing my cheeks. Becky had put her feet down when I suggested both the sisters go together to their school when I bought the bike on Becky’s birthday. But she refused to budge and because I couldn’t return it, Gina ended up being the one who uses it now. All my efforts to bring my children together seem to drive them further apart. I sigh as I pick the left batter to keep in the fridge. I made pancakes today because that is Becky’s favorite and I remember how she used to gobble them down in a minute while laughing at one of David’s silly acts. If David was alive, would it have been different, is he ashamed of me and the way I am letting my youngest child down? the cold air of the refrigerator soothes my muscles as I open it but there is a heaviness in my heart as I close it and walk back.

Daydream- A short story

There is a void inside my chest that keeps expanding as I look around me. I want to go home. I want to listen to music and dream. This is exhausting, I don’t want to socialize and make a mockery of myself. My real friends are in my head and they are more than enough. I mindlessly nod at whatever the people around me are talking about, they are laughing for some reason and it’s annoying.

My gaze strays to my mom who is sitting beside a group of ladies and I excuse myself from the strangers with whom I was forced to mingle. I see the displeasure in my mother’s eyes as I make the excuse of work. I have no work, I didn’t have any work for months now. We both know but she would never confront me, I am aware of that as well.

Coming back to my room was like a breath of fresh air, it was soothing. I removed the jeans and wore my shorts, climbing to my bed and the smooth texture of my bedsheet was warm. I close my eyes and decide with whom I want to talk.

My body shivered as I decided, I wanted to cuddle with my boyfriend. I sigh as I feel the presence of him behind me. His fingers stroking my arms and I tighten his hold on me.

I recounted all the events of my mother dragging me from my room and forcing me to come along with her to a reception. She bribed me with food and I reluctantly decided that ice cream was worth the effort.

I paraded around the strangers who were all dressed in the best of their outfits and looked at me with sneers in my jeans and baggy t-shirt.

At that moment, my boyfriend told me how incredible I looked even in simple clothes and they were just jealous of my beauty. I smiled at him and turned around so I could see his eyes. He took my hand and we both got up and danced around in the room while he told me how much he loved me and that being with me was a dream come true. We were about to kiss when there was a loud knock on my door. I stomp my feet as my boyfriend disappears back to my head and I am all alone. I ignored the knock for the first five times, but when my mother shouted someone is here to see me I have no other choice but to open.

Behind my mother looking ethereal was Riya. And I panicked at her seeing me in this state. Riya used to be my friend before she got too popular and pretty to hang out with me. I don’t want her here, I glared at my mother who definitely had forced her to come. But my mother threw hot daggers back at me.

I greeted Riya unenthusiastically and she grimaced at me, I wanted to cry as I let her in and for the first time in months see what she would look at when she came inside. My unmade bed with sheets that haven’t been washed in ages. Half the bed has empty wrappers of snacks, my books, and mosquitoes that are flying on top of my blanket. The table was filled with unpacked shopping boxes, dust covering every surface, and just beside the door of the washroom a full-length mirror displaying my muzzled hair, dry cracked lips, my body bulging out of my clothes from different angles.

Riya without a word sat on the bed that looked remotely cleaner and I clenched my fist, if I pretended she didn’t exist she would give up and walk away. She may let her group of followers know about my disheveled state because she is a bitch like that but that would happen anyway so why go through these unpleasantries.

“I need your help,” Riya asked me and my eyes widened and she gave a tentative smile.

“You see I know we have drifted apart but I have a friend who I think needs help. He might be in depression.” I rolled my eyes at her ridiculous attempt.

“I am not depressed, Riya. I have just grown lazy.” The truth felt bitter in my mouth as I spilled at her.

“I know you may think so but Auntie is very disturbed and looking at your room. This is so not you.” She continued as I zoned out, I have heard this numerous times from my mother. People change, yes, I used to be a clean freak and active and wanted to achieve many things in my life. So what? Life happened, everyone went ahead of me and I got stuck and I don’t want to do anything now. I wish just like them that I could become the old ambitious me, but what I have now is more than enough.

I have friends who would always make time for me, my boyfriend who loves me so much that he would never betray me. I can be successful in the stories I spun in my head and we have so much fun as we dance at the parties with music blaring from my phone. Everything I get in a span of seconds, all I need is an empty room. And an empty mind. That’s it.

“Vinnie! Vinnie!” Riya shouted unnecessarily and sighed loudly when I looked back at her.

“Okay! Just for our sake. Get an appointment with this doctor and see for yourself. She is a therapist just for counseling. You just need to talk and if you don’t like it, you won’t have to continue.” She walked away without I could respond. I closed my door quickly before my mother came barging in to ask what we discussed.

I look at the card for a long time. I want to go back to my boyfriend but another part of my brain urges me to give this a try, I think there could be some truth behind Riya’s words. I don’t believe that. But what’s the harm in trying? If I fall down, I have a safety net always. My hands felt sweaty and trembled as I picked up the card. And by the time, I the operator wanted to confirm the booking, I was ready to burst. So, I cut the call and closed my eyes again. Some other day we will do this for now I just want to dream. A second later, I felt my boyfriend’s hand hugging me again and I slept peacefully.