Empty pages- Episode 4
So it has been 4 weeks into this project. Quick thank you to everyone who has been patient with me, read every post till now, given me prompts to work on and given me feedback. Congratulations! You have now created a monster- who doesn't want to stop this project with this episode. If you feel I should though, let me know.
#20: Reinforced
Not the peaceful tranquil silence.
The eerie, disturbing silence.
The silence that made you feel things.
She looked at her surroundings, trying to find something familiar.
She took a minute to mop up all the emotions overflowing inside her.
Everything had been normal twelve hours back.
It seemed so far away now.
It seemed like an alternate reality.
Maybe this was a nightmare.
She would wake up and find everything around her normal.
This did not happen.
She looked around once again. No. This was real.
It wouldn't sink in for years to come.
Somebody offered her food.
Somebody asked her if she was okay.
How would she know if she was okay?
What if she was never going to be okay?
She was numb. She couldn't even feel anything.
She only knew it didn't seem real.
She thought of her family.
Of everything she had lost in the last 12 hours.
She had to start over. Alone.
She suddenly realised she might be alone for the rest of her life.
She didn't know if she could do anything anymore.
Thoughts flew randomly in her head.
Was this her fault? Could she have changed something?
She was angry with herself. Angry with God.
The anger would consume her.
She began to hate herself. Hate others.
Slowly she spiralled.
Deep deep down. It was a free fall.
Nothing made her happy anymore.
It would take her months to heal.
Maybe heal isn't the best word for it.
She rebuilt herself. Reinforced.
Nothing would hurt her like this again.
She wouldn't let her world explode like this again.
She had accepted that life would never ever be the same.
She just wasn't willing to reassemble herself. Again.
#21: Saturday
It was a hot Saturday summer afternoon.He was dripping with sweat.All he wanted to do was sleep. He walked over to the window to close the curtains. On any other day, he'd have ignored what he saw. Today he was drawn to what he saw.
The trees with their green leaves fluttering.The light glinting off the leaves, was there a word for it? The sound of birds. The Koel stood out. Sharp and clear. Its voice piercing the Saturday afternoon.
Most vivid amongst the memories of his home town was sitting outside in the noons, plucking mangoes, drinking coconut water. The garden would be humming with the energy of insects and birds. The colours of the flowers that would finally blossom after looking comatose for months. Just thinking about it made him miss it more.
The food his mother and grandmother would prepare in the vacations. Stealing the said summer soul food. The holiday homework he'd neatly stash away to be found only the day before school reopened. The rush before the reopening day to finish it in one go.
Pouring cold water all over the house because that was possibly the only thing they could do to bring the temperature down. The mandatory power outage so you'd be grateful for the hot air the fans circulated when it got back on.
The old kerosene lamp with the glass top. Those stupid insects which would get too close to the flame and die. It always amused him that they could see their dead clan and still chose the same fate.
He had always considered humans wiser. Now he wasn't too sure. He didn't have answers to all the questions in his head.But he knew the one person who had the answers to all his questions.
The trees with their green leaves fluttering.The light glinting off the leaves, was there a word for it? The sound of birds. The Koel stood out. Sharp and clear. Its voice piercing the Saturday afternoon.
Most vivid amongst the memories of his home town was sitting outside in the noons, plucking mangoes, drinking coconut water. The garden would be humming with the energy of insects and birds. The colours of the flowers that would finally blossom after looking comatose for months. Just thinking about it made him miss it more.
The food his mother and grandmother would prepare in the vacations. Stealing the said summer soul food. The holiday homework he'd neatly stash away to be found only the day before school reopened. The rush before the reopening day to finish it in one go.
Pouring cold water all over the house because that was possibly the only thing they could do to bring the temperature down. The mandatory power outage so you'd be grateful for the hot air the fans circulated when it got back on.
The old kerosene lamp with the glass top. Those stupid insects which would get too close to the flame and die. It always amused him that they could see their dead clan and still chose the same fate.
He had always considered humans wiser. Now he wasn't too sure. He didn't have answers to all the questions in his head.But he knew the one person who had the answers to all his questions.
#22: Mastery
(The world looks more beautiful through his eyes. He makes you feel things you haven't felt but wish you could feel. He writes stories that you wish had been yours. He shows you a world, you have never been a part of but always will be a part of yours. You want to thank him for all the magical moments he has given you. Even when you are miles away at a place like Kashid on your birthday, you look at the beautiful scenery and think - if he was here to see this, it would have been a stunning part of a masterpiece. Your hometown reminds you of blips of his worlds when you travel. Your life will always have a background score borrowed from his worlds. All you want to say, is thank you; two words are never enough to say everything you feel.)
He needed a plan. He needed all the details. He needed to have a vision. He needed all the facts. He had everything except he wouldn't begin. He could have been a legend. If only he had chosen to act. He chose to be paralysed by preparation.
She was less held up by "needs". She worked with a flow. She had an idea, she knew what was needed of her, and willing to keep inching ahead till she reached somewhere. She had no idea exactly where, she figured she'd know when she was done.
He couldn't understand how she had mastered her trade. She didn't even have a plan or the facts. He saw his plan as a foolproof way to succeed. He should have been more successful, he thought. She couldn't care less. She loved her job, it kept her alive. It made her want to wake up and get to work.
For years he couldn't understand her gameplan. Logically every move he had made had been right. Yet she was the one, living the life he wanted to live. He strived for perfection. She attained perfection, but wasn't even aiming for it.
When he finally did ask her, she laughed.She left him a handwritten note which read-
She was less held up by "needs". She worked with a flow. She had an idea, she knew what was needed of her, and willing to keep inching ahead till she reached somewhere. She had no idea exactly where, she figured she'd know when she was done.
He couldn't understand how she had mastered her trade. She didn't even have a plan or the facts. He saw his plan as a foolproof way to succeed. He should have been more successful, he thought. She couldn't care less. She loved her job, it kept her alive. It made her want to wake up and get to work.
For years he couldn't understand her gameplan. Logically every move he had made had been right. Yet she was the one, living the life he wanted to live. He strived for perfection. She attained perfection, but wasn't even aiming for it.
When he finally did ask her, she laughed.She left him a handwritten note which read-
A wise man once said, "It’s all abstract till you reach the end point, but you’ve to go on chiseling. The best thing about art is that nothing is perfect."
#23: Flush
She alighted the cab expecting a prettier sight. Her house stood there, intact but toxic, The floods hadn't been kind to anyone, but seemed to have avoided her house more out of contempt.She turned the key knowing, it was only going to get worse.Her house looked like a bride in its white veil.
Her heart started sinking, there was no way she was going to clean it all up.She had to. This house was all she had.
It was the home of her family, her childhood, her memories and her dreams.
No matter how far away she moved, her dreams always brought her back.
She marched on to get supplies and in a week, she managed to disrobe the house of its white cloak.
Which is when she settled down to organise her house. Very few things gave her as much satisfaction as organising her stuff.Under one of the many piles, were her family's photo albums.
Her parents had made it a point to capture most of their kids lives on film.
Looking back she couldn't believe it was her in those pictures.
She also couldn't believe they had told her to lose weight in her teens, she was skinny,damn it. She could have spared herself so much trauma if she'd seen herself in the mirror back then with her present wisdom.The old photos made her conscious of her age, of how much time had passed - and of what an interesting life she'd had.
Happy times.Moments with her family she would cherish.The not so happy times, when they had had to live without so many things that people just took for granted. Looking back though, it seemed happy too. They had been together at least. In retrospect , these were the times that made her feel proud of how far she had come despite everything.The satisfaction of having tried, when everyone was sure she couldn't.
It began to rain again. Today the raindrops had tears for company.
Her heart started sinking, there was no way she was going to clean it all up.She had to. This house was all she had.
It was the home of her family, her childhood, her memories and her dreams.
No matter how far away she moved, her dreams always brought her back.
She marched on to get supplies and in a week, she managed to disrobe the house of its white cloak.
Which is when she settled down to organise her house. Very few things gave her as much satisfaction as organising her stuff.Under one of the many piles, were her family's photo albums.
Her parents had made it a point to capture most of their kids lives on film.
Looking back she couldn't believe it was her in those pictures.
She also couldn't believe they had told her to lose weight in her teens, she was skinny,damn it. She could have spared herself so much trauma if she'd seen herself in the mirror back then with her present wisdom.The old photos made her conscious of her age, of how much time had passed - and of what an interesting life she'd had.
Happy times.Moments with her family she would cherish.The not so happy times, when they had had to live without so many things that people just took for granted. Looking back though, it seemed happy too. They had been together at least. In retrospect , these were the times that made her feel proud of how far she had come despite everything.The satisfaction of having tried, when everyone was sure she couldn't.
It began to rain again. Today the raindrops had tears for company.
#24: The Quiet one
"You were always the quiet one."
They sat there wondering how she had become the person she was at present.
She had always been the quiet, behind the scenes type of person. She hardly spoke unless spoken to.
The girl sitting in front of them sipping coffee had literally nothing in common with the girl they knew. She was confident, outspoken and said NO with great ease. She wasn't hesitant about cutting drama, things and people out of her life. This couldn't have been that girl.
After all the traumatic years of her life that was called high school, she had met her real friends only much later. These were the guys she had literally never spoken to. Maybe she said happy birthday once. Never had there been conversation. Till the whole class drifted apart and everyone wanted to "stay in touch" via Facebook.
Years later she would regret this. If she had known how these guys would have shaped her life, been pillars of support when she fell, kept her grounded, maybe she'd have said hi sooner. Maybe. Then again maybe not, her anxiety stopped her from talking to /meeting people. Till she realised the only way to destroy anxiety, was by doing the opposite of what the panicky voice in her head said.
They sat there wondering how she had become the person she was at present.
She had always been the quiet, behind the scenes type of person. She hardly spoke unless spoken to.
The girl sitting in front of them sipping coffee had literally nothing in common with the girl they knew. She was confident, outspoken and said NO with great ease. She wasn't hesitant about cutting drama, things and people out of her life. This couldn't have been that girl.
After all the traumatic years of her life that was called high school, she had met her real friends only much later. These were the guys she had literally never spoken to. Maybe she said happy birthday once. Never had there been conversation. Till the whole class drifted apart and everyone wanted to "stay in touch" via Facebook.
Years later she would regret this. If she had known how these guys would have shaped her life, been pillars of support when she fell, kept her grounded, maybe she'd have said hi sooner. Maybe. Then again maybe not, her anxiety stopped her from talking to /meeting people. Till she realised the only way to destroy anxiety, was by doing the opposite of what the panicky voice in her head said.
#25: Grubby
Grubby. Dusty. Faded.
It looked brown which wasn't its original colour in all probability.
To the passers by it looked like something that either needed to be washed or burnt.
But to the little girl of five, with waist length hair, lively beady black eyes, bare feet and a faded pink dress- it was none of those.She stood outside her father's shop, watching the vehicles zoom past on the adjacent road.
To her Grubby was none of those. Grubby was her only friend. He didn't have an eye but was the most sympathetic listener. She took him wherever she went as she couldn't risk losing him. He was all she had.
It looked brown which wasn't its original colour in all probability.
To the passers by it looked like something that either needed to be washed or burnt.
But to the little girl of five, with waist length hair, lively beady black eyes, bare feet and a faded pink dress- it was none of those.She stood outside her father's shop, watching the vehicles zoom past on the adjacent road.
To her Grubby was none of those. Grubby was her only friend. He didn't have an eye but was the most sympathetic listener. She took him wherever she went as she couldn't risk losing him. He was all she had.
#26: Frost
His voice had never sounded so cold. It was like a bucket of icy needles. Every word pierced her and burnt her. Every thought of his had crystallised into a perfect sentence. His words were crisp, frosty and well chosen. They froze every other emotion that had ever existed between them.
She knew he was angry, she knew this time she had gone too far. Yet she was only used to hearing his hot angry words. The rapid words that meant nothing later. The words that would be flung and would melt by the night. She tried to pacify him.Every time she had lied, she had managed to get away with it. It would work one more time. Or so she thought.
That night, their frostbitten relationship died a premature death.
She knew he was angry, she knew this time she had gone too far. Yet she was only used to hearing his hot angry words. The rapid words that meant nothing later. The words that would be flung and would melt by the night. She tried to pacify him.Every time she had lied, she had managed to get away with it. It would work one more time. Or so she thought.
That night, their frostbitten relationship died a premature death.
#27: Fizz
She felt nothing. She no longer felt like she was failing at life. Mainly because she no longer felt anything. She was like a stone dropped into the ocean, sinking faster every second. Then she hit the floor.
This was it. This was as low as it could get. She felt disgusted with herself. How did she let her life reach this point.All the opportunities she had squandered. All the times she could have said no but didn't. All the decisions she didn't have the guts to make. It all had come back to bite her in the ass.
She didn't know what lay ahead. Or behind. The feeling of failure suffocated her. It was strangely comforting though. She could now be that person people would point to and say -Don't be like her. She was that person.
Except she didn't want to be that person.
She had to ask for help. She felt ashamed asking, it wasn't the first time, in all probability it wasn't the last.
Why did these people even talk to her?
Would they think she was whiny? But she couldn't do it alone.
After hours of back and forth she finally reached out to people she thought would help. A few hours, messages, emails and videos later, she felt the gloom melt. She felt herself bubble towards the surface.
This was it. This was as low as it could get. She felt disgusted with herself. How did she let her life reach this point.All the opportunities she had squandered. All the times she could have said no but didn't. All the decisions she didn't have the guts to make. It all had come back to bite her in the ass.
She didn't know what lay ahead. Or behind. The feeling of failure suffocated her. It was strangely comforting though. She could now be that person people would point to and say -Don't be like her. She was that person.
Except she didn't want to be that person.
She had to ask for help. She felt ashamed asking, it wasn't the first time, in all probability it wasn't the last.
Why did these people even talk to her?
Would they think she was whiny? But she couldn't do it alone.
After hours of back and forth she finally reached out to people she thought would help. A few hours, messages, emails and videos later, she felt the gloom melt. She felt herself bubble towards the surface.
#28: Smoke
"I hate the smell of cigarettes. Cheee!!"
"I hate people who smoke. I just hate them."
The guy across was silently puffing away.
She took a deep breath and listened quietly as the girls next to her were discussing cigarettes fervently.
Nobody noticed that she hadn't said anything.
She hadn't expressed her hatred for cigarettes and their minions.
Not that she liked them, smoked them or approved of them. She used to nag her friends to quit till they eventually did.
It was just that cigarettes tied into her life differently than others.
To her it brought fond memories of her childhood. The men who had meant everything to her, he father and grandfather both had been chainsmokers.
It probably killed them too.
Every time she smelt a cigarette she couldn't help but feel comforted. Like they were still around. She felt safe.
"I hate people who smoke. I just hate them."
The guy across was silently puffing away.
She took a deep breath and listened quietly as the girls next to her were discussing cigarettes fervently.
Nobody noticed that she hadn't said anything.
She hadn't expressed her hatred for cigarettes and their minions.
Not that she liked them, smoked them or approved of them. She used to nag her friends to quit till they eventually did.
It was just that cigarettes tied into her life differently than others.
To her it brought fond memories of her childhood. The men who had meant everything to her, he father and grandfather both had been chainsmokers.
It probably killed them too.
Every time she smelt a cigarette she couldn't help but feel comforted. Like they were still around. She felt safe.
Comments
"Flush" was great, but oddly titled.
"Reinforced" left me bit dissatisfied. You up the sense of urgency with "last 12 hours" and then end it with a rather generic sounding admonition/toughening-up montage.
The last line of "Fizz" felt forced and out of place. You could've left it like "Flush". Then it would be another eccentrically titled great short story.
Great job, overall.