Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Inking our magic

12/02/1998

Dear N,

I can hear the raindrops hitting against my window. I sense an anger in their relentless patter, a frustration being released. An outlet for he, she or it above. I feel trapped inside this house. My negative thoughts loom at large and corner me in the dark. I feel far away from everyone and everything. I need a change of scenery N. Wish you were near. How are things at your end? Is the city treating you well? I am jealous of all those people who would enjoy the pleasures of your delicate touch and your genuine smile. To me, here, everyone seems too fake.
I find myself missing the sound of your laughter that lit up my dark moments. Tell me how you feel, N. Let these letters write our lives apart, together. I know the letter is short, but you have always read between the lines.
Smile N. For me.
Thinking of you fondly,
S.


Eight days later.

20/02/1998

Dear S,
I received your heartfelt letter today. I needed it. Your voice rings in my ears as I read the words you wrote. I miss our weekly outings. This separation from all things you is not very good for me. I imagine how you must look now. I picture that smile your face adorned. I crave that love which was visible in your eyes. The love that you never needed to put into words. I sniffed your letter today. It didn't really smell of you, but.
Everything seems so distant and cold here. I meet people, yet I am never present in their company. Work is painfully slow. Your letters take me to a place far away from the mundane.

Wishing you were here,
N

Fifteen days later.


07/03/1998

Dear N,
I wait for your letters eagerly. I know I can always tell you what's on my mind. I slept with someone, N. I needed to feel comforted by a man's touch. I needed to feel less like an outsider. It was just a one-night stand you know. But I feel worse after it. As always, I know you will understand. You will never judge. I remember when I told you about my first 'escapade'. We were lying on your bed at home. You fell off laughing. Idiot. Sometimes, I wake up and I can hear your laughter.
Turning 25 is not suiting my parents very well. They are looking for a man for me to marry. How will I ever tell them that I am not interested. Marriage seems like a bond I can never uphold. It seems like the farce can't be taken so far.
My work, too, seems snail paced. I am either at work or holed up reading. I think life is passing me by N. I think I am watching my own life flash before me. I found a picture of you in those tiny hot pants of yours. Yes, those that you never liked getting out of. I miss the addictive smell of cigarettes around you.
I miss you, N. Everyday.
Come visit me here soon,
S


Six days later, Nina sat in her living room with a letter in her hand. She had tears in her eyes. She called her office to take emergency leave for ten days. She made up her mind to go visit Sandhya. She decided it would be a surprise. She would just land at her doorstep she thought. She went to bed smiling that night. She would be seeing her dear friend Ssandhya in two days.

Two days later, she rang the bell of Sandhya's house at 8 in the morning. A voice bellowed back at her, "Who is it? Are you worth waking up at this ungodly hour?" Nina did not respond and silently chuckled to herself. The door opens and there Sandhya stood in a skimpy nightgown, frowning. But the frown changed into a look of surprise as she said, "What kind of weird dream is this?" Sandhya screamed. Nina inched closer to her and hugged her for what seemed like forever. Five minutes later, Nina replied, "So I can't want to see my angel huh?"

                                             --------------------

For the next five days, Nina and Sandhya spoke, laughed, relaxed, ate, drank and fell deeper in love with the other. The dependency was always what brought them back to the other. Their relationship had always been more than just friendship. They both always knew. It had been unsaid but understood. On their last night together Sandhya said to Nina, "Maybe we move to the same city and live together? I think it's time. I am not afraid to admit it now."
Nina smiled. In response she leaned in and gave Sandhya a kiss. The timing was right. The moment was set. Right there on the floor of Sandhya's room in a corner of the world, Sandhya and Nina sealed their love with a kiss.

Long after Sandhya went to bed, Nina sneaked out of bed to make an entry in her diary that night. She wrote...

20/03/1998

Dear N,
"I kissed your lips and held your hands. Shared your dreams and shared your pain. I've been addicted to you."
Why should our love story be any different from every other love story.
Love,
N

Nina switched off the night lamp and crawled under the sheets. The raindrops played a soothing background music. Nina slept holding Sandhya and the rainy night suddenly felt warm. She was soaked in the warmth of their love, after all.

Monday, September 19, 2011

50 word fiction

Resistance

It was a cold winter's night. I reached over to check the time. The time seemed right; right to end my life. I stood on my balcony ready to jump. Just as I climbed over the grill, I heard her voice. 'Stop,' she said. I did just that. For now.

Strengths

Her eyes welled up. 'It's a girl,' she told me. I walked in to hold her. 'She has your eyes,' I said as I gave the baby back to her. "You don't need him child. We'l be fine,' I said. She broke down one last time. For ever more, she put her brave face on.

Indignant

He stood there. Sorry knelt there, eyes filled with love. 'Will you marry me?' he asked. She wanted to. She would love to. But she couldn't. She opened her mouth to respond. But he knew the answer from her expression. He didn't need to hear it. He didn't need to know why.

Transition

I needed to keep moving. Change was indeed my constant. Six years, five cities and I don't know why I move. However, it's time to move again. New beginnings excite me. Yet, I fail to find what I am looking for. Will I ever find it? Too early to know.




Note: This exercise was a fun one to help me get back to writing fiction. Writing short stories like this is supposed to help break the writer's block.