Julie lights the cigarette with the matchstick's fire fierce than the crooked motives of the wicked imposters. She never holds on the smoke but lets it slide like people who never holds on feelings. Her kind of shade is red, diverse in itself. She's defiant in rage, tender in love and malice in hatred.
"You shouldn't be smoking at this age. " I stated in antipathy to smoking for I onced heard Dad saying, " No one who really wants to live longer will smoke. " Julie laughed deciphering what I meant. She said, " Don't be so childish. I always have many more reasons to die than to live. "
"Whom will I live with if I live without you ? " I gazed in oblivion.
She turned her face away perhaps to hide what the eyes had displayed by then. "Our head is too smart yet every part of the body is too foolish." I stated.
Julie grabbed strength and parted her lips in dry trial, "So the parts grow endlessly, crossing edges, bulging over limits, not knowing where to stop before they shatter. "
"Does head know where to stop ?" I enquired. "Not really. Head doesn't know where to stop its imagination but it has known the limits of the actions it orders us." Julie clarified. "You're too wise for me." I stared in awe. Julie raised her eyebrows rolling up her eyes, denying my praise. "You're artistic. I'm realistic. We are two distinct sides of the same coin, intertwined and happy. " Julie smiled.
I suspended my breath in conflict, gripping courage when suddenly I heard a wrecked rhyme . A sound of a broken flower vase triggered my bones. I felt a fear howling through corridors of my ribs. With heavy downpours of rain outside, footsteps around the house mingled to engrave rhymes of thunder throughout the dining.
"Aura, hide in the basement in haste !" Julie directed. Before taking the pace, my pupils dilated in anxiety, "What about you ?" I asked. "I'll handle this. I assume there are four men." Julie clarified . "How can you be so certain ?" I enquired. "In the lawn , I have intentionally asked the gardener to dig small craters such that I can get the sound of footsteps whenever they step in stagnant water during the rain. There are sounds of heavy tread of men in the lawn. " "Shall I call for help now ?" I asked. "Do whatever you want. First reach the basement and wait for me. If I don't reach there within ten minutes , go to the panic room and inform the cops." Julie directed. "What do you mean by panic room ?" I asked in astonishment.
"Oh I've missed to inform you that Dad introduced me with a secret room in the basement, a month ago.It has a tunnel exit leading to the police station. In the basement, you'll find a bookshelf beside a dressing table. There's a book among 150 novels and poetry books named " The Auroras of Autumn" by Wallace Stevens in the bottom right corner. It has a key hidden in it. Take the key out and insert it in a peacock shaped lock beside the mirror. Be careful. There will be many more locks beside the mirror including an owl, a pigeon and a parrot lock. A wrong step can be very harmful for anyone. The mirror will slide open leading you to a room after you insert the key to the correct lock. " Julie instructed.
"No. I'm not going anywhere without you. " I refused in a stubborn tone. "Be quick. There's no time for me to bear your tantrums now." Julie clarified in disgust turning her spine to my wish. I abided by her and went down the stairs to the basement.
Curtains shivered as nights had crawled upto closets to hinder motions. Rain played chaotic rhymes of a mortal song. I gazed at burials of dark and prayed for chimes.
"Julie , I think this time it won't be a cakewalk to escape those abductors' reach." I stated. Julie laughed.
"Isn't it absurd for one to consider enemies as weak ? After all we are just teens." I smeared fear and doubt upon my words while watching Julie search for her Taurus Judge.
"What if Alexander Pope wouldn't have dared to write his first poem, 'Ode to Solitude' considering his age to be just 12 ?" Julie asked. She added, "Would he be this famous by now if he considered merely his age to be the hindrance behind his ability ?"
I stared in awe still the fright gripped my spines straight. " I have no ambiguity on your ability. It's just I'm greatly anxious . Writing a book is different than fighting alone with a group of imposters. " "Trust me on this, Aura. We will be fine. " Julie convinced. "Why don't you call for help ? This is too unrealistic to fight alone. We aren't characters of a Bollywood film. " I clarified. "Don't you remember everytime they give a feeble warning , one of ten is real and rest is a myth to baffle us ? " Julie asked with a mellow logic. She recalled, "The last time when we informed the cops and they were here , we faced no such trouble and the cops were highly disappointed for wasting their time. They would consider this as another prank been played. The last time those imposters were witty enough to ruin their trust on us. "
She loaded the gun and kept her finger off the trigger. Her firm eyebrows rested down her pixie hair longing for eyelashes to alarm an attack. In hymns of solemnity , her brown pupils were as dedicated as my father's. The ripped jeans and her spaghetti top blended the look of a rebel in her.
I was proficient in bringing drastic changes to solemn situations. I queried , " Julie, What of sin have I committed to not get peace anywhere in my life ? "
"Peace is just an illusion. An asymptomatic illusion. Do you think you can be satisfied with peace ? People can be satisfied with chaos. " Julie clarified.
"Whatever we get satisfied with is called peace ! " I exclaimed.
"No. Peace is a mirage. You have wanted to stay home in peace the day before. Now, you want to go out and meet your friends to get rid of your stress. People can't be satisfied with something forever. Satisfaction is build inside, else it happens but temporarily. "
She had adeptly analyzed my crave for meeting Alex in such a thrilled situation yet I shaped my stubborn castles responding, "Peace isn't a mirage. It's like the climate that changes but exists. "
"If it's like climate or changes, there's no point in its existence. If it burns in the summer, it freezes in cold. If it feels the spring, it must not love the rain. Peace should be constant. " Julie resonated.
"Peace is always constant in the way it is felt, but it exists in distinct forms. People too change, but they exist. " I added.
"Planning is never an execution. There's no 100% chance of an event in general. Normal distribution says it is about 28% for general standard deviation. Nobody is in peace. It is just an idealistic form of happiness." Julie determined.
"A result is always an illegal breed of a planned execution. If the event turns out to be unplanned, it is called love. " I blabbered scratching phrases of my romantic novels.
"Well, I'm not getting satisfaction now. I need to smoke." Julie laughed grabbing a cigarette from Dad's pack of fags in the drawer.
Alex's presence in my life was inevitable. I wanted to love him in a way the woman would want to live before an untimely death chokes her breath. Julie's query wasn't less than an utter nightmare for she owned a motherly temper. My lips parted in vague terror, " Yes. " I inhaled the part of the zephyr which seemed bold to me saying, "Yes. There's a boy named Alex in our class. Believe me, I bear no such feelings for him. It's only that I like his name. Don't you remember mom had a similar name ? "
Julie was bound to trust me on this for I rarely lied in a sentence where I mentioned mom so far. I cursed myself for this infidelty, querying myself in mind , "How far will I need to go for love ?" I buried the context with a fatigue sigh.
My room was opposite to Julie's though I usually spent half of my time in her place , quarter in the atelier and never returned to my bedroom unless I was sleepy. Julie's room was near the library inspite of the fact that she loved arms more than books. Dad had handed his own responsibility of protecting me on Julie at a very young age. I wondered how Dad could inspect Julie's shooting skills years back when she was only ten. Perhaps they both were mysterious human beings. Sometimes I gulped an ambiguity in a peristalsis wondering if Dad had an illegal child no one other than Julie.
I heard the dining room telephone ringing. Julie assumed, "It's time for Dad to call, isn't it ? " I jumped off from the sofa and ran down the stairs. "Hey Dad ! How have you been ? Are you taking food on time ?" I enquired in utter zeal not verifying if it was really a call from Dad. "Hello, Miss Aurora Bliss. Your voice sounds so sweet in such tensed enthusiasm. " A husky voice spoke in a creepy tone. Such weird words seemed familiar yet frightful. Many a times some men had tried to kidnap me since childhood which was not at all shocking, for Dad's job demanded such risks. The shocking part was in the way they had turned pervert before an year. With a fake confidence I answered, " Who's this creep speaking ? " "Perhaps I'm someone in need of you since years. " He resonated with a creepier base.
Julie reached to this event a bit later, for my pace in excitement was as swift as a rabbit hopping for carrots. The darkest horizons of my pupils amidst the innocent white deviated it's accustom and turned dormant. I stared at her , with bereft of words yet a plethora of statements in my pupils. She had assumed by then. "I guess there's the creepy man again .Let me handle this. " saying this she laid the hold of the telephone.
"Yes . Are you here with your feeble warnings again ? Listen we don't fear you. You are a putrid thing. " Julie mocked in conviction. " You are a manly shit. Buzz off and hand over the phone to Miss Aurora. " the man demanded in pride with a sexist remark.
"You are going to repent for this. " Julie smirked.
Six years hence I'm sixteen. Julie is fifteen and a half yet half more than what I am. She has mastered firing the Taurus Judge 410, Glock 19 and Sig Sauer P226. She has inherited skills of my father unlike me. Her socialising skills are awkward yet she has known people more. The way people cast mere reflections as a part, veiling themselves as a whole. I have seen her playing the role of a saviour many a times.
Swallowing a shallow charm of silhouettes, I wrote to conjure a bolt from the blue, stealing metaphors and blushing at ones that crave to last longer. Julie examined my state asking, " Aura ? Answer me something. What so far makes you blush often ?"
"I'm more into the love stories I write. " With a content sigh, I swallowed my broken smile.
" Someday they will make you believe in fiction too." Julie stated.
"Love isn't fictitious. I can love. I believe in love. " I protested in uncertainty.
"Yeah you will unless you face it. Someone's always there to make you believe it's fictitious in your first attempt, making it your last. " Julie paused with a fatigue breath.
"People turn sceptic with play of events. I will make you believe in it. Stop talking like old people first." I resolved.
"Old people are never wrong. The more self proclaimed lovers try to impress you, the more they shall depress you one day. Expecting someone to love you the way you have loved is like pouring the oozed out blood back to wound." Julie persuaded.
I refused with a negative nod turning my spine to her wit. While querying my own reality, I hid the petty words of romance between pleats of my skirt. Julie glanced in haste at a name in the drama. She spotted something intriguing in the pages.
"What's that Aura ? Show it to me. " Julie asked. "That's just one of those shits I write about love. Nothing much. You won't be interested." I clarified. "Let me see that . " Julie approached me with a firm act to snatch. "Hey don't try to be too bossy ! I'm your boss. Your stern boss ! Step back little girl." I satired in pride. "Boss my foot. Give that ! " Julie snatched the page from my defence.
She read, "Aura : Alex ? Can I create anything within myself and watch it grow ?
Alex : Yes you can create either an art or an ache and watch it grow within you.
Aura : How can people create an ache within oneself ?
Alex : One who creates an ache within oneself is same as the vagabond wolf who falls in love with the distant moon.
Aura : Do you mean buried love and echoed ones ?
Alex : Yes.
Aura : Alex ? What will you build if you have the power to create something beyond art ?
Alex : A world for us, within us.
Aura : Alex. "
Julie stared at me with almost every emotion on earth. She stepped nearer , "Isn't there a guy named Alex in our class ? "
The door creaked open with a pace less than mine. My temper lacked longevity. This time it bloomed pink in blue spring. The stern red along my chubby cheeks turned homely enough for Julie to rest her homeless bruises.
"Accustoms are chaotic orders. " I murmured grabbing visions.
"Hello Julie. Your state seems a pity thing and your attire, a facade. Solace never restrains me to speak the truth. Apologies ." I murked courtesy rudely as I not seldom had difficulty in appearing good.
"A facade ! Yes. A positive one. You are likely to overcast courtesy with stern clouds in your phrases, don't you ?" Julie smiled.
"Do you think your predictions are logical enough to impress me ? " I smirked.
"I'm not here to impress you. I'm here to make you learn what really an impression is. You are cordial but your hindrance is in the way of expressing it. " Julie clarified.
"Expression is a vast plain with fault as its margin. To be its prisoner is always not a choice but a play of events." I paused. She learned. I repeated, " I am named as Aurora Bliss as Dad has believed me to be the bliss of dawn until my mom dies for saving me. " "For saving you ? What do you mean ? " Julie enquired with a tensed voice and curious eyes. "I'm not accustomed to disclose details to a stranger." I answered veiling my tears.
Meanwhile Dad interrupted watching our conversation digging past. "Julie ! Aren't you hungry ? First dress yourself in a clean attire I have already bought for you and check into your new room near the library. Aurora will show you the way. "
I stood with doubtful eyes facing Dad, "When have you arranged all of it ? "
"It's when you have been painting for six hours in the atelier last day." There was a chortle in the room for Dad considered his deed as a savage blow and tried to look as wise as Holmes .
"Huh ! You haven't ever worked so hard even for my birthday last year. Don't you remember ? You almost have returned from work after a day. " I complained.
" Work load honey ! " He laughed . Julie laughed more but veiled it instantly . "Congrats ! You have a partner by now to laugh with while parodying me . Argh !" I grumbled. "I'm bound to show you the room. Come . " I gestured Julie towards her room. She clutched my hand, "What were you saying before about the mishap ? " I smiled, "You are yet to face a lot of facades. " Silence prevailed. Suspicion followed.
-to be continued.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------- to read all parts click on #thirdfloor
I recalled the instance I had asked Dad to bring a Mom the day before. His vision held me in tears, mine in oblique fears. I did bite my nails and peep through curtains longing for his return. Every dark hour of his absence was a nightmare scratching bare walls to reach me. Dad had a weird response to everything. Julie was one of such response and an utter disappointment to me. At that instance, my reactions were a rocket science. More than being bewildered, I had to determine whether to be sympathetic to Julie or furious on Dad. Henceforth, I retched out mere rage on both.
"You can't be the substitute of a mother. You are a fool to sell yourself. You are an orphan notwithstanding you still has a mother. People like you can die for money." I screamed at her in disgust and shoved my flames on Dad, "You never understood me Dad ! I wanted a Mom not a maid. How would a girl of my age be so proficient in raising me ? I just wanted someone to love me as mom would if she was alive. "
Dad had replied with a persuading tone, " Aurora , listen girl, to bring you a mother I needed to marry again which for me was a suffocation . After Alexa's death, it was difficult for me to handle myself still I tried my best merely for your well being. " Silence followed as he gulped a glass of water that didn't seem less than a relief. He urged further, "Julie is a matured child. Perhaps more mature than you are . Do you know why ?"
By the time, I realised my impression was at stake before an outsider. I clutched his hand and brought him to a room adjacent to the dining. He giggled and explained, " You have never faced the struggle she has gone through right since her birth. Poverty is a prison to desires and a disease to dreams of the ones with no shed. She has never been raised in the way you have been. She has four more siblings and being the eldest , she has taken care of all . I guess you believe by now, how proficient she can be in her job. Be kind to her. She will be your company in my absence. "
Dad hugged me saying , " Losing one of your parents is pathetic. Losing both of them in their presence is a tragedy."
- to be continued
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------- to read all parts click on #thirdfloor
Somedays I poke my heart veiling a will to inspect if it's still beating. It sounds like a clock that bounds my life with mere time. I raise my finger before my nostrils and wonder if my breath is lively. It feels like a forbidden breeze, barely recalled. I forage for a pillar to grab an insight to trust least on visages.
My days are mostly like the surreal oasis on pretext of a rust. I love thrusting myself against the wall when people asks me for a fight. When I walk on such a verse I often stumble on an untimely twist. A twist I never pray for.
Julie is our housemaid by profession. To me, she's more than my family. There are people with paralyzed minds, I own a paralyzed life. Dad stays abroad etching an obvious concern in me. I have never seen Mom except in photographs. The only one I have to talk with, is Julie. I remember the first day of her service as a housemaid. Never have I ever loathed someone more than her on the first day of her arrival. I laugh while recalling it.
I had seen Dad carrying a girl in his arms six years back. A girl in a tattered frock, of an age as vulnerable as mine, was raising her worn out hands to greet me as he approached. I stood with a rivolting grace to escape her pace , tugging my doll towards the margin of my envy's reach. The first doubt I baked in mind was, " Is dad bringing a more loving daughter than me ? " The second was , " Will I have to share my part of his affection with this brat ? "
Like most other aristocrat kids, I had a similar prejudice towards anything that looked badly off, from a severely small age. My Dad made her sit on his furnished chair with enough affection to trigger my jealousy. I stared at her worn out skin and smirked while smearing pride upon my spotless hands. She stared at me with a sheepish smile. Meanwhile Dad resonated , "Look whom I did bring here for you . " I glanced at him with a perplexed art. The beggarly kid utters, "I will be helping you with everything from now on. Julie Lane is my name. I have been a cobbler's daughter since birth. My father has died last month and my mom can never have enough money to raise me. So I am here to work for you, help you and raise you. "
- Moitreyee Bhaduri
- to be continued
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------- to read all parts click on #thirdfloor
I wake up to earn a shaft. The curtains seldom preserve a space but they are unusual today to look so still, abiding their duty sternly with a bitter obedience, restraining distractions. Sometimes imperfections are habits and when things turn too perfect , we feel less homely. Unleashing strength from the shaft, I stare at curtains and doubt their perfection. Every morn has something different to teach yet it's similar in it's way of being a teacher. Today teaching is a philosophy we have learnt but never seen as authentic.
There isn't a part of me not familiar with the zephyr. A fact about wind is that its pretence is a part of acting genuinely. They betray only when you are too foolish to trust its pace. We can brag a lot about being human but there are least evidences in our lives to testify it.
I am aware of myself. I am aware of what aesthetic pretence is when there's no one to rely on. I clutch layers of the walls to appear strong. It's stupid of me to think that by holding a non living stanchion, I will be known as strong. It's not that we intend to retch out in a crowd, sometimes it's out of long term patience that has made us suppress a grief for too long.
I'm bad at metaphors, at the metaphors that aren't a part of mine. So I pluck an eyelash to define how fragile is an opinion. It separates people, fills hatred, yet it's not a constant thing. Isn't it so funny how opinions change but grudges spitted by them don't ? Yeah, that's how spectrum looks like. We will own a single opinion which can split into seven shades of a grudge, chaos, support, sarcasm, smirk , hatred and disgust. Everytime your opinion brings you a support, it will bring you six more disasters. I'm not talking about supressing your opinion. I am talking about expressing it wisely through a dimension rather than a prism.
a soul normally weighs 21gms but yours weighs more than that, for it puts weight in my empty soul. it makes me more human since now i feel things which in earlier time i didnt. ive always been like a fallen leaf blowing in open air without a cause or concern for anything, just moving along with time but now i sense the dormant bird inside me waking up alive and roaring to fly according to my will and it seems to have an insatiable hunger for the high skies.
ive felt every emotion there is beside you, ive laughed with you, felt sad in your absense, cried for you, felt happy to be alive alongside you and the smiles just keep flying around in your beautiful presence. but ive felt the happy things in abundance as you never left my side willingly. "some people have the power to wake up the human inside you". yes, you have an immeasurable amount of that power. you've given me a new life, you found a person in me, who was unknown even to me. a very calm, happy person which i thought I'd never see.
Presents were stacked up, wrapped in glittery covers, against the pastel blue walls of my freshly painted room; pastries were decorated on the round teak table, along with precious crockery of china and porcelain; people were buzzing and giggling.
Though, an inconsistently intoned humming was all that could be heard and chaos was utterly visible, happiness resonated throughout the place; it was the moment that one dreams of day and night, when they demand nothing less and nothing more but embrace what has been bestowed upon them.
In those couple of hours, I believed paradise to be that place filled up with presents, pastries and people, but then sounded the knell for the euphoria when midnight struck in grandpa's olden, heavy timekeeper.
As the ding-dong echoed, it hushed all the voices in every corner of the room. One by one, everyone crossed the threshold and I constantly urged them to stay but their defiance ignored my presence; I was fading.
Not so long ago, I sat on the helm of happiness, and then in a snap, I didn't exist.
Crumbs of cake were scattered aloof on the table, the tattered gift-wrapping papers were lying all across the floor and the presents held no excitement anymore; footsteps were imprinted on the marble tiles and the ticking of the clock was all that could be heard.
I felt betrayed, because I was promised happiness and acceptance but for a short while.
I find myself standing on the middle ground when I argue if it's the fickleness or warmth of the heart when people gather around and celebrate pompously that you were born, but no one seems to be concerned about how you live.
A day you're loved and sought out, but other days you're abandoned with your aloofness.
It was my mischief to have forgotten how fortune is like sand in a closed fist and every attempt to clasp onto it harder, spills it out more. You can never get hold of it.
It fetched me with the knowledge that peering for peace in people would always be in vain.
I resolved to not let "my special day" envelope me in a sugary facade next year, for people become forgotten faces, and the frenzy becomes dormant; you fade away into the everlasting humdrum.
Whether you live or you die or you live dying, not a soul cares until the day dawns again.
Ugly truths are shed light upon, love becomes a mongrel abomination, and you slowly disappear into nothingness, when the birthday ends.
Copyright 2020| It's Okay To Be Not Okay. Korean Drama.
A drama portraying world from mental health issues patients. A story of An Antisocial Personality Disorder Fierce and Strong Children Fantasy Book Writer Female Lead and Stoic and handling everything keeping smile with hell lot of pent up emotions inside Male Lead. Both dealing with past traumas in their own ways. A compelling stories of side characters seeing world from their point of view through animations and imaginary world. I am really applauding for writers and director for compelling and truthful to core screenplay.
8:00 pm The sky looks so empty today and I want to fill it with everything that I have and that is when I realize, I have nothing. I have lost fragments of myself in my memories, in my past. So I dive into the voids in my soul to find something meaningful unlike emptiness even though emptiness does have a lot of meaning but I'll leave that topic for another prose this way I'll know that I have to write again.
I woke at 5am today and while I was sipping a bitter coffee, events of last night hit me. Maybe the coffee wasn't bitter but I was so wasted, so hungover. Last night was crazy, I cried a lot and maybe tears are what I am high on but I can't say because it can be pain too and who am I kidding, it can be love. I have been running after things that aren't mine for too long but it's with time that I'll realize I need to stop and embrace what is written for me. I could have choked myself on misery but then I looked around me. I saw people laying, their masks off while they snore in shame. Last night was crazy because the facades were down. Being real is too dangerous but guess it wasn't me alone so I inhaled the rest of my coffee.
8:10 pm I am writing a letter now adressed to no one yet but if I could I'd send it to God. Do you think every person is gifted a particular amount of words? If so I have given alot of them away. Generous you can think but words are something more special and sacred than love or money; you need to spend them with brains and a little bit of heart. But in my case I might have let the heart overrule and that is why I sit here staring at the sky with nothing to talk to, with nothing to give.
People tell us to move on and leave the past behind but let me give you a behind the scene, they themselves are drenched in regrets and are stuck in a grubby phase of their past but somehow telling others to move on gives them a false state of content, more like habromania that they are doing okay.
I read somewhere happiness is an inside job. Yes people can make you happy but when someone makes you happy, they also make you an addict of relying on them for happiness. You gift them a part of yourself that they might not acknowledge. People make you vulnerable.
All this time I have been planning my perfect get away from the dark but only now did I realize, change is not sudden. Darkness decays slowly and when it does, light is not promised right away.
I took a step t̶o̶w̶a̶r̶d̶s̶ away from the monster that haunts me. Maybe the devils weren't following me, I was running towards them because pain is something I know but what is there except pain? I was scared of the uncertainty.
I have changed and it wasn't over night. It took me a heartache, certain loses, whole lot of pain and acceptance of my lost pieces.
The sky is empty and so am I but I am content and so is the sky.