Monthly Archives: May 2011

Hello darkness, my old friend.

Inky Ink Time. The very Higgins Clark inspired JHughes challenges me to indulge in my morbid here goes. As usual prompt follows post.

“Stupid, Stupid Bird!” I throw the pillow at the music-box I use as an alarm..the pillow bumped the side of the box, pushing it down..the lady in the ballet dress was shocked and expressed it by spinning faster..faster..louder…louder

The loud boom rattled the glasses and the little glass of wine whimpered as a scarlet shade of lightning tore another heavy cloud apart. The lights flickered. Groaning, I got up to look for my candles and matches. I wans’t especially eager to spend this evening alone, espeically after that wierd, diastrous date. I hadn’t even got out of my evening dress, and the crumpled maroon skirt kept catching my foot as I tried to reach for the lights.

I had always taken refuge in my closet, it seemed comforting, and familiar. I stifled a scream as a furry sensation passed up my leg. The shadow outside the door and the gentle humming seemed to be coming closer. I grabbed a spare pillow for defence and on second thought removed my inch and a half spiky shoes from its prime position. The humming came closer as I stepped deeper into the closet.

“Oh! Crap!! There they go” talking to myself I lit the candles and placed them around the room. It looked as if I was going to get proposed to or was going to hail spirits using an ouija board. I moved a few candles to the window, when I first felt the cold, damp draft and saw the shadow sprinting. “The candles must be playing with my mind” I went around to arrange a few more and grab my glass of wine, when I heard the door slam upstairs. I dropped the glass, spilling the wine as my mind started shutting down and my voice caught in my throat. Grabbing the torch, I started up, when the skirt caught in my foot again, tripping me. My hands clammy, my throat parched and my temple throbbing, I make my way upstairs and into my bedroom. I see the shadow again and hear the slow humming of a Simon Garfunkel song..I shut the closet door gently from inside and hold my breath.

It was a bright and sunny day after a dark and stormy night, and the scent of murder was in the air…The heels lay on the carpeted stairs, the bloody stains from the spikes had seeped through the carpet and dried matting the fiber. The humming of the song in a different pitch was carried by the zephyr through the open window as the maroon skirt swished and sashayed over the delicate ankle. The music box still singing its tilting melody was shut, as I tripped yet again as I stepped over and walked down the stairs

The prompt was “It was a bright and sunny day after a dark and stormy night, and the scent of murder was in the air…” I kind of used Jhughes last post about the Caged Bird Sings and flipped it around.


The pain of immortality

Tara R challenged me as part of the Indie Ink challenge this week. The challenge details follow the reply.

Would I not change the feeling of thinking that we were all immortal beings or would I change the heady rush of the cornucopia of emotions that came when we realized immortality was but a hypnotic state that we would wake up from. It is not that I hadn’t seen death knock on doors or have seen him in a rush to finish his job that he often couldn’t wait for people to bide their time. It was just that in that moment in time, in a new school, with new people, with the list of possibilities and dreams seemingly endless..immortality seemed to offer more choices and a better vision. It is a hard thing to take in one week into school…having a friend who you saw the Friday before driving off, being declared dead due to drowning the Monday next. The wind rushes in. You wave to your father dropping you off, you run to see a friend who goes to another school, you stop, you see them all red-eyed and life becomes eerily silent. The sequence of events after that chilling confession, is painfully alive. For every high school story I think, I also live through the reactions and the high emotions that day which act as a painful bitter, bitter crumbled foundation. There was a single moment when I was sitting, engulfed in my own emotions that I wanted to turn every minute, every star and moon to the day when immortality was still within reaching distance..and where the dead would come back to life. Reality, I sincerely feel, should be anathema for 16 year olds.

Living my life now as a jaded, memory bearer, knowing more and having lived more…would I change that time, that day and that part of my life. I don’t think so. It has made me who I defines my ideas and my being. I like this person that I am now. I will not have it any other way..thank you very much.

My challenge was this “Tomorrow morning you wake up and are 16 again, on your worst day in high school. If you knew then what you know now, how would you change that day… or would you change it?”

Keep walking till you reach Chamindra’s reply to my challenge. Awesome work..I think.