A Court's Maim

کبھی نہیں | Never

Chapter 30.
Epilogue.
➖➖➖➖➖
Twenty Years Later.
• Arash Aliyaar
— meaning Hero in Persian
— twenty years old.
• Abbas Aliyaar
— meaning Lion in Arabic
— eighteen years old.
• Azur Aliyaar
— meaning Blue in Persian
— eighteen years old.
• Larmina Aliyaar
— meaning Blue sky in Persian
— five years old.

Buzzing capillaries, filled with a gushing flow of adrenaline and sanguine abundance of warmth, danced beneath the visions. Their vicarious inhibitions, experienced through the drumming sunlight that cast it's fair share of shadows over the tall building, where not to be underplayed. Strokes of crème matched the underlinings of the carnelian red of the Sun. Raging and soothing at the same time. A paradox. A placebo — a dream that was in it's entirety not as it seemed to be. The meshed up colours married in the opaque shadows of the moon — resting above the coats of the round sun. Purple streaks and light beige melted into a dampening aura. Stunning in it's own right.

Amounting to an absolute nothing, the carcasses of the vague cars outside cruised into serenity. In darkness, over the limbless mounds they projected their motions and hid. Sleek, the caravans of people moved past the home made with glass on one side. Either side made to perfection with thick gorilla glass that was one way, and the metal bars made of a matte black, that were to contrast the crème front of the home. Thick covers of trees — palms brought in straight from the deserts of Baluchistan, papaya and rose ones — lingered with their profusely thick foliage. Lights blinked through the south facing windows, even as the eclipse took place right before it. Thick velveteen curtains drawn shut in the evening. To keep it at bay.

Luxurious vehicles lined the curving driveway of the home. Built a handful of years ago inside a gated community, the home was an essence of modern luxe. With it's glass chandeliers and modern fixtures that ran in symmetry and the landscaped front — with it's statues of lions and deers. The home was a mixture of dried twigs and the wetness of anticipation. It's cobblestone — as well as limestone lined pathway lead up to a door. Made of thick wood, and a cylindrical handle that ran the length of it. A rectangular glass embedded in it to give peak of the streams of water that ran under and around the house — tiny koi fish swimming within it's clear abyss.

The home smelt of vanilla and praline — an undertone of musk from the pines swirled with power. Made of the finest marbles the stair case curled into the foyer and led into a columnar hallway, opening directly into the family lounge. Where portraits of the family hung — them and their four children. Wearing the finest of tailor made dresses and painted up with demure smiles. The parents still young as ever and their children a symbol of effervescent beauty. Through the closed caramel shaded curtains, no light trickled through and instead the lights embedded into the intricate patterns lit up the room. In their warm yellows — a fire place burning to keep the home warm.

Life was budding into the home as the neatly dressed house help worked it's way through the ground floors and basement. The first and second floor off limits until the family had left their warm enclosures. Dedicated to the couple and their youngest born, the first floor held three bedrooms, and two offices. With a lounging space in the centre that was covered with a grand piano and a taupe shaded teddy bear. It's life sized figure, flopped against the tab shelving units, covered with thin books. Fairytales and comic books, trinkets of toys and souvenirs he brought back from all his trips. Their wedding portrait hanging on the largest wall, marking the unknown land with traces of their ownership. The second floor — the topmost floor of the house had been built in an almost labyrinth. Three bedrooms and a large living space that functioned as a makeshift cinema. In corners, curving and spiralling, the rooms were disjoint and walls made thick for a case of privacy.