The pictures, they have all yellowed. When did we grow older? When did the years pass by? she thought, fingers tracing each picture, trying to relive the memory that was forever captured. Her thirteenth birthday, a very blurred picture, courtesy of her brother. Her thirteenth Christmas, where they both dressed like ghosts— something they were supposed to do on Halloween, but nobody ever came to their house, so what was the point in following the rules?
She smiled as she closed the photo album and put it back. It was all in the past— and it looked good only in pictures and polaroids, but the past was a time she would never want to go back. Never. That was a chapter closed, and even though it sometimes opened by itself— she'd never allowed it to open completely. Here, in the present, she was good. In the present, she was happy.
Daydreamer, lookee here, maryam said grinning, snapping her fingers in front of her face. She shook her head and looked up at her face.
It's night. 11:30 pm, to be precise.
—Yes.
So what exactly do you need?
—I want us to sneak to the terrace.
It's late, the halls are quiet and empty—
—I want you to see the night sky. Also, saba and aiden are there.
Count me in. Fuck it if anyone catches us.
Grinning, maryam threw her a jacket. It's cold, she said, when zara looked at her questioningly.
How did you get the guard to keep the gate to the terrace open so late? she asked, a tingle of fear slithering down her back.
—Bribes actually do work, zara. C'mon now.
She looked at the impatient figure in front of her questioningly, but gave up and went according to her arrangements. Bending the rules a little does not harm anybody, after all.
Pulling her arm, trying not to laugh out loud like a couple of schoolgirls and disturb the invisible souls floating in the dark hallways, they climbed up. And sure, there was aiden and saba, laughing softly.
zara stopped and let go of maryam's hand as she took a moment to appreciate how ethereal he looked. The moon, falling on his face, coloured him in its pale glow, how his soft laugh sounded like the purest thing in the whole world, how good he looked when he threw back his head and laughed, how mesmerising his eyes, painted in a shade of olive, looked as he gazed upon her and locked eyes with her for a second— she stood there in her place, for a solid minute, even though to her it felt like hours, as she took in every feature, every flaw etched in the boy who now, was looking down, hair covering his face, his hand hugging the wall.
I am enchanted to meet you. I am wonderstruck at how the darkest of nights, and the palest of pale moons somehow still manage to make you look like Achilles. And somehow, the night, so dark, is still so flawless in all its mysterious peace and quiet.
Am I in love?
Come on up, saba brought the pakodas* she bought yesterday.
—Save some for me!
We won't be able to unless you move those legs of yours quick enough. These are damn delicious, aiden said, grinning.
zara jogged to the corner where they stood and ate the last four they left, mercifully.
The stars, they look beautiful, the night is sparkling with their beauty. The entire darkness, the mysteriousness makes you curious to look deep into the night— but as you do, you get enchanted, because didn't the poets say that the night sky is always magical, in a dark way? The night sky is naked, not covered in fake smiles and brightness— isn't that exactly why people cry at night? Isn't that the reason why people let their deepest, darkest secrets and pain out in the night? The night is enchanting, magical, cold— cold to the point where'd you love to be frozen to death. It is dangerously beautiful— and it makes you fall in love.
This night is sparkling, don't you let it go, she whispered
to herself. "This love is blinding me, I'm blindly following him as my vision of all the flaws he has gets blinded by the sparkle of goodness he emits", she thought, and a soft smile etched on her lips as she looked at him, sitting at the other corner of the room, head bent down.
The bell rang, and students filed out. Aza looked up and walked up to her place, smiling.
"Come on, everybody is almost gone", he urged, looking at the crowd of students at the door. She nodded and got up. "I'm done", she breathed out and followed him.
"You're not like the regulars", she whispered to herself as she let her hand be held by his, running behind him, laughing freely, careless of all the other people swarming around them, some glancing at them, some going by their own business. They were having fun, that was what mattered the most.
"He's beautiful, like a mythical creature that used to exist but has now faded. He is like the gothic scriptures, the abandoned, ruined cathedrals— peaceful in a rather dark way, gorgeous with statues that give off ominous vibes. He is religiously bloody, hauntingly historical", she thought, as she felt shocks of euphoria flow through the fingers that were touching his skin. "Staring at him right in the eye is as beautiful as appreciating the architecture and as frightening as demons infiltering the ruined cathedral. His eyes are as lonely as death angels dying in impure, long forgotten cathedrals and are as mesmerising as all the blood splattered on the deadly intricate patterns. Loving him is dangerous for sure, but dying in the madness of curiosity, not being able to satiate the hunger is worse" she whispered to herself, as they let go of their intertwined fingers and walked away to their classrooms.
"Loving him
was red, indeed. leaving him was red. his entire personality was red. kissing him was red. everything with him was red. and now i'm blue. blue with pain. i am also purple— for i mourn the death of the love I had in me for him. i am grey, for now, that i am blind, i don't see the colours he showed me. and now i am bleeding red, my entire being is bleeding red for him, for everything that i have lost— and for myself. how strange it is, the fact that i hate myself to the point where i'd long for my past self. maybe i died in the midst of events that took place— and now, now i am only the shell of the person i used to be.
is that why ghosts and monsters roam on the soils of the earth, to get back their former selves? and do they attack humans because it is us who threw away their souls?
where did i go, while being in the chaotic events off all the changing nights? when did i lose myself? i always used to dream of impossible things, but why do i not dream anymore?
she sighed and fell asleep, a single tear making its way from her eye, creating a blue drop on the table in the light of the lamp.
somehow, somewhere— i forgot what it was like to dance as if i had starlight in my blood
had inked the peeling wallpapers hanging off the walls, there was blood pooling around her— blood that was red in colour, yet so dark that it almost looked black in the dim light of the bathroom, and in the midst— there she was, standing, her face blank, the mirror shattered, glass in her hands.
there goes the dead, she thought.
the door— did it bang open? is that dad and zane? why do they look so scared? nevermind, i am too tired to think right now, i am floating...
xxx(alcott) rushed in and held the bloodied figure before it hit the floor and took her out. zane stood there, unable to process, his mind a blank slate, everything in the world seeing to him to be a dim, dark, scary, lonely mixture of red and black.
nobody spoke. they worked together, as if on autopilot. the ambulance came, its sirens blaring. windows opened. lights turned on. sleepy heads appeared. doors opened. shadowy figures coloured the sidewalk under the street lights. people got down from the ambulance. there go the paramedics, there they go, taking her along with them. xxx(alcott) shoved him to their neighbour's hand. he climbed in. the door closed. the car, it disappeared into the hands of the night, and so did everyone, as windows closed again and lights turned off.
he didn't cry— he was just amazed at seeing his dad run to hold her. i thought he had already died, this is the first time he is reacting to something, he thought smiling to himself. the blood? the ambulance? no no, i am imagining it all. it's just a nightmare, nothing else. man up boy, or will you piss your pants? his mind whispered to him as he followed his neighbour, correcting the style of his bed hair.
they stood at the kitchen table in awkward silence, his eyes looking directly into those of the woman standing in front of him, till she looked down, stepped inside her room and closed the door.
there she goes— like everyone and everything. not a single responsibility handled with care, not a single promise ever kept, not a single love ever delivered properly, and with love.
he jumped on the sofa and closed his eyes, having the best and the most peaceful sleep in ages. this was the first time sleep— something that is supposed to rest your mind and body, actually did its job.
there he was. xxx(alcott), jogging beside the hospital bed, trying to keep up with the limp figure on the bed which was being taken to the emergency wards. my daughter— she is going away. she is leaving me for sure this time. i thought it was me who was dead, but did i kill others around me while killing myself? does she hate me now? does zane do, too? do they remember my name? am i remembered by anyone? i may be dead, i don't mind being killed, i don't mind being whipped, tortured, killed— if that means they get to live. i don't have much money— but i am willing to sell my soul if that means she will get to live. i am willing to walk down knee-deep in legal trouble if that means she will get her soul back. nobody needs old men like me— the world needs the young generation, the world needs my daughter.
she has lost a lot of blood and needs immediate blood. we will also need someone with the same blood type as her to refill the bottles of blood which will be given to her from the blood bank. for that, we need you to sign the paper of consent. are you her guardian?
—yes, i am. i am her biological father, xxx(alcott). he took out his legal papers.
well then, here is the letter of consent.
hands shaking, he took the paper and signed below the specified place for guardian's signature. his eyes, they kept flickering back to all the wires her arms were connected with, all the bottles attached at the top, all the nurses flocking around her.
will she be okay? he thought, his heart aching in a dull pain as she was taken away from him to the lift, its mouth closing as they stepped inside, the steel gates blocking his vision from seeing her anymore.
will she be okay? i hope she does, i don't want to die again. i want to live and love again— i want to live like new. i want to let go of the past and live in the present.
but won't leaving the past mean leaving my children too? at this point am i not better of—
dead? I was always dead to you, and if I was dead to you then why were you at the wake, cursing my name, wishing I stayed?* she wrote, her fountain pen creating little scratching sounds due to the friction— and it echoed in her ears. Many pens, many papers, many wastebaskets, many people— all of them, writing, writing, scratching it out, throwing it away. So many— sitting at desks, hands moving swiftly along the paper. She was one of them as well, yes of course she was one of them. She was just another handful of dust competing with the others, trying to win the fight to be visibly noticed, to have the sun's light fall on them as it fell in a thin stream from a narrow crack in a dark, dead room. Her eyes never once looked up from the paper, her fingers holding the pen tight, making it move in a frenzy as she kept on writing, writing whatever poured out from her heart, as she kept fabricating feelings, emotions, memories, love, loss, pain— all into words, phrases, sentences, paragraphs, stories.
The alarm sounded. She drew the last full stop and looked up. Many were still writing their last sentences, their last paragraphs while many others got up and filed to the submission outlet. Four pages, I required four pages. These four pages will have the chance to turn my life upside down— can I do it? she thought, as her eyes swam over the numerous scribbles once and stapled the pages order-wise.
She got up and handed over her bundle, her identification facing the top. By the time she looked away, her identification— which saw the light of the world for just a fraction of a second, got blocked by all the other numerous identifications.
She walked out and pulled out her mobile, its screen a cracked one. It was second-hand, after all. She clicked on the power button and tapped on the contacts icon a few times before it opened when she was suddenly pushed to the other, emptier side of the hall. A sweaty palm covered her lips, disabling her from screaming, and a hot breath whispered—
Congrats, bitch. You did it, I am proud of you.
The grip around her waist loosened and the hand covering her lips gave way as she flipped her head, only to see the grinning face of saba, and behind her, those of aiden and maryam. She hissed in mock anger and tackled her by the waist, releasing a fit of laughter from saba— tickles being her weapon.
Four double scoop chocolate ice creams, please.
The shopkeeper nodded and handed her the requested flavour as she paid for all of them.
Treat's on me, everyone! she screamed, her scream of victorious happiness getting broken down into a shrill whisper-scream as she hiccuped with laughter and handed out the ice creams to the three people sitting on the park bench, keeping one for herself.
Ya'll deserve this for sticking with me and providing me with the best of playlists for this day. Fuck, thank you so much. I love you, she said, loud enough for them to hear.
They pretended to ignore the mention of thanks, but a new flower of love, satisfaction and friendship bloomed in all of their hearts as they hid their smiles and gobbled up each of their melting ice creams.
•
•
•
—• Will you be my magician? Because somehow, whenever I see you, my eyes follow whatever you do, as if you are showing me, a little kid, how you got a rabbit out of thin air. •—