◻Guzzled Grims◻
I'm inside you, even in your silence. But never let too much of me cloud you. I'm a murmur and let me not become your voice.
~SKEPTICISM.
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Why are there so many lights? It's nearly noon!
The dancing gleams from the rope-held lantern lights emitted a teasing glare at his narrowed lids. Shrugging his shoulders, he dodged to the side where heavy hollering jars spilled the strong odor of roasted beans. With every attempt to squeeze his temples, he couldn't help his timid nerves.
"Are you paid high for deafening everyone? Knock it off!"
His retching words made a woman drop her wooden tray, spilling the mud pot to crack it into shredded pieces that can never be fixed. He gaped at her five feet for some fractions. Her curly locks messed to sway at her heart-shaped face, hiding every feature except for her twitching lips that bloomed into a playful grin. The slaughtering silence of the place made him retire, and the sudden clumsy attitude of the girl made the breath around vague enough.
"That was horrible!"
A wheezy yet demanding claim from behind made him tilt his ears. Soon before he could perceive, he saw the man rush toward him, ignoring the thick stares. He placed the black wooden tray down the stone-carved top.
"Says someone who forgot his tithi karma. It's tomorrow, right?" His arched neck made his eyes sink while his playful grin dipped his cheeks.
"How do you-"
"Haha! I know a bit more too."
With his solid glances at the spoon-handed clock ticking on the wall, he read the time. It was thirty past ten.
"In less than a minute, you will be-"
Before he could finish, he could see Tushant's phone flash red speckles as it vibrated in his shirt pocket.
"That's quick enough! Worry not. It's just a reminder."
Tushant gaped at the screen that read 'Vaadhyaar' and back at the strange man who was making him spooky and nervous.
A gimmicky quack or an intellectual sage? Perhaps it's the spirit world.
Before he could gather his scattered self, the vibrations muted. Looking at the blank screen for a few minutes, he placed it on the table.
"Not gonna call back?" He asked while dampening his regular handkerchief with dribbles of water from the matt black clay pot to spread it on his eyes.
"Why should I begin when I have reached the end already?" His cautious stares tuned with his interrupted breaths.
"Haahaa. Trusting me this early?" His nefarious grin prodded him.
"Do I have a choice?" Peeking through the wet folded linen, he lessened his grin into a smirk.
"Seems like I have met someone strange enough." He took the cubical glass, and with a careful glimpse, he traced the smooth edges with his little finger.
"Not stranger than someone who orders whisky at this time of the day."
"Ahaa. Love can't be contained."
Slowly he straightened his back to align his smoky caffeine eyes to his autumn browns.
"So is addiction."
He twirled his dozing phone.
"Fair enough. Now I get it."
With gentle whisks, he cleared the whipped vanilla cream squatting at the top of the wine-red liquid.
"Getting what?" Tushant limped as his elbows slid past the brick bean couch.
"Your vigor attempts to turn your sister's situation into a triumphing thesis. Right, Tushant?"
His fidgeting halted as his shoulders slumped.
"I give up, man. You are strange!Strangest, if that's even a word."
His thin smile couldn't mask his urge to punch this man hard enough to wake his sanity. He unfolded his clenched fingers with every sigh that escaped him.
Sleeping geese can't become an eagle with a pat.
He concluded between his never shifting gapes.
"Even then, I'm more aware of things around me."
What the? This isn't fair!
"If you are done dabbling, shall we begin?"
Tushant took the steaming pot and sniffed the charcoal and roasted caffeine smell. With his casual moves, he noticed how every ounce of the raw alcohol drink relished him.
Such a mad, annoying, boozy rooster.
"Wup-"
Akin to a bee being stung by the harsh whips of air, he began coughing.
"Should- you be harsh-" His jerks loosened his grip.
Damn the glass- Survive!
Tushant moved quickly and caught the cream-only glass that slipped from his hold before it sauntered to hopeless chunks.
One good move! You saved many bucks.
"Argh, you perky punk! Let's get going."
He rushed down the stairs even before he could get up. Forcing his tea down the gut, making his tummy savor more than his tongue, he ran past the little crowd.
Boom! He is faster than a pony. Or am I slower than a turtle?
Bargaining some rushes of air, he hustled to his burgundy-painted car only to find him sitting beside the steering seat.
"You even know my car! Yet how did- I remember locking it."
"Punk, bottle up, and hop in. Or I will leave. I don't need a key to drive."
Meddled in satirical qualms, he rushed to his side and pulled the handle up. To his surprise, it was tense.
Holy evil!
He then twisted the key to get in. Jumbled over the bounty satchel of mystery, he ignited.
"Where to go, Mr...?"
"Profession or solution? What would you choose, Tushant?"
"Think you love to roll the dice when you know where it will land?" His whimsical taps resounded all over.
"So I am a Saguni! Haahaa! You aren't the only one who said that. Just drive me home. I shall rest till then."
"Wha- does that mean I'm invited-" When he leaped his head to the sides, all he could see was a sunk couch of stillness.
"Hey. He- Hey?" He shook his broad muscled shoulders with all his might.
Gosh, I don't even know his name!
"You are alive, right?" When he jerked his torso, he could see him giggle while he pushed his seat back enough to flatten it.
"Go to hell if you die in my car!"
Immersed in the uncertain proclivities, Tushant bent over him to check his breathing. Loud hurls of noise burst through his narrow nostrils.
Annoyed with his heavy snores, Tushant pinched his sharp, shrunk nose until the carmines colored its tips. In a moment, his chest peeped to fall, making Tushant fear enough to hoist his skin hairs.
His quizzed breath panicked his senses. He slowly lowered his ears to his strutting lips. Some slurred murmurs could be heard.
"Inn dhe first grain you gave me a body. Second, you gave fouer leeimbs toh craw. Third-"
A cranky jokester! Am I sane enough to believe him?
~•🔳•🔲•🔳~
Scrk- Scruck- Teec...
The screams of the thick sheets howled past the oddly silent whips of the wind to land in a sharp knock. Spills of oily reds, black, and whites were speckled and smudged with prints of feet that kept bouncing.
'This isn't a dream. A part of you.'
The rusty recollections of those grim events made her press those scared swollen lips.
"Who was he? How-"
Her lagging lids hunted down the floors when a faint tingle was loud enough to peel her maiming muses. As she glanced at the rippled bits of paper that lay indolent on the beds, she saw the bristles of the wet black brush. Like a gusty blow that faints the lights, those shades made her recollect something she never wished she had seen.
One more attempt doesn't hurt.
Sighing out the heaps that heavied her, she pulled out another white sheet. She poured the colors to her content on the palette and began dipping the worn-out brush in haphazard strokes. Splashing the oil shades, she scratched them over the sheet lying in front of her.
'So afraid to be dead?'
"No! Not again!"
She rolled the brush between her fingers, spilling paint to stick to her creases. With every fringe of recollection, her weakness grew dominant.
'Kraaw. Kraaw. The fly fears the fire.'
She firmly gripped the edges of the paper as her eyes became frozen to the wild mass of a chapped gloom. With every attempt she made to grab the brush in the other hand, her choking gulps made it hard for her to swallow the knotting lumps.
TING. GLIN. KLIN.
The jumps and bounces of the brush made her push back the wooden drawing desk, pouring the greyish-black waters to extend their amoebic hands.
How feeble have I become?
She rested her head, crumpling her mattresses.
Why me?
Her agitated knocks made her fall deeper into the pits, aggravating her pain.
It's not your fault Kimaya. And the end isn't too far.
She heard a guttural whisper that made her bounce to search the surroundings. When she was about to hunt, drumming shudders spread on her thighs, making her retire to the floor.
Perhaps this is also a part of me.
She laughed at those crippling commotions.
Clink... Kling!
This time it wasn't the brushes. A surge of solid morning blow made the keys twirl to catch her glimpse. Through the slit between the door frame, she looked at the 'Do not enter' sign hanging at the knob.
Maybe that's where I should plow.
"Some psychological facts might help."
Her heel bounced as she moved the table and chunks of paper to the sides, keeping the little hopes high.
FOOTNOTE:
Tithi: A religious rite performed to settle the turmoil of the dead on a new moon day. It is pronounced as 'the-thee'.
Vaadhyaar: A Sanskrit word to address the one who performs sacred rituals. It translates directly to refer to a teacher. It is pronounced as 'whad-year'.
Somras: An euphoric drink liked by celestial beings, pronounced as 'so-m-raws'.
I hope the story is likable so far. We have crossed the 8k milestone of the story here. Cheers to everyone.
Ever in your memory,
🪢..Yaris..🪢