Thursday, December 8, 2011

The Bloom Of Curse - II




The blossoms surround me yet again as I walk towards the cherry tree. Light pink merging with earth brown to create the illusion that is, as I realise lately, a trademark of your powers. It fills my vision as I stand still, awaiting. Chills prick my skin in anticipation of your next move. I’m on my edge, feeling, sensing the slightest of change that could cause my undoing.

As usual you take me by surprise, capable as you are at stealth. With a flourish you appear, looking down at your slave, held captive by the roots of the cherry tree.

I do not back down from your merciless gaze. I’m not afraid…I never was. My history with divination has allowed me, above all, to predict my own death.

How I long to lie in your arms and breathe my last, disregarding your hand coated with my blood; the hand that could so easily tear me apart like a spear…


In the dead of the night, the sky resounded with thunder and lightening. Rain poured over the unsuspecting city. She woke up to the storm pounding at her windows. In a single, fluid movement, she hoisted herself from the bed and walked over to the balcony. The doors were flung open and she was soaked within minutes. Retreating to the humid comfort of her room, she absently lit a cigarette, mindlessly gazing into the pale countenance and the hollow eyes of her reflection in the mirror as she smoked. The steady gaze belied the turbulent sentiments that tore through her.

She had every reason to rage at herself. Ten years on and the ruminants of that terrible night still haunted her enough to lose her sleep. Deliberately, she took off her damp shirt, revealing a long, ragged scar across her right shoulder and whip like marks on the base of her neck. Her eyes closed in anguish as she recalled the asphyxiating pain that shot through her body, as she wriggled vainly to free herself of the vice-like grip of the cherry branches. The plain black and white talismans, knife-sharp, sliced her arms at multiple places. The feeling of being stabbed as she mistakenly cut through her shoulder to free herself of the chains… She retained the scars of that incident, both physical and emotional. Wearing full-sleeved robes that covered her extremities was all she could do to hide the apparent signs of that encounter, but it besieged her like a vulture which circles endlessly to capture its prey.

The battle was unfinished. In the haze that rose from her now neglected cigarette, her eyes gleamed with a feeling unknown to her till that day – vengeance. As she began to dress, casting aside the lingering thoughts of sleep, she could smell the faint fragrance of the blossoms wafting through the clammy air. She smiled grimly; she wasn’t the only one who was awake at this ungodly hour.

He was waiting for her. Both of them didn’t like to leave a story incomplete.

With a callous satisfaction, she tucked the sword inside her coat and left. The rendezvous was arranged – without either speaking a word. 


(To be continued)
..................................................................................................................................................................................

How I wish I could be less erratic, but the annoying school and even more annoying studies - so much for sustained creativity. *sighs* 

This irregularity shall remain for now, that is all I can say. 

No comments:

Post a Comment

Praises or barbs, you are welcome to speak your mind.