Skip to main content

[Short Story] A Broken World


Plop. Plop. Plop. She sat there looking at the drops of rain on the glass window. The gloom of the situation dawned on her. She was stuck here beyond the man-made walls as nature wreaked havoc in the city.

"No this isn't it," she thought while glancing at the drops of rain on the glass window, "This is not how I am going to give up. How can I? after so many days?"
"This relationship is as old as me itself..." she thought again, "Yes, that's it, I cannot let it end."
She walked to the dressing room to quickly changed, "No need to overdue it. This is no celebration, this is war. Yes, it is."

She took the first step out of the door and it felt liberating. It felt like freedom, she now knew how the freedom fighters felt when they were fighting for freedom.
The sky broke apart, thundering on her as a warning to step back indoors. She refused. She was determined today. She refused to be told what to do today, even by God.
She double checked her purse. This was the only thing she needed.
"Yes, rain-God," her mind agitated, "This is a war against you too... you took his side. I cannot let it."
Every step into the dripping rain felt a surge of an energy boost in her. She was winning, "Yes, I can" she proclaimed and she splashed her way through the mud-drenched footpath.

Plop. Plop. Plop. Her shoes splashed into the mud with little sprinkles ruining her favorite jeggings. "These jeggings will be sacrificed at the altar of love, today," she announced to no-one.
As she tore through the rain drops and walked on the rain-soaked street she had one goal in her mind. Only one.  And she could see her destination around the corner.
There he was, grinning in toothless smile looking at her.

"Shameless," she thought, as she walked closer to him. With every step, the distance between them reduced and her anticipation increased. Her mind raced ahead, at the prospect of what lay ahead and she took a deep breath. This is it.

The moment was here.

He could not believe she was here, he did not expect her too. But he secretly wished for her to come. This was their daily ritual, an unspoken, unwritten ritual. He was standing here in the rain under the tiny umbrella waiting- his end of bargain met, was she about to keep her? They never promised anything to each other, they were not even exclusive. But something told her, she will come looking and when she did, he wanted to be there for her. And he was.

Her hands were numb, her hair, her clothes drenched in water. She shuddered as the chill spread through the veins. The numbness was spreading across her body, she could feel the energy dropping in her limbs. She had few minutes left to do it. The sky thundered once more, but this time, it only agitated her, energized her.

Directly looking at his eyes, she finally moved her numb lips and placed the change on his counter,

"Two choco bars, please."

He obliged. How could he refuse the choco bar for his loyal customer?

Plop. Plop. Plop. She walked, carrying her choco-bars with her. And the distance between them increased. He watched her cross the street and hoped she would turn back once. As always, she did not turn back. He was not upset, she had left him behind as do the countless people who come to him. She was special for him, his loyal customer. And he was there for her. He closed the umbrella and let the cold rain wash on his face. Vehicles raced past him, ignoring the lone cyclist on the ice-cream tricycle climbing the steep hill alone. She was happy and in her happiness, he was too.
It was a long ride but he could not disappoint his favorite customer, could he?
She was back in her position near the window, she glanced at the world outside. It stood still, people were still as if waiting for the rain-gods to wash their sins. But she did not, she had won the war against rain-God. The two sticks in her hands proved it.

The nurse popped her head into the room, "Did you go out in the rain to bring your ice cream?" she asked, her voice raised in disbelief.

"Slurp," she replied, rejoicing her victory, enjoying the ice cream in the rain-soaked clothes.

The nurse rushed to fetch some towels to dry her but she didn't care, today, her ice-cream tasted better than ever.




Image: http://pexels.com
CC0 License
Image used for representation purpose only and is not related to the post in anyway.

Comments

  1. Wow. Wow . Wow. I say that thrice coz I read it thrice. Lovely. I dont know if it makes sense but "passionately subtle" is what came to my mind when I read it. Thrice.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so much Deepali. And glad you enjoyed it. Passionately subtle is how it should be.

      Delete

Post a Comment

What do you think about the post? Have your say, like, dislike or even hate me. Tell me.

You might also want to Subscribe to RSS feeds or follow me on Twitter (@sidoscope) or on facebook

I don't need weapon, I have a sharp tongue.

Popular posts from this blog

[Short Story] The Last Breath On Earth

A bug is a computer anomaly that is generated usually because of developer’s ignorance or environmental factors. The former is more prominent in computer programs. The term debugging means to find the cause for the bug and fixing it. The term debugging has a humorous origin. In 1947, Grace Murray Hopper was working on the Harvard University Mark II Aiken Relay Calculator. On the 9th of September, 1947, when the machine was experiencing problems, an investigation showed that there was a moth trapped between the points of Relay #70, in Panel F. The operators removed the moth and affixed it to the log. The word went out that they had "debugged" the machine and the term "debugging a computer program" was born. As the technology progresses it advances towards perfection and minimizes its flaws, unfortunately, this was not true for computers. The bugs and errors increased exponentially with the advancement of computers. What earlier was a mere moth trapped i

[Short Story] Return

He walked the old dusty road again after so many years. He remembered the place very well, so many memories etched into his mind. The old forgotten dusty lane, which was never urbanized by any political agenda. The same old little house which stood the test of time for so many years. He remembered his last walk on this road. He was trying to prevent the flood flowing from his nose and running his sore bumps with his free hand. He knew this return was uncalled for, unexpected but it was the one he had to make. He did not know how she would react, would she still be happy on seeing him or will she even recognize him? The crumbled paper clutched in his hand was his identity for so many years. It was a his ticket to existence, his own. The bell was in his reach now, he was a few seconds away in uncovering the truth. If he wanted to turn back, this was the last threshold. Funny thing was, even after so many days, his hand shivered at this stage. Would he face her? Face

Pinch Boxing

"Whatcha doing?" I asked her as she stood in a questionable position in the jogger's park, early morning. How early? Even the slum dwellers had not come out on the streets for their morning potty. 'I am practising a new form of defence,' she replied peacefully. 'Defense, that is interesting. Some trouble?' I quizzed. 'I met my old friends today over lunch then we went shopping, and in the evening we took coffee at CCD,' she started. 'So we were discussing relationships, she was telling how she has screwed her life and how practical she has become after her first breakup I haven't told anyone about my boyfriend, but it made me think of how foolish and stupid I am...' About time, don't you think? '..and how I am not doing anything about it, also they told me that I have lost a lot of weight, which is sad because people keep asking if I am sick or something...' Uh oh, is there an emergency exit around?