Ok.. let me try to be back.

im back. but with dinner in hand. which means writing is not easy. so much for time. until time finds its way back i shall call it a night! adios!

A loud splash suddenly broke the silence as I was munching on a juicy mango and asked Merti what we were going to do for the rest of the day. Merti and I were eleven. Ruben who was ten, was the youngest and got into trouble the most.

“What was that??” I asked, fear creeping up my spine like a bolt of lightening.

“It’s Ruben.” Merti replied, looking at me with  fear in her eyes too. “Ria, she’s gonna kill the three of us and hide our bodies in one of her rooms. And no one will ever know.”

Even the wind had stopped dancing against us.

“Hey, quick, come see what I found! Hurry!” Ruben’s excited whisper broke into the pocket of silence.

We ran towards the pond as fast as our legs would carry us. More in fear of being caught than over Ruben’s excited call.

“Oh my God! What is that?” Merti asked in horror, grabbing my arm.

“I think it’s some lost treasure!” He said trying to lift a rusted old box from the pond.

“Hurry up, let’s get outta here! I’m sure she heard you when you fell, Ruben.” I said, as we helped him out.

Dragging the rusted box, the three of us kept casting furtive glances at Mrs. Prutfool’s back door as we tried to sneak into our regular hiding spot in her old run down shed.

This is where we hid and had fun when we sneaked into her garden. The old lady never used it, so we never got caught.

We gathered around the box, and tried to find something to prise open the ancient padlock. Merti tried to open it with one of the clips in her hair, but it didn’t seem to help.

“Here, use this spanner.” I told Merti.

And then suddenly, a little snap and it opened. We were peering into it in excitement, hoping to see all kinds of treasures, when we heard the sound. The repeated thump of something knocking on the wooden floor.

Almost like someone with a wooden leg.

“Mrs. Prutfool!” Merti whispered, horrified.

There was dead silence except for the thumping sound until Ruben moved and knocked over the spanner.

The thumping suddenly stopped.

“Ruben, what’s gotten into you??” I whispered, fiercely.

The thumping began again, and got fainter and fainter.

“Good, she’s gone. Now look what’s in the box, Ria!” Ruben muttered.

“Wow, look at this,” I took out an old leather pouch.

Scrambling up, we untied the string and found a parchment. I unrolled the old paper and began to read.

“ I will keep you warm, when you are cold. I will burn brightly, when your days are dark. When I am cold, I will give you what you want.” I finished in growing excitement. “It’s a clue you guys!”

“Holy moly!”

Ruben looked confused, “Yeah, but what does it mean?”

“That’s what we’ve got to find out.”

Merti reread the words slowly.

“A winter coat?”

“Nah, it says ‘I will burn brightly’, that’s not a winter coat.”

After several wild guesses, Merti and I screeched together at the same moment, “The fireplace!”

“We’ll find whatever when the fire is out. That’s what it means.”

“Cool, let’s go find it.”

“Are you mad, Ruben? She’s in there.”

“You want to get caught, you nut?”

“Well how’re we gonna find out then?”

“First, let’s get outta here. We’ll make our plans at home and then come back.”

That night, the three of us gathered in my bedroom and planned our next move. This felt like an exciting adventure. And we had to make sure it went just right. No more Ruben-blunders.

We were on the lookout at Mrs.Prutfool’s front gate the next day, waiting for her to leave the house, as she did every morning.

As she left, dressed all in black, we climbed over the rusty old gate. Getting into her house was easy. The back door was never locked. But we’ve never gone in before.

Once inside, we began our search. After several dead ends, we struck gold.

“Ria, Ruben, come quick, I think this is it!”

We were so excited, Ruben toppled a chair as we ran towards the sound of  Merti’s voice.

When we found Merti, she was swallowed up by the fireplace. Only her feet were sticking out.

And when she poked her head out, white smiling teeth, stark against her blackened face. “it’s a dusty old doll…

“A doll??”

“I don’t understand..” We all looked quite puzzled.

The sudden sound of a lock turning made the three of us look towards the front door in total horror.

She was back.

There was no way we could hide this time, not unless we crept up the fireplace. And that wasn’t such a great idea as it couldn’t even hold Merti.

We were going to be killed. Put into one of the many rooms in this eerie old house, where the windows were never opened.

She somehow didn’t look all that scary when she walked in. I heard Merti breathe. And then she looked up and saw us.

Merti began dusting herself, the doll clutched behind her, never taking her eyes off her. Her voice was exactly how we’d imagined it would be. High, like a witch’s. But her eyes were different.

She walked ahead of us, and the three of us quietly followed. Still unsure as to what was going on. Was she luring us into the kitchen, so she can get the three of us at once?

We walked into a massive kitchen and the witch sat down by the huge table.

“So, you finally came inside? What took you so long?” She demanded as she started vigorously cleaning Merti.

I could feel the others gaping at her as though she’d gone mad.

“You do know how to talk, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” We said in unison.

“Well?” She asked again.

“We…errr, thought we’ll see what the inside looked like.” Merti lied bravely.

“Oh.. Specially the fireplace?”

Oh no. How do we explain that one. I thought I’d be the brave one next, “We heard a sound,”

“A sound? Inside all the fireplaces?”

“We weren’t sure which one.”

“I see. And whatever it is that you’re hiding behind your back, was that what made the sound?”

Boy, was she a smart witch.

Merti was beginning to look slightly desperate. “Oh no. This is mine.”

“But of course my child. So, let me have a look at it.” 

The doll was thrust into her hand.

She stared at it weirdly. When she looked up suddenly, her eyes had a slight sheen, as though she was holding back tears.

 “You found it.” She whispered tremulously.

Merti gulped. “It’s yours?”

She shook her head slightly, and continued, “No, it belonged to my little girl. She died on her 10^th birthday.”

“You see, she loved hiding things. She’d first tell me what she was hiding and then place all her clues, and then she’d get me to find her little treasures.”

Suddenly she got up and walked towards the door. “Here wait a bit and I’ll show you three something.”

While she was gone, we looked at each other as though we’d stumbled upon something bigger than we’d ever imagined. This was her daughter’s, and Merti had lied and said it was hers. What punishment did witches exact for lying?

But the thing was, she didn’t look like a witch up close.

“Do you think she’ll kill us?” Merti whispered into the silence.

“Don’t be silly, Merti. She sounds nice.”

The thud of a wooden stick told us that she was heading back.           

“Here, this was my little angel’s first clue, the last time she played this game with me. She died shortly afterwards. And I never figured out what it meant. Maybe you three can help me.”

Ruben reached for the piece of paper and started reading.

“Wet and cold. Blue as the sky. See me smile when I stand near by.”    

“I looked at all the places I could think of. But I didn’t guess right.”

“The pond!” the three of us got out at once.

The witch smiled at us then. She had the most beautiful eyes. “Why of course!”

She became the nicest witch we knew in town. And we became her closest buddies from then on.        

As I wake up the next day, I wait for the day to end..

Every day brings me to that one moment of waiting endlessly for the day to end..

In the hope that a day would come where I won’t need to wait for the day to end.

But it never will come.. I will be hopelessly waiting.. whiling away my days..

Only sleep takes away the pain of waiting..

He kept looking. His gaze never wavered. It felt like a piercing burn that bore a hole through my spine. The cold feeling inside me grew. He was coming closer.

What do I do now? Feign work and ignore him, or say a nonchalant hello? Either way I was going to feel sickeningly nauseous.

I’ve known him for almost two years. When I first joined my work place, he became a good friend and colleague. And then it started.

He’d look into my eyes weirdly. His eyes would never blink. He’d lightly touch me. Quite innocently in fact that even I didn’t realise he was intruding into a no zone.

No one seemed to notice his changed behaviour. No one cared. He made sure it all looked innocent and friendly. He was the nice guy around the place. He’d always stop and chat. He’d sympathetically listen and advice.

It was strange how he never seemed to have any sort of work. He just hung around, and looked, and touched.

He pulled up a chair and sat closer to me. His sickeningly sweet perfume started to work on my senses. It was early in the day, so there weren’t that many people around. I felt a chill creep up  my spine. Outwardly, I looked calm and serene. Inwardly, I was fast becoming a total wreck.

Uttering a cheerful good morning, I continued to concentrate on my work as though my life depended on it.

He ran a finger along my arm, and then lightly curled his hand around my wrist. His thumb began to stroke my inner wrist. I felt hand-cuffed by a lecherous being.

I desperately wanted to pull away and spit on his face, but I couldn’t. Did I somehow like this on a subconscious level, I wondered. No way. No one was that much of a masochist.

Reaching for a file, I dislodged his hand and moved slightly away, as he continued to talk.

Surprisingly, I heard every word he spoke. It was as though, I became two when he was around. One part of me focused on his hand, trying to keep it away from soiling my soul. The other part of me, concentrated on what he was saying, subconsciously trying to stifle the horrible feeling of nausea growing within.

Hours later, after he’d gone off, I still felt violated. And all he’d done was run his finger up my arm.

Why did it feel as though I’d let someone walk all over my innermost being? Why did it feel so vile? Why did it feel so wrong with him but innocent with countless others…

It was so confusing and yet so clear. I didn’t want him near me. Touching me. Playing games with his eyes. I wanted this stopped – now! But I didn’t have the strength to say it out loud.

So, I watched, horrified, as I let this man rape my most private emotions. I kept telling myself I’d put a stop to this, day after day, time and again. But I never got around to it.

I sat typing out some work, when I felt clammy hands start massaging my back. At that very moment I lost it. I struck out violently and pushed away. And he just smiled. Crooked, nicotine stained teeth gleemed as he asked me whether there was a problem.

All the rage, the harried emotions inside me simply boiled over. I gave full reign to my temper.

He probably didn’t know what hit him. I was known to be this quiet, docile thing, with a lovely disposition. This seething anger was new to me, too. I didn’t know I knew so many profanities.

I now feel cleansed, devoid of a terrible burden within my soul. And surprisingly, I also feel free of guilt. Guilt, because, I’d let a weaker person drag me under.

The days are light and free. I don’t feel threatened anymore. I’ve lost a so called friend and gained so much more than I could ever imagine.

A pretty girl, who’d just left school, joined us yesterday. Strangely, I felt it happen all over again. He kept looking. His gaze never wavered…        

It was a gradual falling of feelings. It wasn’t meant to happen. Nor was it contrived. It just did.

And with it came total bliss, and just as suddenly, utter despair. We became friends at a party, where music throbbed with intensity. Bodies swayed, rocked, and jumped.

I sat in a corner watching people move. He sat opposite me, watching me watch.

It took me a while to feel his gaze. But when I did, it felt as though I’d come home to the glow of a beautiful smile. We were lost souls who’d finally found each other. We became the best of friends.

As time went on, I came to know him inside out. He loved cracking jokes. He’d do anything to put a smile on someone’s face. He lifted spirits and lightened hearts. That was the way he was.

The day I lost Flirty, my pet dog of 11 years, he got me to smile by solemnly stating that Flirty was now probably having torrid love affairs in dog heaven whilst having every other she-dog at his beck and call.

He did countless inane things that changed people’s lives without their knowledge.

But there were days that he didn’t smile. He fell into deep black moods. Things didn’t always work out for him the way he wanted them to, because he wasn’t like everyone else.

No one understood. But then, no one really knew him as well as I did. Therefore, I knew how totally hopeless my feelings were.

I was going to be alone in this. I knew it with complete conviction.

I don’t know exactly when I fell in love. It was probably at that party when our eyes met for the very first time. Or maybe it was the time he told off a total stranger who’d tried to be funny with me, in a tone I’d never heard from him before.

I don’t know. I can’t really think when it had happened. I just knew one day that my heart beat faster just because of him.

It came down to one of two things. I either tried to forget what I felt or I told him, and put our friendship in jeopardy.

Firstly, forgetting was no meagre task. And secondly, our friendship meant the world to me. So, which of the two evils was it going to be?

I let time slide. Being with him was heaven and hell. I could feel confusion playing with our friendship. He didn’t understand. I did. The teasing light in his eyes became a puzzled question. Where would this end, I wondered for the zillionth time.

His friend with the tightly cropped hair and tall lanky frame walked in when we were having a friendly spat. I felt my body go cold and tight.

It was then that I began to fall to pieces. The intensity of my feelings and the futility of the situation floored me. He liked tall, well muscled guys with an endless sense of humour in their souls. He definitely wasn’t interested in me, his closest buddy who had silky soft hair that grazed her shoulder and an abundance of hopelessness in her soul.

I think I’d finally made my choice. It really didn’t matter because I lost out either way.

I hadn’t told him yet, nor had I tried to forget, but I missed him already. Missing him was like not knowing where a part of you was. It was going about your normal routine, but nothing was really normal.

I wish I knew how I could tell him. It wasn’t the easiest thing I’d had to do. But then again, maybe he already knew. I’d told him in so many different ways these past few weeks. Words were not the only way of communication, I’ve found. There were looks, feelings, moods, and most importantly, smiles… 

This used to be my childhood retreat. My grandparents’ humble dwelling, set in the highlands of Sri Lanka.

Down through the rear stairs of the house lay the barn, empty and neglected. Hens cackled, while their chicks followed them in a maze of marching procession. A further flight of stairs led to a tank, where rain water was collected for washing purposes. Goats bleating far away could be heard through the general sounds as the sun seeped out through the snowy white clouds in the blue, blue sky.

At the end of the barn you could see coffee trees that abounded the woods behind. All sorts of greenery that hold splendid beauty in my mind flourished right here in the very heart of my grandparents’ backyard.

A long winding path, carved along the years, led to a well in the very depths of this thick wilderness. It was like trespassing into a fairytale, setting off to that bottomless well, where I was not allowed to go as a child, which in turn made it more exciting and thrilling when I did get the chance to slip off.

Frogs croaked into the blessed silence, birds chirped, tiny flowers cluttered the long grass, and beams of sunlight filtered in through the trees. It was like a perfectly orchestrated Mozart symphony. Looking back, it feels unreal to imagine such wilderness as truly natural.

An aroma of fresh chicken cooking in the wooden stove, would assail my nostrils and lure me back to the kitchen where my grandmother would be preparing our breakfast. I have yet to this day, find a restaurant that beats her cooking. She had no running water, no electricity, and yet her meals were fit for a king.

The cool evening breeze would play through my hair as I rambled through the wild rocky path at the other end of the house, which led to the woods behind. A mango tree which my grandmother’s eldest sister had planted when she was a child, stood tall, a little way down this path. It used to bear mangoes as sweet as wild honey-suckle.

The tree is now dying out with most of its branches bare of leaves. Mangoes are a rarity now, symbolizing the death of a bygone era. The planting of this tree, as a child, knowing that she might not be able to taste the fruits this tree would one day bear, was revealing in itself.

The time would finally come for us to return to the busy city where home is. My grandmother would hug each of us tightly, tears streaming down her cheeks. We were never left in doubt as to how much she cared.

Over two decades have passed since those care-free afternoons and cold breezy nights. My grandparents are no more. The woods are now inhabited by houses. Pollution has set in.

Life goes on. Many changes have taken place since I was just a kid, with not a care in the world. There are moments in the busy life I lead when I go back in time, reliving beautiful memories of long past.

To me, those visits to my grandparents’ place were as precious as gold is to some people., confirming my belief that life can be made beautiful in many little ways, even by the planting of a tree.

Why?

I want the laughter we used to share to play in the air. I want your lips to twist in humour as i tease you. I want to make you smile along with me, for i really don’t think I’ll ever smile again, with her by your side.

Why?

My heart still pounds for you. Summersaults, cartwheels, loud drumbeats in the air. My eyes still linger on yours. Goosebumps on my skin when you’re close by. My heart is full of you, my love. But is yours full of her?

Why?

I miss you Seth. I miss your gentleness. I miss the love that washed through my whole being when we were together. I miss so much more than I can ever put together in mere words. I miss you. From the bottom of my heart. From the very core of my being. Do you miss me , I wonder..

It’s lonely without you. There’s no one to make me feel whole. No one to make me smile. No one to hold my hand, when the pain gets bad. No one to love me like you used to.. Do you love her now?

Why?

I made you cry that night at the hospital, long ago. Loud wracking sounds that tore at my soul. Why? Did I hurt you in some way, my love? Why did you leave me behind in that lonely hospital room? We made so many beautiful plans, in there. So many dreams that we’d make come true when i came back home. What happened, Seth?

Why?

Will you leave her like you left me? Do you make her smile like you made me? Does she make you whole, like i used to? Do you hold her hand too?

Why?

Why can’t you see me when i stand right before you? Why do you at times have that haunted look in your eyes? Is something wrong? Why don’t you see me, Seth? Is it because you now have eyes only for her?

Why?

It hurts, Seth. Can you make it go away. Will you hold my hand, one last time?

I don’t understand. Why didn’t you take me home with you? Why did you leave me behind?

Why, my love?

The bellowing voices continue. The hurtful words reverberate across the walls. The hurt inside wells up to the point of unbearable. That’s when my mind becomes a wandering mess. My fists, tight balls against my ears. I chant, I sing, I talk, anything to stop the pain. And yet the hurtful words keep ringing. It never stops. It goes on and on. A constant chant of a wicked witch.

My head aches. It throbs unmercifully as I lay in bed. Tears down my face, a pool on my lap, a chasm in my heart.

It’s at moments like these that I almost lose my senses and go to the brink. The huge block in my throat, the hurt in the pit of my stomach, the saliva I keep swallowing, my bleeding eyes… It hurts too much to go on.

I want to go home. Where ever that may be. It’s not here within these four blank walls, where pain rules and love eludes.

I’m serenely talking myself out of this hell hole..  I could go on and on, while my silent mind patiently listens. Never criticising. Never complaining. This is how I change to my other self. But the memories never fade. They always linger. Forever etched.

My mind wanders back in time, when tears were hugs and kisses; laughter -  flying high  in swings. The faraway sky my oyster, the world my dream.

How far will my wandering mind take me? To the brink and back? From one hell hole to a more calmer one? I wish I knew. I really do.

The search for home still goes on. Across dark empty skies. Across a fairytale of thoughts. The only one I’ve yet found is in the words I read across the pages of a book. In the end, they’re all illusions in my mind.

I’m myself now. The change has truly taken place. I still carry lingering signs of my rebellious other self, through my dry but smarting eyes, my dripping nose, the heaviness inside my heart.

I feel cold inside. The world has finally fallen asleep. The somber silence is as threatening as the screaming voice of a few hours ago, where a step father screamed, threatened and raged and a mother watched calmly with not a care in the world. A slight breeze blows through the window in my room.

Little does anyone know that I’ve just come back from a nightmare I visit every night…