Archive for the ‘Stories’ Category

Maisha’s Mystery Man

Maisha pushed the trolley ahead, grumbling to herself. ‘A whole day slaving away at work and what do I get as soon as I get home? Can you go buy some bread? Sure! Cuz why would I need a rest?!’ So engrossed was she in her thoughts that she failed to notice the figure casting a large looming shadow behind her. Unaware of being watched she paused by the carefully constructed pyramid of apples in the fruits section and picked one up rolling it around in her hand. A watchful pair of eyes observed her, the straight two toned brown hair which fell askew over her eyes in a subtle yet sexy manner, the lithe movements of her long limbs down to her light green shoes which contrasted her neutral coloured outfit in the same way her fiery eyes contradicted her demure demeanour.

He walked past the lady holding a tray of apple slices on toothpicks and deftly picked one up without pausing, headed straight for her. Just as she turned to register his presence he popped the piece in her mouth with a cheeky grin. Her face registered shock, confusion and then as expected, annoyance. ‘Just what the hell do you think you are doing?’ she hissed at him. He smiled to himself, even caught off guard she was not the type to yell and make a scene. He leaned back and smiled at her, this was going to be fun.

‘Giving you a taste of what you are considering, how do you like it?’

‘What the .. who the hell are you?’ He chuckled and leaned back further forgetting momentarily the pyramid of apples behind him till they were dislodged with his elbow and came raining down on him. When he finally emerged from the torrential downpour of apples on his head – she had gone. Damn. This was not how he had planned it.

* * * * *

Maisha sat down on the edge of her bed perplexed. What had just happened? Since when did random guys feed her apples at the supermarket? She could still see his smug smile in her mind’s eye and her irritation grew. She was more annoyed with herself than with him because she had noticed just how cute he was. In the minute they had spoken, she had inhaled his scent, noticed his shiny black hair, his strong athletic build and the naughty sparkle in his eye that had made her catch her breath. She shook her head irritably, what had gotten over her? She didn’t even know this guy!

The next morning Maisha had to run for her bus to work and slid into the nearest empty seat, breathless and not noticing the passenger in the seat next to her. It didn’t take long though for her to smell the spicy scent of male proximity and she turned her head to meet the same sparkling eyes from last night. ‘Holy crap!’ The words escaped her lips and she jumped out of her seat ready to flee. He quickly clasped her arm and sat her down next to him, leaning over to whisper conspiratorially in her ear.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I was you, it’s a long ride and there aren’t any more seats.’ She yanked her arm away and glared at him.

‘Who are you and why are you following me?’

‘Me? Following you?! I am just on my way to work.’ With that he slid on his aviators and turned away from her to look out the window. Taken aback by his off handedness, Maisha warily stayed seated and soon promptly fell asleep as the bus wound its way slowly through traffic towards the city centre. She woke to a gentle hand moving her hair and whispering in her ear. As she smelt his scent and opened her eyes, her heart did a little flip at his lips so close to hers.

‘Wakey wakey, as much as I would like to stay like this, my stop is almost here.’ He watched in amusement as she leapt away from him and blushed at the realisation that she had fallen asleep on his shoulder. ‘It’s ok, first time is free, next time… you won’t get off so lightly.’ And with that he stepped nimbly past her and was off the bus and walking away before she had time to register what had happened.

* * * * *

‘What the hell?! And you have no idea who he is? Man this is so cool!’ Suhana sounded way too excited for what was essentially a creepy story so Sohel balanced it out.

‘Are you sure he’s not some sexual predator or something?’

‘Yeah of course she is, he comes with a sign saying, “I’m harmless”. How is she supposed to know? But so far he sounds pretty hot to me!’

‘Of course he does, they all do to your frustrated self, till they break your heart.’

‘Oh wow, did ickle Sohel forget to take his meds today? PMSing? That time of the month?’

‘How come when you say that to me, it’s ok. But when I say it to you all hell breaks loose? It actually makes sense because you are a girl and I am not!’

‘Then stop acting like one!’

‘Guys. Guys!’ Maisha cut in before their argument got physical and sighed in exasperation. ‘What do I do? I don’t know anything about him and he keeps popping up!’

‘Chill. Let him pop up, play it cool. See what he’s about and then go with the flow. No biggie.’ Suhana advised as she popped a chip in her mouth. ‘Man these are so good, diet starts tomorrow.’

‘I agree.’ Sohel said as he also took a chip. ‘About the guy and about the chips.’


Her eyes swept the bus as soon as she got on and she was surprised to feel her heart drop a little when he was nowhere to be seen. She didn’t know anything about him so why was she looking forward to meeting him again? ‘He could be a serial killer for all you know Maisha so forget about him.’ She berated herself quietly as the bus wound its way back home.


Maisha rang the bell when she got home expecting her mum to open the door, fully prepared to tell her how tired she was and that she was going straight to bed. It had been a long stressful day at work. Instead she was face to face with the eyes full of mischief that had started to come into her mind unbidden. Open mouthed she stood on her doorstep unable to move.

‘Well hello there! We were wondering when you would be coming home.’ He took her arm gently and guided her inside, his voice full of amusement.

‘What in the world are you doing in my house?! Who ARE you?!’ Maisha had had enough. She had had a long and stressful day and this .. this mystery man mocking her was the last thing she needed. She hated how her brain had registered his spicy scent, his proximity and had turned to mush.


‘Maisha? Are you home? Oh good, have you met? This is Adnan. Adnan, Maisha.’ Maisha looked at her mum uncomprehending as she gushed on about Adnan and took her into the living room to meet his parents. Suddenly, she realised what this was and she was not happy. She pulled her mother into the hallway and hissed angrily.

‘Did they come to see me? Why didn’t you tell me? How long has the guy known?’

‘They are here to see you but very informally. I tried calling you but you said you were busy so I didn’t get a chance to tell you. I think he’s known for a week now? Why are you so upset? Didn’t you tell us to look for a guy for you? Now go and get changed and freshen up. Wear that new salwar kameez. You can help me with dinner’ With that her mum glided back into the living room all smiles as an irritated Maisha stomped off to her room.


Adnan looked around him and looked at his watch for the fifth time. This was not good, Maisha had been gone a whole 20 minutes. Why wasn’t she coming back? Was she mad at him? He missed her pretty face already. He leaned over to her mum and politely enquired about the bathroom. He got up and walked out of the living room looking furtively around him for any sight of her. So occupied was he in trying to find her that he didn’t see her till she opened the bathroom door and smacked right into him. Impulsively his arms went around to steady her and he heard her draw a sharp breath and lean into him. She smelled like vanilla and strawberries and her wet hair dripped on his shirt making him weak in the knees. He drew her closer and looked into her startled eyes.


‘Pintu! Where are you?’ His mum’s voice reverberated around the house and she came looking for him and broke their reverie. Maisha quickly pushed him away and smirked.


‘Yeah. My nickname. Unfortunately.’ He blushed as he reluctantly let her go and stepped away from her. This wasn’t going to plan at all. As his mum came into view she quickly slid past him into her room and shut the door. Adnan sighed and followed his mum back to the living room.


‘Bhabi, why don’t we give the kids some time to talk by themselves? What do you think?’ The uncle who suggested this had always been a favourite of Maisha’s but right now she was annoyed that they had all conspired against her and gotten this guy into her house and right under her skin. She stiffened, her hand paused mid-air as she served the sweets at the table. Adnan noticed her nervousness and his heart sank. This wasn’t how he had wanted this to be at all. He had seen her photo two weeks ago and something about her deep eyes and beautiful smile had tugged at his heartstrings. When he saw her on his bus a few days later, the tug became a certifiable pull and he had told his mum to proceed with the proposal and specifically requested that Maisha not be told. He had wanted to surprise her, woo her, make her heart race the way she did his. But watching her frown now he was afraid he had lost his chance.


They sat nervously opposite each other in silence and he watched her sneak glances at him out of the corner of her eye. Taking a deep breath he decided to give it one last shot.

‘I hope you don’t have a bad impression of me.’

‘I don’t have any impression of you. I don’t know you.’

‘I wanted you to get to know me before we met like this.’

‘By creeping up on me and shoving fruit in my mouth?’

‘I was trying to be funny.’

‘Trying would be the key word.’


They sat in silence for a while and Maisha wondered why she was being so mean to him. She was just about to speak up and break the uncomfortable silence when he spoke first.

‘I am sorry you feel that way. I only want to say one thing and then I’ll leave. That nice uncle over there sent your picture to mum two weeks ago. For that I will be forever grateful. I took one look at that picture and I felt something. Before you call me crazy – don’t worry I am not saying it was love, but it was definitely a tug and then a few days later I saw you on the bus and that tug became stronger. I wanted to get to know you, meet you, talk with you and then do this meeting so that you wouldn’t be uncomfortable but you know how parents can be.’

Maisha sat speechless as his impassioned rhetoric and could only nod her head. Was this really happening to her?

‘I’m not asking you for much, just a chance to get to know each other and see if it could lead to something more. I don’t want to put any pressure on you and I hope we can stay friends.’ With that, he got up and walked away.


* * * * * *


‘Wait so it’s been 2 weeks and nothing?!’ Suhana looked at her in amazement as Maisha finished telling her about Adnan.

‘Nothing. I thought he would meet me on the bus again or call but no. I guess he got over whatever ‘tug’ he felt’ She said bitterly, annoyed at herself for being upset at this when it was partly her own fault. Ok, wholly her fault. But what else she meant to do but push away a creepy guy like that? Even if he had a nice smile and she couldn’t get his eyes out of her head.

‘Did you ask your parents?’

‘No. I didn’t want them to think I was interested.’

‘Why not?’

Maisha paused. Why not indeed?

Maisha pressed the bell and waited at the doorstep, recalling the time Adnan had opened the door and rendered her speechless. She really did want to meet him again. As her mum let her in she couldn’t help herself and blurted out, ‘That guy that was here a few weeks ago, has there been any news?’

‘What news?’

‘Like have they said anything?’

‘They said they were waiting on you to say something which is why we’ve all been waiting’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?!’

‘I thought you knew? Isn’t that what you and Adnan spoke about that day? He gave me his number and said he would wait for your call.’

‘Can I have it then?’


‘His number!’ Maisha’s mum laughed at her daughter’s impatience and gave her a hug.

‘Yes of course but come inside and rest first.


* * * * * *




‘yeah um hi?’


‘Don’t you want to know who this is?’

‘I know who ‘this’ is Maisha.’

‘How do you .. oh you have my number?’

‘No. I waited for your call.’

‘I didn’t know’

‘I’m glad you finally got around to it.’

‘I’m glad you’re glad… Pintu. What a lovely name you have.’

As giggled as he groaned and continued their banter, Maisha thanked God silently. Regardless of how this turned out, this was exactly what she needed. A new journey, a new beginning. And as for the ending – well she had a good feeling it was going to be a happy one.


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Stained Silver Shoes

The first thing she saw when she woke up was the wind chime singing softly in the breeze. The glass prisms were sharp yet exquisite. Along the edges of the clear prisms were dark vibrant red stains, which glinted in the sunlight and illuminated the room. She sat up in her bed and stared at it. What had made the stains? Was it ink? Why couldn’t she remember? She stared at the windowpane against which it was gently bumping. Her eyes panned the room, searching for what she knew not. The room was as it should be, sparsely furnished, a recliner, a dresser, a bed and a trunk leaning against the wall of the far side. Her trunk.

She walked to the window. There was something she must do, yet the unknown task seemed impossible, the rays reflected off the wind chime, compelling her to turn away, yet her body refused, her eyes would not be turned away, no matter how blinding the light. She had to know. Even as she reinforced this, her body sagged, incredibly exhausted, into the recliner.

“You know where Annette’s headed for don’t you? I’m sorry but it’s irrevocable.” She sat up with a start. Annette. ‘That’s me.’ Annette walked over to the dresser; the chipped old mirror reflected an image she was afraid to behold. Yet she must, she must know and it would help her remember what she must do. Hair once shiny and sleek now limp and tangled. Lips once full and exotic, now dry and insignificant. Annette turned away, went to her trunk. She took off the lid and peered in.

“Touch it, isn’t it divine? I just know Lydia will love it.” Annette picked up the sweater and rubbed the soft fabric against her pallid cheeks. I love it too, escaped from her mouth, however no one heard. The room was empty and large, too big for a lonely girl. Annette took out all her belongings and lined them up in rows, and rows on the floor. Clothes, books, make-up, CD’s, and shoes … she picked up the glimpse of silver at the bottom of the trunk.

She stared at the silver, ‘My shoes, my shoes. What? How did that get there?’ her hands started to shake, slowly at first yet increasingly disturbing until she grasped one hand with the other and from her crouch fell to the floor with an almost inaudible sob. Her eyes were shut tight and little rivulets of tears were running unchecked across her nose. The nurse found her thus, curled up in the fetal position, and dried tears on her cheeks and a deep red imprint on her lower lip. The silence in the room was unbearable to the nurse. She expelled a deep breath, which roused Annette.

“Come on honey, here we go.” The nurse cooed as she gently carried the weeping girl and her silver shoes to her bed and backed out of the room fearfully. The sound of a door closing and one click, then another. Soft footfalls echoed down the hall. Footsteps. Soft and light as a baby’s. Lydia’s. Annette needed no jolt of the memory as her sobs increased in volume and the footfalls increased in rapidity. Annette’s eyes closed in a fear she couldn’t avoid.

‘Rock a bye baby on the tree top…come on Lydia close those eyelids.’ Annette muttered to her baby sister as she rocked her gently to and fro. Lydia would not stop crying. So Annette rocked faster, and faster and faster, till Annette and Lydia were spinning in one big blurry movement.

Two gasping breaths, one sharp cry, then one gasping breath.

Then silence.

Annette looked around, the room was still spinning and she stumbled around like a blind person, groping for support. Support was a slick and sticky windowpane. Annette shut her eyes tightly and listened. Only one person breathing. Her eyes flashed open. Red splattered the wall and the clear winking wind chime was now doused in a vibrant red. The pointy end of a prism was missing. Annette held her breath. The blood rushed to her head and her lungs screamed for air. She could not breathe. Her hands, which had spun her baby sister around only minutes before were now empty.

Horrified Annette looked fearfully down at the prone figure of her little baby sister Lydia. A clear white piece of glass was embedded in her forehead, a piece of the prism, which was rapidly turning red. Annette exhaled loudly. It seemed vulgar to be breathing. Annette took down the wind chime and cradled it in her hands. A drop released from the edge of the prism fell down to the floor… no, on to her favourite pair of silver shoes, a dark red stain mocked her with its impudent colour and vitality. A sudden and fierce satisfaction overwhelmed her. The bloody, unprecedented accident screamed murder to her own ears. She didn’t care. If it wasn’t an accident, it would have been murder for all she cared. She was once more centre stage. Only now, it would be forever.

She laughed. Long and loud and hung the wind chime back up. It seemed as if her soul had escaped with that laugh. An impetuous calm filled her senses and she disappeared to the bathroom, emerging with a towel. She wiped the body, the floor and the windowpane. She left the wind chime stained. Sudden footsteps compelled her to freeze in her work. She picked up the body and faced the door. It opened and she thrust the body forward, a smile on her haggard face.

Annette now lay on her bed, an immobile figure with an endless stream of unchecked tears exploring her face. Her pallid cheeks had become red and hot. “See the stain, you know what it is don’t you…” a lady had remarked to her companion in derisive tones as Annette walked past. As she lay sobbing, Annette felt her soul returning.

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Insightful story…

A group of children were playing near two railway tracks, one still in use while the other disused. Only one child played on the disused track, the rest on the operational track.

The train is coming, and you are just beside the track interchange. You can make the train change its course to the disused track and save most of the kids. However, that would also mean the lone child playing by the disused track would be sacrificed. Or would you rather let the train go its way?    

Let’s take a pause to think what kind of decision we could make……..

Most people might choose to divert the course of the train, and sacrifice only one child. You might think the same way, I guess. Exactly, to save most of the children at the expense of only one child was rational decision most people would make, morally and emotionally. But, have you ever thought that the child choosing to play on the disused track had in fact made the right decision to play at a safe place?

Nevertheless, he had to be sacrificed because of his ignorant friends who chose to play where the danger was. This kind of dilemma happens around us everyday. In the office, community, in politics and especially in a democratic society, the minority is often sacrificed for the interest of the majority, no matter how foolish or ignorant the majority are, and how farsighted and knowledgeable the minority are. The child who chose not to play with the rest on the operational track was sidelined. And in the case he was sacrificed, no one would shed a tear for him.

The great critic Leo Velski Julian who told the story said he would not try to change the course of the train because he believed that the kids playing on the operational track should have known very well that track was still in use, and that they should have run away if they heard the train’s sirens.. If the train was diverted, that lone child would definitely die because he never thought the train could come over to that track! Moreover, that track was not in use probably because it was not safe. If the train was diverted to the track, we could put the lives of all passengers on board at stake! And in your attempt to save a few kids by sacrificing one child, you might end up sacrificing hundreds of people to save these few kids.

While we are all aware that life is full of tough decisions that need to be   made, we may not realize that hasty decisions may not always be the right one.

‘Remember that what’s right isn’t always popular… and what’s popular isn’t always right.’  

Everybody makes mistakes; that’s why they put erasers on pencils.

“The Best way to Escape from a Problem is to Solve it”

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A sad story.

Story time: Once upon a time there was an island where all the ‘feelings’ lived together. One day a storm began brewing in the sea and the island was getting dangerously flooded.

Every feeling was scared and to save them, Love made a boat on which they could escape. Every feeling got into the boat except one. Love got down to see which feeling it was that wouldn’t get on the boat. It was Ego.

Love tried and tried but ego did not move! Everyone asked Love to leave him and get on the boat as the island started to flood, but “Love was meant to love” and it remained wth Ego.

All the other feelings left alive but “Love died because of Ego.”

Sad story!! Let’s all say bye to irrational EGO!

Author of concept – unknown… language spruced up by moi

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The Red Balloon

The red balloon. That was the title our teacher had given us to write a story to write for creative writing. I closed my eyes. It sometimes helps me concentrate. I don’t quite know what happened next, but I was fast asleep.

Soon I was having a dream, I was flying through the air and in my outstretched right hand I was holding a bright red balloon. It was pretty weird but the fact that the balloon was talking to me was even weirder.

The balloon said, “Hello! My name is Red. I’m a flying balloon and I’m here to take you for a ride. Now where do you want to go?”

“Well…” I said thoughtfully “could you take me to see the Seven Wonders of the World?

“Okay no problem. Which one do you want to see first?”

“Well how about the Taj Mahal?”

And so we were off, from the splendid Taj Mahal to the beautiful hanging

Garden of Babylon. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen but

Red said to wait for the pyramids which were even better.

At The great Pyramids I asked Red if we could have some lunch. He brought me down and I went to one of the food stalls next to the tall, proud and grim looking Pyramids.

I started to pick up some fruit while still holding Red with my other hand, when I heard a shrill high-pitched scream. It was coming from the stall owner in front of me. “What’s wrong?” I started to say when Red exclaimed excitedly

“I’m so sorry I forgot to tell you when we started off, as long as your holding on to me you and whatever you touch are invisible. So now you touched the fruit and the whole stall became invisible just like us!!”

“Awesome!!” I yelled “Let’s try something else…something big!!!”

 We both looked at a pyramid and then at each other, then we flew over to the pyramid and I touched the very tip of the Pyramid and waited. We didn’t have to wait long before we heard another shrill scream. “Look everybody, come quickly! For one of our beautiful Pyramids have vanished!!” As soon as we could see people running over to the foot of our Pyramid I quickly took my hand off.

” Where! Which Pyramid has vanished ?” I heard a grey bearded man shout.

Some one else said, “What are you talking about? All the Pyramids are here!”

“Let’s take him to a doctor their might be something wrong with him….up here” Mr. Grey beard said to the others in a quiet whisper, pointing to his head.

Red and I laughed and laughed. It was so funny watching them take the poor guy away.

After a delicious Egyptian meal, we headed off for the Big Ben and we tried the same thing on Big Ben as we did on the pyramid.

This time we heard more screams and an old lady fainted. I felt so sorry for the old lady that I took my hand off and said to Red “Let’s get out of here!” We had a little snack of junk food but Red acted like he was my mother and wouldn’t let me eat very much, so I told him to hurry and go to Italy where I could have some Italian Pasta.

The Leaning tower of Pisa was a remarkable sight and I could not even begin to tell you how scrumptious the pasta was! We watched an Italian dance; well I think it was a dance because I fell asleep in the middle of it!

I woke up to the sound of giggling and someone patting vigorously on my shoulder. “Young lady if you think school is so boring you should stay at home! Now get up and it’s off to the principal’s office for you! “It was Ms Crank yelling at me.

So that was my day, getting in trouble for sleeping in class, a big lecture from Mr. Watkinson and the topping was getting grounded from my parents. I was so upset, I just couldn’t understand if I was dreaming or if all my adventures had been real.

And then I found a letter on my desk it read:

Dear Pamela:

I’m very sorry for the inconvenience I caused you by dropping you off at school like that, but something important came up and I had to go. Will make up for it some other time. Very sorry…


Do you really think so was I really flying or was it just a dream?

[Grade 6, 1997]

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Petra the playful Pixie

Once upon a time in a land not so far away in a small forest where the grass was always green and the birds were always chirping, there lived a small pixie named Petra. Petra was always out and about causing mischief around town. Her mother was always hearing complaints about her naughty tricks.

Petra loved to laugh at others. She watched Fern the fairy who lived down the lane put up her beautiful white lace tablecloth on the washing line and sprayed it with bright blue ink. When Fern came outside and cried at the sight of her ruined tablecloth, Petra just laughed.

The naughty Pixie skipped down the road and hid outside a small brown garden gate. Soon enough, Ignatius the impish imp walked slowly down his garden path and paused to close the gate. Petra sneakily stuck out her foot and Ignatius tripped over and fell face down in the mud. Petra giggled and ran away. Tripping people over was so much fun!

While Petra poured glue into the shoes the fairies and pixies had left outside the door, the fairies sat inside and wondered what could be done to teach Petra a lesson. “We should stop playing with her” said a fairy who kept scratching herself because Petra had put itching powder in her clothes.

“No, that will just make her play more tricks” said another pixie whose hat had insects stapled to it.

“We should play tricks on her so she knows what it’s like.” sniffed a tiny pixie whose pretty little dress was splattered with mud because Petra had scared her and made her trip into the mud.

And so the fairies and pixies planned to play tricks on Petra. They sprayed water on her through her bedroom window and broke her sleep, they cut holes in her stockings as she got ready for school, they puts rocks in her schoolbag when she went out to play, and the whole day, not one single fairy or pixie spoke a word to poor Petra.

When Petra’s mother opened the door that afternoon, she found Petra crying on the doorstep. “What’s wrong my little munchkin?” said Petra’s mom as Petra cried in her lap

“I don’t know mommy, all the fairies and pixies are being so mean to me. I feel horrible!” And so Petra told her mother all about the mean tricks everyone had played on her that day.

When she finished, Petra’s mother wiped her tears and said gently, “Now do you know how they feel when you play your tricks on them? They only want you to realise that sometimes you can take a joke too far and then it isn’t funny anymore.”

Petra nodded slowly and went outside where all her friends were waiting. “I’m sorry for playing mean tricks on you all. I promise to be good from now on.”

And from that day onwards, Petra and her friends lived happily in a forest where the grass was always green and the birds were always chirping, in a forest not so very far away.

[May 2010]

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Many Evils

You’ve probably been told that the many evils of life include drugs, alcohol, violence and insanity. But at my age, I can safely reflect and say they’ve always worked for me. At ten in the morning I am stoned and drunk and having cracked my head against the bathroom wall last night, I was in no mood for conversation. I took my corrosive cup of coffee into the darkened living room and sat nursing my head when the door bell rang.

It was her. I knew it would be.

‘Hey, you look a bit under the weather, what’s up? And you’re not dressed yet, aren’t you coming to –’

My racking cough stopped her mid sentence and she smiled that crooked, lips slightly parted, ‘I’m nervous’ smile that she always, always smiled whenever she was around me. If she was so nervous around me then why was she so persistent? Why did she come around every morning? I had to put a stop to her curiosity; I couldn’t have her nosing around like she did every morning for another day, who knows when she would decide to tell someone else? She might tell her stupid giggling blonde friends at those white collar pajama parties that they have where they play the blandest game of truth or dare and they all eat apples and muesli bars as snacks and brush their teeth before they go to sleep at ten-thirty, when the night is still young.

I could see the hunger in her eyes as they roamed over my disheveled appearance and flicked around my head trying to see into the house, the cogs in her brain were making grinding noises loud enough to be heard in the next street, making notes and analyzing what I could possibly have been up to last night. She had no idea. I just might let her know. 

‘oh, y’no, had a bit ova rough night las’ night might skip today, so hey you wanna come in side for a bit?’ I watched her closely as I spoke and heard the cogs slowing down in her head, hesitating, torn between that animal curiosity and the ingrained teachings of her polished finishing school. Her eyes searched my face and came on rest on mine. Her pale blue irises pierced through my dull brown iris and burned my retina with a searching intensity I could not endure; I turned away and motioned for her to follow. As I advanced through the house, I lit the lights in the hallway and the living room, the heavy velvet drapes blocking out all natural light and retaining all artificial light. I cocked my ears and surely enough I heard the dainty clicks of her high heeled shoes as she warily wandered into the lion’s den.

I watched the blood run, scurrying away from her, released in one fluid motion by sparkling steel on porcelain skin, liberated from the confines of her skin a river of rose red rushed towards me, the generous benefactor. I was fascinated and sat spellbound, scrutinizing the stunning swells and the calm waves of the river as it flowed without restraint, madly onto the lush cream carpeting of the living room floor in perfect harmony to the rich crimson velvet drapes which blocked out all natural light and retained the artificial.

She was in shock, her eyes opened to their widest extent. To die at such a young age is bliss. I am twelve and I do not wish to live to see thirteen. Oh well, I did not care, It was enough for me that she was no longer smiling that pathetic crooked, lips slightly parted, ‘I’m nervous’ smile that she always, always smiled whenever she was around me.

[July 2009]

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