We, the team Potliwale Baba, are writing a fictional story as a part of #CelebrateBlogging – Game of Blogs.
She’s cold and she’s silent
With a gasp from her mouth
She’s so still
She’s mounted on the ground
Drops are falling
As she bleeds on out
Laying there so silent
They’ll never find it out
Humming the poem of Jessica Murray, the shadow washed hands of Naina’s blood in the kitchen sink, till the last drop of blood has been washed away.
The shadow kept looking at the water gushing down the sink. As if it was in some sort of trance. Was this intentional? Probably not. But ironical yes. ‘….deep down in my heart.’
The end of you.
Is what you’ll see.
Now in the grave.
We see you go.
It is too late?
Was this your fate?
You died in woe.
You got your wish.
But you still miss.
The end of us.
I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be. This was the only way out. Sometimes it feels like walking on the broken glasses. But I keep walking. But I keep walking knowing there will be no end to the glass and no end to this pain.
The pain I must endure.
Trailing in the alley, I hope I didn’t go too far. Catching shadows in the dark. Lost in silence of darkness, for sight I’d wish a spark, instead I’m fearing shadows in the dark.
The blood drips and it covers the ground. Your scream, such beautiful sounds. It just mixes in, and the war has begun. Blood stained floor, you see where sorrow and anger meet. He stood in the dark, in gazing rage. She collapsed to the ground, and you sat there, helpless, engaged. The steel slides into the flesh and your soul is torn, indeed it was a mistake to be born. Quietly you will gasp, for one breath at last. The world knows no better, it has always deprived of what I truly deserve.
What’s it like when people stare? Are they aware of the pain they inflict; or, do they just not care? Will it matter if you look back at them and glare? Is it my fault that I was born this way? I never fit in, and I have always been ignored. Thank you, for your contempt, for they have molded me, shaped me. And I am left, an unsolved puzzle, wanting to fit it, still just as desperately.
The shadow sat in the corner while all the commotion was going on, and started to write…
The shadow suddenly got off the trance and walked out of the kitchen. Went out and mixed with the crowd as if nothing has happened.
And it started to write…
The world looks better than it is.
Even dying, it looks desirable.
Everyone dies, though, few know true love.
Even fewer know love, the way I know you.
Till death do we start!
Stay tuned for the next chapter
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