Down the road she went…

down the road she went

with a letter in her hand,

summoning the post master,

she told him of her predicament-

he who was gone to war

had not returned back,

what had appeared was a sheet

smeared with a blood like seal,

she who could not read a single word

plead before the kind gentleman

to tell her what it contained,

 ~

the bespectacled man read carefully

and told her, her son was well,

that was what the letter said

while he faced away from her,

he handed back to her the sheet

and confirmed that her son was fine,

he had reached his final abode,

away, safe from war and hunger,

 ~

she shrieks, cries, wails, screams,

clutching the collar of his shirt,

and befell on her knees,

praying for who was never to return,

he supported her up and

they looked at each other,

waiting for the other one to

break that ominous silence

but it remained all still

while the sun dipped into the sea,

leaving behind a trace of red tinge.

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Bruised

 

She was bruised.

“You have come so late. Where have you been?”

She silently drifted towards her room without answering and latched the door. And there she fell at that very position on her knees and the tears welled up in her eyes. Her mouth gaped open and a muffled voice of shock escaped her mouth. She bit on the curtain so as to prevent her wail be heard by anyone.

She was retching. She ran towards the washroom while bile rose up in the back of her mouth and she puked her miseries out.

She couldn’t believe what had happened with her.

“It is my fault.” She wiped away what was left of her mascara and lipstick and rubbed her papery white skin. The tears had dried out. She clawed at her face.

“It is my fault.” She faced the mirror.

“I am bruised and it is my fault.”

* Written in response of VisDare 27.

“Baby…”

Under the star light, he silently moved towards her.

She was sitting on the pier, gazing at the ripples of water, appearing on the sea surface. They were on a vacation and he was in a weird mood all the time.

“Baby”

She heard his voice and looked back. He had a sharp knife, clenched in his left hand with a mad look in his eyes. She was speechless, her mouth gasped open. Coming back to her senses, she shrieked.

“Listen, baby”

She wailed a long cry for help.

Lights switched on and people came pouring out, some spreading torchlight to brighten the night in front of them.

“What?”
“What happened?”
“Who was that?”
“Did you hear…?”
“Mom, I am afraid.”
“Hey, do you know?”

Rushing towards the location, they saw the entire scene; a mad man with a knife going to kill a young woman.

“Hey…,” a brave man moved ahead, talking to the man with the knife, “Throw that away. You can’t do anything to her now.”

“But…”

“Throw it away.”

He threw it away.

“And what is in you right hand. What are you hiding?”

He brought his hand forward to show a chocolate cake, resting on his palm.

A wave of shock fell across the peering crowd and the muttering started again.

“It is for my wife. It is her birthday; so I brought across a cake for her to cut down under the celestial light. It was a surprise,” he meekly said and started to cry.

.

* Written in response of the Trifecta Challenge: Light

the indeterminate sky

he roared with laughter

and the thunder rumbled,

a shine glazed his eyes

and the lightening strikes again,

he wept in joy

and sweet droplets peter down,

he cried a lover’s melancholy

and the great tears descend,

he wailed a mother’s fear

and the drops solidified,

he hollered in pain of despondency

and the tempest turns up

begetting mayhem and annihilation,

he is powerful,

formidable he is,

the king of the heavens,

the seed of the mother earth,

the father of the titans,

the eldest of all,

the indeterminate sky.

*Written in response to Personification prompt

Homemaker

He was about to go out when she interrupted, “Best of Luck for the meeting. Come, I will get for you a bowl of curd and sugar for good luck.”

“Don’t you know I don’t like to be called while going out,” he sneered.

“I am just asking you to do so for your own success,” she reasoned.

“Please don’t think about me and do your own work,” he angrily replied, “I haven’t married you so that you could become a hassle for me.”

“I am just trying to keep you happy,” she said in a teary voice.

“If you want to keep me happy, just do what you are asked to do.”
“And don’t cry in front of me.”

“A burden… yes, that is what she is,” he mumbled to himself, leaving for the office, without giving a single glance to his weeping wife.

“Why?”
“Why can’t he love me?”
“Why can’t he just accept me?”
“I was not married off to live a life like this.”

She cried and asked the open air, these questions and then cried even more.

Wiping away her tears after a few minutes, “I must not let these thoughts come to my mind,” she told herself.

“These are demonic thoughts.”
“I must respect my husband. He is everything I have got.”
“I should try harder to please him and continue to do so even if he doesn’t pay any attention towards me.”
“I am a wife and I must fulfill my duty as the homemaker.”

She had all but forgotten the ill-treatment she was subjected to by her own husband and went off to the kitchen to prepare the meal for the day.

A scarlet painting on the sky…

A scarlet painting on the sky

dotted with the white wisps of cloud

like the blood that taints the shroud

of the corpse with a smile so wry

 

one could hear the sound of the cry

emanating somewhere from the crowd

dotted with the white wisps of cloud

a scarlet painting on the sky

 

the corpse’s skin would wither by

but what about the promise he vowed

the seed, in the womb of his love, he sowed

towards the sky, gaze upon, her eye

a scarlet painting on the sky.