Thursday, January 28, 2010

Primal showdown- lily

The beach house.
It was a chilly night. The sea was infuriated, beating on the rocks below seeking attention. It ravaged wildly on three sides around him clearly stark raving mad. As it savored the strength imbibed in it by the moon, something else shared its grant. And it had no idea. While it was glowering on the outside and peaceful inside, he was the exact opposite. As a writer would like to say, this was the eye of the storm.
The sky was cloudy sporting a medicine blue aura, bar one big white dot and many smaller twinkling miniatures.
He was cold. His fingers were numb and his eyes were dead. He was shivering hysterically. His hands lay in his pockets seeking the warmth that wasn’t there. His handsome face stricken with lines of unparalleled normalcy tried not to hide what had happened of his smile. The same face that could melt a woman’s heart with a bare muscle was now an axiom of betrayal. All it bore was nothingness. To one close to him it was alarming. To one afar it was in line with the common customs followed by the general accreditations and droids.
He looked at the moon out of habit. It was their sign of love. On nights like these when they couldn’t be together, they used to whisper to it for a while as if talking to each other. But tonight she was off.
The moon stuck out like a fish on a pole or a mole on a pretty face. Lily’s face. Lily’s mole. The left cheek tender and slightly wet with his soft kiss. His arms around her neck tracing the commencement of her bosom as he kissed the mole from behind her.
If only memories were a thread he could break and forget. He never heard the footsteps behind him. Or the joyous shouts that celebrated the wedding of his beloved to a close friend. So this is how close they were. He never even heard his own heart break the shackles that bound him and reach her. And now she was right behind him on the next rock. What the hell he thought, he could even sense her.
“You always were hot.”
“I should have been cold.”
“It wouldn’t have made a difference.”
“It would. I wouldn’t have been blind and faithful.”
“I always liked you.”
She stepped up behind him as he hoped she would just slip and fall.
“Was it easy Lily? Being with him and me at the same time?”
“You were always easy. Fun, good to be with and lovable.”
“But you don’t love me.”
“I don’t love you in the way you want me too.”
“Then what way do you love me in? The way where you love me and marry my best friend? James doesn’t even know about us.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I am sorry. I am sorry for all that happened.”
“Don’t be sorry for that. Be sorry for being who you are. And you know exactly what you are.”
There was a pause as he decided to not continue.
“I didn’t want it this way either.”
“Face it you are the one who is making it this way.”
Correcting himself, “made it this way”
“I don’t know what to say.”
He took his hand out of his pocket and said,
“I have something for you”
She inched closer not knowing what to think or expect.
He held her hand, put something cold in it and closed her fingers. Her hand felt warm he noticed. The physical contact was still mesmerizing he noticed. He hated her so much he wanted to strangle her he noticed. And it took everything inside him to not.
She opened her hand. Inside it was a ring. She recognized it as the one she had liked window shopping.
“It isn’t a diamond.”
“But you are.”
“Lily, go before I hurt you. I can’t feel my hands and that’s the only reason I am not strangling you right now. Don’t make me do something I regret later. Don’t make me hurt me.”
She handed him the ring and turned to go.
“Lily, I still love you. And I always will. Remember that.”
“I will.” She never quite said it but she meant it.
She walked past him towards the beach house.
Once she was gone, he jumped. And as he did, he died.
Or so he thought. It is a strong belief that love doesn’t die, merely lovers do. If that were to be the case, can the exact opposite of the anomaly take a different path? If the mirror is coexistent with the image, does the creator of both have any say in the existence of the object in picture? Love cannot die. Then what is it that survives once all of it is choked out? Can it die? Is it as sensitive or just as insensitive? Is it good or pure evil? Can the word hatred define it? Can faith be wrong? Or is reality just one big misty illusion?
Wet. Cold. Strong. Intensely alive. He stepped out of the sea a new leaf. A dry one. One on which dew doesn’t settle. His hands weren’t numb. His eyes weren’t wet. His heartbeat wasn’t slow. He wasn’t hurt anymore. He wasn’t human anymore. As the music from the speakers reached his cocked ears he howled with ecstasy.
One boy saw it all. He stood outside the cabin enjoying his smoke. The cloud cover lifted exposing the moon at about the same time as his smoke took flight. For a moment his iris’s contracted and all was clear. The moon, the sea and the beast. His back was to him and as his eyes traced the outline of his neck, shoulders and biceps ending at his paws all shrouded in maybe fur this animal surged for power. The cigarette fell from his hand onto the sand below. He couldn’t move. And his eyes wide with shock took in all. They fell from the hands to the back and the tail. His legs were those of footballers, the calves extreme. As one huge wave welcomed him perhaps by its own annihilation on the throne he stood on, he howled. The howl put some sense into him as he ran into the beach house. There he shouted wildly in a trance but when the music is so loud all you can hear is the track. Your heartbeat may just die out and you won’t even know. The lights went off. The music stopped. And his voice was the one sound booming into the night. The waves splashed at a distance merry making. The whole house was dark. And the hero of darkness was on his way.
A few candles were ignited. Initially the reaction of the people was that of amusement. But as tears slipped down his cheeks comprehension was unavoidable. There was chaos. A few ran outside and the rest bolted the doors from inside. A couple got to their cars. One started fumbling with the car keys. The other fired the engine and reversed. He switched gears and jammed the accelerator but his car didn’t move. His front wheels were running violently but his vehicle was stationery. Fearing the worst he glanced at his rear view mirror. He saw eyes. And then he saw nothing. The sparks coming out of the friction created between the wheels and the road met oil and the engine exploded. The beast raised the car into the air as it burned and thrashed it into the ground.
The keys fell from her hand as she saw the beast. Almost in slow motion she saw his head turn towards him. Without thinking she made a dash towards the house. Just a few feet she thought to himself. She heard the charge behind him but kept running. Till he was onto her and her nose hit the road. There was a pain in her back increasing to nothing.
Inside all eyes were on the werewolf. They knew what he was now. And he wasn’t just another species. As he tore at the last man outside they stepped away from the windows and the doors as if it could save them.
And then there was silence. The waves had stopped applauding. The only ovation now was the breathing. Their breathing. They all seemed to realize it at once and hushed. There was no point in climbing the stairs to the next floor. The two floored apartment had once been the pride of a general. Rock established its bottom floor and glass adorned the upper. Heels clicked as one fine lady decided to skip it. She climbed the steps and locked the balcony door. As she turned she heard a loud thud behind her in the balcony. And he was standing there. Below almost soundlessly each one searched for a weapon that might save a life, namely their own. And above they stood sharing the inevitable. All that separated them was a thin glass door neither could break owing to something that existed in both animals. She looked into his eyes and saw herself. There was a hunger in them. A hunger for blood. Even with the wolf snout and the canines he was handsome. There was no denying it.
The clouds took their place as a curtain again momentarily and he returned to his human form.
“It is you isn’t it?”
“Yes Lily. It is me. This is what you have made me.”
The next moment he wasn’t there.
The lights returned and the music came alive once again. Suddenly what was heaven fifteen minutes ago was now irritating. The same sounds were eerie and unwanted. The same people who had been shouting for more now turned the speakers off. They were ready holding everything in their power. It’s funny how the idea of death makes you do strange things. For a while nothing happened. Maybe the night was over. Maybe they had evaded death. Slowly one of them tried to open the door. He was stopped by another. After a general vote out, they decided to check. Lily’s to be husband volunteered to check. He glanced at the top of the staircase hoping she would be there. But she wasn’t. Maybe she was just sick he thought. Maybe she was scared. Maybe she needed time to think. He had to protect her. He stepped outside without a weapon. He walked a few steps cautiously and turned around. He saw her through the glass and their eyes met for a second. And as his view shifted upwards, he saw him.
Within seconds he had pounced on him. The jump seemed to have been easy. He landed on his back with the beast on him. He tried to fight. But his arm broke. He had heard the bone shatter. And there was no feeling in the other arm. He kicked. Until his feet were pressed under the burden of vengeance. He waited for the final blow. He saw the head of the beast come down on him near the neck and felt something warm. He closed his eyes and muttered “Lily I am sorry”. After that he remembered nothing.
The door was closed again.
He focused his eyes on the door and ran headlong into it. Under his weight it broke. For a second he was stunned. He stood on his hind legs and howled gathering strength. A couple of women screamed. A couple of men ran at him hands raised ready to strike. Hungrily he slaughtered and man handled. In the midst of it one man punched him on his arm. He severed his head off. He thought to himself, how easy. Once he was done with them he put on a pair of pants. The clock on the wall read a five to twelve. He went into the kitchen. There he could smell a kid hiding inside a cupboard. He didn’t care which though. He picked up the cake and lighted the candles on it. It was Lily’s birthday. The chocolate smelled sweet. It was in the shape of an eight with lily written in its centre. The way she had always wanted it. He remembered she had told him a week ago. And for some reason even James had known. He remembered breaking his arm. He climbed the steps humming the happy birthday song. He noticed that she had turned off the lights. He could make out her figure on the bed. He walked to it and lay down next to her.
“Happy birthday Lily.”
“You were always wrong Adam.”
“What do you mean?”
“Adam there is something wrong with you. Look at you. You have blood all over you and you are smiling.”
“It’s your birthday Lily. And I am with you. I am happy. And guess what? James got you the eight shaped cake you wanted.”
“Do you know why it was eight shaped?”
“No why?”
“I am pregnant. Here show me your hand.”
She held his hand and placed it on her stomach. But something was wrong. He pulled his hand back. It was bloody.
“Lily you are bleeding.”
“Of course. I killed him.”

ps: i had this frnd. and well, we had a fight. so we arent frnds anymore. yeah awkward i guess. nyways, her b'days in abt a month and my saying anything isnt acceptable. so wish her for me with a cute little bday wish in ur coment. um..thanks.

Saturday, January 02, 2010

Werewolf. the beginning

In the middle of the ocean lay an island. It was like many others, hilly and green with a remarkable set of cloud cover in constant conversation with it. It had the same wild flowers and the gulls and the beaches and coconut trees. It had monkeys and crazy coloured parrots thriving on its many fruit bearing trees. At some point of time a small tribe of ruthless dark complexioned beings had been striving on its heavenly hallows in the midst of the jungle. Later the Englishmen had arrived and scared them away. They had left shouting curses. One frail old man had stayed behind to be slaughtered. When finally after days of praying for mercy, for death his breath left him he uttered one word. As the last breath penetrated his insides, cleansing him one last time he released a mourn. The silence he had kept forever was broken. As he struggled to complete his say and his parched lips parted, his soul drifted away. It made no sense to them. They believed he was summoning god. Little did they know that the mute old man was summoning their annihilation?

He had said Werewolf.

Their castles still stand strong after bearing the trauma of the past. The Englishmen however had disappeared too leaving behind traces and symbolizations of torment in the form of vague inscriptions on the bark of trees. The inscriptions talked about nights of torture. They dictated the arrival of a force so iniquitous and immoral that only death could ultimately silence it. Ironically, it was his beloved and followed him wherever he went. The symbols had never been shared. Storms had brewed, mountains had fallen and the message had been lost, its contents known only to the past now. History never repeats itself.
It was the night of knights. A God, straight from the womb of a dying woman had been born. The dying woman had been the Queen. Her son was to be heir. He was to have the blood and the throne of the mighty king. He was their new hero. The kingdom now had a future. Or so they thought…
A week later he opened his eyes for the first time taking in the sight of his ailing mother and the world outside the window. As she looked at him for the last and the finest moments of her life, her eyes grew wide with shock and her skin shone pallid. He had the same green eyes. The rainy night, the cottage…the stranger with the big green eyes and the same smile as the child she had just borne all flashed in front of her eyes. If only she would have listened to the voice inside her then…if only she would have resisted temptation…she took off the cross around her neck and carefully placed it around his chubby, tender body whispering ”May this protect you my son like it has protected me.”
Those were her last words as the rosary slipped from her hand and she lost count of the beads. Invariably the green eyed man had been right. Death was his shadow.
The king was surprised at the sight of his son. For one he had green eyes. And also his own hair was wavy blonde and the mother’s was flaming red…the same red he had wanted to see in his heir, his daughter. It had been the one reason he had married her. The first time he had seen her, in a simple white gown, the metal cross shining on her bosom, her hair being highlighted owing to the cloths dullness, he had wanted the same for his daughter…yet she had born him a son. A son with black hair.
As he stared at the naïve creature sleeping in his arms a sense of anger enveloped him. Although the whole kingdom had prayed for a son, he had personally wanted a daughter. He had silently hoped and believed that being closest to him; his wife would fulfill his wishes. The priest had agreed too.
A sense of incompletion stirred up inside him. He consulted the priest who confirmed his suspicions. He had lost his love to a son that wasn’t his. Blinded by contempt and rage he had tossed the weeping child from the cliff into the darkness below that night. He married again and was gifted sons again. Sons with golden hair like Mary’s and a daughter very much like him. It wasn’t the same but eventually he grew happy and satisfied.
The true heir on the other hand had survived. A wolf had found him floating in the river and saved him. Mothered and nurtured by a wolf he had been harmless.
Then on the eve of his eighteenth birthday, he encountered his father. The man smiled at him.
That night the moon had almost risen to its full bloom. As his father narrated the whole incident to him with his hands he listened. When his father slept off he starred at the moon as if waiting. As he starred, inside him a creature beckoned to him. Lost in thought, he slept. He dreamed of a cage. Inside the cage, there was nothing but darkness. The door of the cage had opened. That night was the last night of peace and life on the island.
The next night under the watchful eye of the full moon deep in the forest he outgrew his destiny. To his mother wolf he expressed everything on the bark of the trees. There were scratch marks everywhere. His mother watched as he became like her. She watched as his young body shivered and he howled with pain. She watched as his delicate skin became steel. She watched as his eyes grew red. She watched the influx of Gods very opposite. She felt his pain. She felt him grow stronger with the minute. She felt him become alive for the first time. She felt close to him now. She even saw him smile at her as if telling her…I love you mother. And then she never saw him again. And neither did she see anyone else. That night as screams pierced through the atmosphere she returned to her cave. She heard him howling with pleasure. He was taking back his share of happiness. She closed her eyes and she was inside him digging her teeth into the neck of a man. She ran after a rather fat woman and caught her by the legs. As the blood oozed out of her veins she could feel him complying to his pre-eminence. As he relished the fear he had instilled in each, as he ripped flesh apart, as he thundered after them, as he claimed what was his she closed her eyes and knew that her part was over. Her son had found his elixir. His birth was complete. He was now a man. Almost disdainfully the night gave birth to dawn. Like the walls of the castle and the tiny little houses it too was red. The sky shimmered to the events of the nights as if bowing to it.
Like they had been thrown out, the white men had been trampled. The mute old man now rested in peace.
Divine Vengeance…