Dreams come true – short contest story
I wake up with a start. It had to be a nightmare.
What else can possibly explain it?
Dazed, I glance at the clock. 4am.
Waking up scared, night after night, how long will I suffer?
I snuggle under my sleep-warmed quilt and my hand reaches out
to stroke the cold half of the bed-Empty since the last month.
All I want to do is curl up and weep.
But the tears have all dried up, sucked out from me by the same dark
angel that crushed his skull to unidentifiable pieces that evening.
I feel cold inside, without the emotions I’d gotten used to.
No rage, no love, nor any frustration to fall back on-
not even the dark solitude that despair brings.
As if they’ve all slowly trickled out and dried up, vanishing into the past.
Is this my fate? Or a passing phase?
But there are no answers.
The sky outside is still dark.
A lonely starless night is all that stares back at me.
The scars are all healing now, as if to remind me that it was all real.
My fingers lazily circle my belly
a small smile playing on my lips.
Though short lived.
Dan who always told me I thought too much
was so wrong..
What is the past to me, you ask?
It’s no more the book I loved to go back to in times of doubt and pain.
More like a bottomless lake that I can’t swim out of.
Why doesn’t it matter anymore?
I look at the clock, 4.15 am
And I thought I could cheat time.
I close my eyes. I have never felt this helpless before.
Or this lonely.
If only I could rewind the reel a little and
cut and paste “happiness” into my diary!
The phone rings. I know it’s mom.
She’s now calls me up every day.
I answer all her questions patiently, you know how it is with mothers…
I smile sadly, we never got around, in all these years,
to talking about our feelings, never even tried.
And now, it’s too late…
I walk up to the kitchen.
and heap two spoonfuls of it into my cup.
I had given up drinking coffee for the baby
No sugar for me. Not anymore.
As I wait for the milk to boil, my thoughts drift back, inevitably,
to the vivid nightmares I have been having
for over 6 months now-
A woman, heavy with child,
lying on the floor in a pool of blood,
a table lies, upturned, a few feet away.
Her face is always veiled by her long hair.
Sometimes she moans, shivers and hugs herself as though the grief was too much to bear.
Sometimes she just lies there, unmoving.
But the blood is always there.
I reach up to touch my cheek and the scar that was left there by some invisible hand of fate, but all I can feel are the tears falling down, unheeded.
Because, today she looked at me in exactly the same way I did
at my blood-stained hands that horrible morning.
And before I could escape to the safe world of the living,
a tortured plea for help broke free from the depths of her soul.
The milk has boiled over…
* * * *
Anuradha Iyer -I’m a 22 yr old student of Advertising and Marketing from India who loves to read, watch world movies, sing, cook and write in her spare time. I also am an avid lover of languages and pride myself on my French speaking and Spanish reading abilities!
Here is an another story by Anuradha – Eternal Lives.
The concept, the language, the flow are very languid.Good show.
Loved the emotional feed but left me a little confused in the end… Is she or isn’t she pregnant. What dream is coming true – the one where she is becoming a mother or where she loses her husband to the hands of a careless driver.
Amazing maturity displayed by a 22 year old.
Once again a touching story. Your writing has soul in it. Keep it up. Great work
thumbs up
Anu, you do us proud. Nice one.
heavy content! but better than the previous one! good job anu.. loved it!
A very disturbing piece… left me with a writhing pain somewhere..
Appreciate the finesse with which you’ve captured this woman’s plight, in your beautiful, melancholic words!!!
Very well-written. Heart goes out to the poor woman, am left empathizing and crying with her…v.vivid piece of writing..!
nice one again anu!!
Real good stuff. Especially the imagery.
You’ve got a good style of writing although the story seems a bit nebulous at times. The good thing is that you’re able to keep the reader interested in the story. And sometimes it’s all right to keep them guessing. Keep going, keep writing.
Leave your response!
Sign up for Short Story Book Newsletter
Our Latest Tweets
Categories
Peep in the past
Recognitions !!
Calendar
Blogroll
Tags
Current Story Rating
Latest Short Stories
Recent Stories
Most Commented
Recent Comments
Most Viewed
Short Story Lovers
Visitors: 99074 Since: June 21, 2003