The angel I waited for

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Helloooeeee guys! Long time no see? That was what I was thinking too! Since  I had become so uncreative and lazy nowadays, a friend of mine and I decided to bring back our creativity by writing a short story each. And this was my attempt at returning as a writer (though it didn’t work out that well).. Anyway, enjoy the story. 🙂

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Walking through the lavishly paved road, I came to a halt where a tiny street intersected.

This was the place.

I stood there, watching people hurry to work; the cars on the road honked none too gently, and the impatient bikes made their way through the gaps in between.
The sun shone brightly upon the land beneath, and I raised my face, as though I could feel the vitamin D seep through my skin.

It was a busy day. Little girls with tiny gowns stood waiting for their school bus to pick them up. I stood there still, waiting.

What was I waiting for?

I did not know.

In fact, I did not know anything. I had been coming to this place everyday since I woke up all alone in that dirty place, knowing I’d get some clue about something I might need from my old life.

I didn’t even remember who I was.

I had found my phone, and in that, there was a reminder.. reminding me to visit that place everyday.

Why would I have visited that place everyday? It was just an ordinary road anyway.

But something inside me told me it wasn’t.

When I woke up from oblivion a few days ago, I had found myself in a dirty place, fully beaten up; beside me were someone’s divorce papers – perhaps they were mine; I had also found a bag full of money, enough to last a lifetime. If I really wanted, I could’ve started a new life; gotten all that I needed.

But some part of my brain disagreed. It told me there was something that I needed much more than money.

Just then, a little girl came down the cramped lane and walked towards her friend. Her skin was pale, yet healthy. Her eyes, innocent.

And those wide-open eyes were looking for something. She looked at the tree beside her, then at the traffic, and then…

At me.

When those tiny eyes met mine, she froze. So did I.

And with that one look at her, I knew. She was everything I needed.

I even realized why I would want to come here everyday. Though I didn’t remember her, didn’t recognise who she was, I knew she was the one for whom I had been living.

She was certainly worth waiting for every morning.

She was my daughter.

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A dream come true…

Aside

It was the time when the last vestiges of dark decided to flee on seeing the sanguine rays of the sun; it was the time when the streetlamps were still glowing despite the appearance of the sunrays, and the city that resembled a beast at day, was actually asleep.

The air was fresh, and she took a deep breath as her legs pedalled on. She cycled through the transparent mist, like a free bird gliding across the ocean. She was taken to DreamWorld completely, and the surrealism of it all made her eyes wide.

The clean street was lined with streetlamps, providing their dull orange glow to the day, telling her it was all a dream. And this dream of hers was punctuated by reality as now and again, a few lamps went missing from the oh-so-consistent line.

And in those gaps of reality that seeped through, the sun rays painted the place with warmth even as chilly winds of the late night kept blowing at her. Something told her reality could be nothing like this.

As she entered a narrow alley which wasn’t yet blessed by the warm rays of the sun, she hit the brakes and got down. The rows of houses that adorned the street were enveloped in a thin sheet of dust. A few green plants grew everywhere, and she clasped her tiny hands and cast her sight heavenwards.

“Oh, this place cannot just be real,” she said. “It looks as if I’ve entered a world I’d never visited before.”

And then came the voice from heaven: “This is what early morning feels like, my child.”

An alley early in the morning

Exotic Italy! 🙂

Whose love cannot be replaced

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Karen sighed. She didn’t have the patience anymore to face the empty home that greeted her with nothingness every day, as her step-parents worked till late nights and scurried away to their offices early in the mornings. She didn’t even have the time to say a proper ‘hello’ to them, considering their never being at home most of the time.

Hitching her schoolbag over her back, and sighing once again, Karen hurried forward, away to the outskirts of town. She was free at last – free from the shackles of mockery that her friends failed not to bind her with and a prison of a school.

Karen glanced sideways on the road, at a trio who licked their ice-creams, laughter booming from within each of them as an unsaid private joke was being enjoyed – and Karen smiled – this was a first in many months, since the merry laughter of the trio was not directed at her; this was her only reason to smile.

Of course, she thought. The only cause of laughter among the people couldn’t be the mockery of her. There had to be other genuine reasons to laugh, too. But the constant ridicule that she received from her schoolmates made her think that whenever someone burst out into laughter, it was because of her clumsiness, or any other trait pertaining to her. It had to always be her.

But today, as she saw the harmless laughter bubbling up from the adolescents, she gathered up her courage and walked up to them.
The only boy in the little group looked up at her and smiled. Karen’s heart beat fast, wanting to get lost in the moment forever. But alas, that moment could not last.

“Who are you?” he had asked her.

Someone had just spoken something inoffensive to her.

Karen simply grinned at the boy.

“Girl. Stop drooling at my boyfriend.” The girl standing to his left snapped at her.

Boyfriend?

It was a rich word that Karen could not quite afford into her vocabulary. Boyfriends, shopping, malls, fun, parties, night-outs, sleepovers, gossip, friends, dates, prom – none of these were in the affordable side of Karen’s boundary.

Should she even be denied of hospitality?

She looked up at the girl, perplexed. “I am sorry.” At the end of the day, she had ended up using the same phrase she would have used against her bullies at school; the outskirts of town was certainly not worth escaping into.
She then dared a look into the depths of the boy’s fathomless eyes. They were soft and kind, and she couldn’t see any ill will there, but she certainly did in those of the girl beside him.

His gaze, in return, pierced directly into her soul, ripping it apart, tearing it to shreds, setting it on fire, reducing it to ashes and then left her eyes abruptly without even a feeling of remorse. Ever-so-innocently.

The two girls beside him seemed oblivious to the ardent gaze exchange that he had just had with Karen. Within seconds, the color of his eyes drained, and he returned to his former self. “Who are you?” he repeated, this time, irritation evident in his voice. “What do you want?”

If falling in love at the first gaze was plausible, then Karen had just experienced that. Her eyes peered into the depths of his soul again through his eyes, seeking the warmth and kindness that oozed out towards her that he had painfully suppressed moments ago.

“Wherever has it gone?” she whispered unconsciously, earning odd looks from three pairs of eyes.

The boy surely thought that she was a freak – just like the others did. She willed him not to look oblivious to what she was searching for, but he remained that way. He knew not what she had been searching for.
Even she did not know what she had been seeking all these days, unless she had found it – love.

A lone voice rang clearly in her head, clear as a bell: “Karen, my baby!” It was that of her mother.

Eyes brimming with moist, she turned away and walked back the way she came, while the salty beads of tears rolled down her cheeks in abundant quantities. Her feet took her to a deserted alleyway, where she broke down and cried until her eyes were dehydrated of moisture.

She wanted her mother. Badly.

How I unintentionally helped Mrs. Pauley

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A short story written in first person, in the point of view of a twelve year old boy for writing 101: writing challenge.

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I was playing with my new plastic bat in my lane when I heard a voice beside the house I stood. The voice made me stop playing and eavesdrop.

“I will somehow try to pay it within a month, sir, please give me some more time.” The desperate cries of a woman tore through the otherwise silent air, as I stood there, motionless. It was Mrs. Pauley.

I slowly peeked through their gate and let my eyes wander. Sure enough, I saw Mrs. Pauley, sobbing hard, with some sturdy looking old man and a cop.

What are they trying to do to her?

I slowly tiptoed to the other side of the gate to get a clear view and a clear idea of what they were talking about. It looked like Mrs. Pauley couldn’t handle paying the rent for her house as she lived alone.

Mr. Pauley had his cancer operation done after it had reached its advanced stage, knowing no hope was left. That operation took two things from the Pauleys, mother had said. Their hard earned money, and Mr. Pauley’s life.

However, Mrs. Pauley wasn’t someone who surrendered to the depression that threatened to suck her in. She still wore a happy smile and sent all her six sons out to work, as they were short on money.

Mother said that Mrs. Pauley was a kind hearted woman and she prayed for Mrs. Pauley’s sons to return soon with whatever amount of money they have made.

“Okay, Mrs. Pauley.” A rough voice made me snap to reality. “We shall see this weekend. If your money is not returned by then…”

The next thing I experienced was the gate smashing right against my nose as the sturdy man barged out, with the cop following closely behind.

“See you this weekend, ma’am,” said the cop as the duo barely noticed me.

Mrs. Pauley didn’t have any money to buy me candies anymore? Oh,no! That would be a great issue!

I went straight to the phone stand at the far end of the lane and took out the only coin I possessed. I put it into the slot and held receiver tight.

“Hello?” The person on the other end of the line answered.

“Hey Brian, it’s me,” I said, knowing the youngest of the Pauleys would surely recognize my voice.

And immediately I got a response. “Hey, dude, what’s up?”

“Something bad has happened,” I told him, as I knew I wouldn’t get candies from her every weekend. “Mrs. Pauley needs money urgently, and you must come with whatever you have.” I hung up immediately.

“Good job, son.” A familiar voice said from behind, helping me put the receiver back onto the stand. “Mrs. Pauley does need money, and she wouldn’t tell her sons and make them suffer.”

I smiled, as mother ruffled my hair affectionately. “I had to do it, mother.”

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