The Cursed OneMarch 15, 2011
The golden rays of the morning sun melted her oval face. She smiled and stirred in her sleep as he gently caressed her face with his knuckles. He had never felt more fulfilled, more complete till this moment. The last two hours had been incredible; he made love to her till the last ounce of his existence and she took in his ecstasy with all her passion. They just lay there, silent, motionless, letting the world pass by, relishing in the beauty of that moment. He starred at the ceiling listening to her long deep breathing, fighting to stay awake, savoring the little time that was left of the encounter. Soon it would be time to leave …
Slowly, she raised her torso as if unwilling to get up, turned her face back and smiled at him. He stretched his hand out trying to grab her and bring her down towards him but she was not an easy one to catch. She had never been. He got up behind her and reached for her again, but she managed to pull away. They held each other with their eyes, till she dropped her gaze, picked up her clothes from the ground and dressed herself up in a jiffy. He followed her league. She sat in front of the mirror to fix her face and hair as he kept starring at her reflection. They both smiled at each other again. He had never seen anything more beautiful.
She picked up his watch and wallet from the table top and handed it over to him. He strapped his watch to his wrist, took out two thousand rupee notes and handed it over to her. It was time to leave… or maybe it still wasn’t. Before she could get away, he drew her towards him, grabbed her in his firm grip and planted a warm wet kiss on her lips. Their carnal engagement was interrupted with a loud knock on the door. His heart missed a skip. This wasn’t supposed to happen. No one knew he was here. He released her and let her answer the door. The knocks became louder and more frequent.
The moment she opened the door, she was dragged out of her house by two hefty women. They hit her head and slapped her hard across her face. A TV camera unit recorded the whole incident as the women cursed and yelled at her. They looked into the camera and spoke into the boom mike that the woman in question had a loose character and was turning the entire apartment into a brothel. They pulled her hair, tore her clothes and continued to kick and gag her. Apparently, the media channel had promised the social activists a spot in prime time.
He heard the commotion getting bigger and bigger. He had to act quickly. He looked through the keyhole and saw that the watchman was witnessing the ruckus as well. He made a small opening with the door and signaled the watchman to come over. The watchman caught his eye, came closer and stood in front of the door covering the door opening with his back. He slipped a five hundred rupee note into the watchman’s hand and the watchman immediately knew what to do. The other residents had gathered around to witness the hullabaloo so it was easy for them to flee from there unnoticed. The watchman’s huge body acted as his shield as he quietly walked out of there. He looked at her once before making his final exit; she caught his eye and held him captive with her painful gaze, but said nothing. Her misty eyes bled her heart out. He lowered his gaze and looked away.The watchman led him away from the crowd and successfully shoved him out of the impending catastrophe. He walked out of the apartment, got into his car and sped away. He dared not look back, but her aching eyes still stared deep into his.
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Wanted to berate the two women and the man. Wanted to yell at them. Obviously your story telling skills evoked that reaction. Well done.
Thanks Tim 🙂 Got inspired by your words and penned down another one. If fried eye wants, it might get published in the next issue.
The way each event unfolded was spell-binding and they way it has be written is just awesome. Carry on with the good work and keep writing more.
A good story. One can think of making a film out of it.
@Prerna-Thanks so much!
@Dagny-I am really touched. Keep inspiring like this and my pen…well my keyboard will ceratinly churn out more 🙂
I swear this made me stop breathing. Believe it…!
You are SOME story teller..! I hope someday I can write like this. And no, I am not being modest…. I don’t suffer from that useless vice.
I am merely brutally honest.
Bless you girl… more power to your pen..!
very captivating. love the style. good work.