Theandric Thursday # 10: Best Friend For Life...

Zack is my best friend. He lives down the street in the corner-most house, right at the edge of the woods, which I find equally awesome and terrifying. He's been my best friend for life since we met in the library three years ago, and I found him clutching the special edition comic I'd been waiting for months! I couldn't resist and politely asked his mother - who never seemed to leave his side, and sometimes it seemed overbearing, if you ask me, especially for an eight year old. She asked Zack to hand it to me to read. I suggested that we could read it together, but his mother seemed scared at the prospect, as if I would have hurt him, so she quickly shook her head, forced a smile and took the special edition comic away from him and gave it to me. Anyway, that's a long story, and Miss Clara asked us to write a page a day. Zack is my best friend for life. Mother tells me that I'm quite an unusual boy for my age, which is twelve years, four months and twenty-three days at the moment, not counting the hours and minutes. I could do that too. I have always been able to do that, which is what made Zack interested in a scrawny boy like me and we became best friends. I'm unusual because... well, it sounds like I lack humility, because I haven't yet learned how to phrase words without seeming self-important, but she says I'm a lot kinder for my age. When I think about it, it doesn't seem to make any sense. I mean, Miss Clara tells us to be kind, and it took me a while to know what it meant. I was rather happy too, I will admit, because from what we were told, I figured I was usually kind. But what was the big deal about it? I asked mom once, and she sighed so heavily and smiled so sadly, although lovingly, that I didn't ask her again. Yet, I want to know. What's the big deal if I'm a kind boy? What's so unusual about it?

Benzie left his journal at that. He had already known that Miss Clara would not be reading whole summer journals by everyone in his class, which would be twenty-five. Even then, since he was one of her favourites - and he knew that despite the fact that Miss Clara didn't show it because she wasn't supposed to have favourties - he hoped she would read his journal and answer his questions. He looked at the page again, re-reading his entry five times over, because he did not want to have any spelling or grammatical error. A page a day is too short, he thought, wondering about all the things about Zack he wanted to write. His heart conflicted on a few things, because if he was honest with himself, he thought they were somewhat rude things to mention, like the strange smell of a chemical that fills Zack's house and which Benzie didn't find very pleasant. Nevertheless, he loved spending time with Zack, and his mother, because his mother never left his side even when the boys were eleven, and he didn't mind a little chemical in the air for that.

'Aren't you running late for school?' asked Grandma from the other side of the table while Benzie swallowed what was left of the scrambled eggs on his plate. He nodded vigorously and plopped off his chair. He made it to the door before turning back and planting a kiss on Grandma's cheek.

'Can I go to Zack's straight after school?' he asked, hoping that she'd say yes, despite having been refused each time.

Grandma's mouth opened and quickly shut again. It seemed to Benzie that she'd been about to say yes, but then thought the better of it. However, when he heard her speak, he couldn't have been more surprised.

'Only if you keep a promise,' she said. 

His eyes shone bright as stars. 'Really?' he squealed. 'Anything you say grandma. You know I never break promises.'

She smiled. 'Before leaving school, you have to apply the recommended amount of Klotin. You will not go without doing that, all right?'

Benzie nodded, only after a slight pause. 'I'm still not old enough to know everything?' he asked.

Grandma shook her head. 'It's a responsibility to know everything, Zie. Sometimes you're better off not knowing. Be a good boy. Here,' she took out a blue bottle of liquid, a nozzle on top, and put it in an inside zipper of Benzie's bag. 'Rush now.'

Benzie was happy that he would be allowed to go to his best friend's house straight after school, which was happening for the first time ever! Zack used to go to school, but he started homeschooling right after kindergarten. That's also when he started celebrating all his birthdays with his family and no friends. Till the time he met Benzie, that is.

J.C. Valley Middle School was a twenty minute walk from Benzie's place, but Benzie had fifteen minutes to make it. Hitching up his school bag a notch higher and taking care to stay on the pedestrian path, Benzie started running. Thirteen minutes later, he was making his way to the classroom, breathing heavily. Mr Jones was already in class, his back to the room, finishing writing the words 'Maladies of the current times.'

Mr Jones wasn't particularly Benzie's favourite teacher, especially since he taught them Biology, which Benzie wasn't quite fond of. So they'd be learning about maladies today? Ugh. He didn't even like the word.

'What do you know about maladies?' asked Mr Jones, once the class had been settled.

As usual, Kevin's hand shot up.

'Kevin?'

'An ailment, sir.'

'A serious ailment, sir,' Gina replied sharply. Benzie remembered that her mother was a doctor.

'Very good,' Mr Jones nodded to the two of them. 'An ailment deeprooted, or something that's not easy to resolve is a malady.'

Benzie's stomach twisted itself into knots. He wasn't enjoying this at all. Mr Jones spent the next half hour explaining three maladies to the class, after which Benzie was not the only one who seemed nauseated.

'I'm not sure we fall in the recommended target audience for this topic,' Gina muttered, looking angry. Benzie glanced sideways at her. He usually remained silent in Mr Jones's class, but today he was absolutely mum. The wall clock showed seven minutes and thirty-six seconds for the bell to ring, according to Benzie's calculation. He was about to start thinking about something far more interesting, like stories or numbers, when he heard the word 'Klotin'. Mr Jones was in the process of explaining something, and Benzie realized he had missed it. He peeped into Gina's notebook.

Her handwriting made deep dents into the page as she had written forcefully and furiously.

'... protective chemical... perfumed... mask... safety... flesh... similar to zo-' This was followed by a deep gash in the paper, and Benzie could read no more. He turned his attention to Mr Jones.

'... seems like something from fantasy novels and movies, and if you had any inclination and idea about it, I'm sure you'd understand better. This, however, is real life,' his voice had turned grave, and Benzie noticed how he wasn't the only one equally scared and intrigued. 'The victims then lose sense of smell entirely, except for the smell of skin. Of the scent of human flesh.' Benzie's heart started pumping harder. Mr Jones continued, disregarding Gina's look of pure dislike, which Benzie couldn't ignore. It wasn't her look as much as the angry shuffling of her feet on the floor, even as she sat, 'This malady is presently identified in nine people across the globe.'

A stunned silence reigned in the room. Mr Jones seemed to be enjoying the show. 'Now, who says we aren't really away from a zombie apocalypse?'

'What about those nine people?' Gina asked, her voice strained. Benzie could see her hands clutched together tightly in her lap. 'What happened to them?'

Now Mr Jones turned a slight shade of red as he properly registered Gina's question. Or rather, Gina herself. 'Well, you don't mean to say you don't know?'

What happened next surprised Benzie so much, he was sure he wouldn't do that ever in his life, for it could be so scary for everyone around him. Gina stood up, banging a fist on the table with all the force she could muster, a large tear rolling down her angry cheeks. Grabbing her bag, she cried out, 'No one cares for them! You talk about them like they're an experiment! THIS WORLD IS STUPID!' With that, she stomped out of the class, ignoring Mr Jones's feeble attempts to stop her. Benzie's heart raced. He badly wanted to go after her.

'This was an example of how you are not supposed to behave in class,' Mr Jones spoke in a serious voice, scribbling on an orange detention slip. Undoubtedly for Gina. The bell rang. Benzie spent the entire day looking for Gina - between class breaks, of course, which lasted five minutes - but she was nowhere to be found. By that time, he had already heard rumoured whispers about her, including some as weird as Gina being a zombie herself.

He felt uneasy all day long. Many questions came to his head, and he felt that Gina, with whom he hadn't spoken more than a polite 'Hi, how are you?', would definitely answer some. The final class came to an end. Benzie picked up his bag and rushed to the boys' restroom on the ground floor. He was sure he didn't want the other boys to know about him going to Zack's, especially not when he'd be dabbing himself with four squirts of Klotin on his face and arms, eyes closed. No one understood Zack. In fact, and he hated to recall, some of the boys even went so far as to call him a weirdo. While closing the zipper, he noticed with a sinking feeling, a library book that was due that day. J.C. Valley Library did not entertain late penalties, and Benzie did not want to face mother with a fine on his head.

Sighing heavily, he made his way to the library, hoping he would be able to drop the book and rush back before anyone could make out his strong perfume. To his relief, the librarian wasn't behind her desk, so he swiftly dropped in the book in the Returns stand, and turned around to leave. Just as he did, he caught a glimpse of a figure crouched low in front of the huge windows, bent over a book. He would not have bothered to see who stayed back after school in the library, but he knew it to be Gina, so he quickly went towards her, forgetting all about his perfume.

She looked up, narrowing her eyes at him. Her eyes seemed puffy.

'Hey,' he began.

'What do you want?'

'Umm... I just wanted to know if you're all right,' Benzie replied, unsure if he should sit down. 'I was looking for you. Before.'

'You won't understand. Nobody will. This world is so stupid!' She gasped for air as she said that, and Benzie noticed she had crunched up a page in the library book. He wished she would shut it or confess about it to the librarian, but he felt she wasn't going to do either of the two. She just wasn't there, really.

'Well, I want to. Something about Mr Jones's class was disturbing me too. I just don't know what.'

Gina looked up at that. 

Benzie continued, 'Do... do you know anything about Klotin?'

Gina stared at him. It seemed to Benzie that she was at first angry, but it turned to surprise, and then for some reason... to shock.

'What do you know about it?' she asked, closing the book and slowly crawling away from him. 

Benzie was tired of questions, and he figured if he didn't keep Gina's attention any longer, she would be gone. He realized his perfume now covered their surroundings. 

'My best friend,' he said in a whisper. 'I cannot go to him without Klotin. He is homeschooled. I've been told he is delicate, so he cannot really go to school and play like other boys. You have to trust me, Gina. I want to know.'

It took Benzie a good part of the next ten minutes to explain and convince her to tell him what she knew. Gina told him about herself - her story, her relation with Klotin, and why she thought the world was stupid. Benzie felt hot tears running down his cheeks and surprisingly, he wasn't ashamed of them right then, even not in front of a girl. Perhaps that was because Gina's face was wet too. Klotin happened to be a protective applicant, to be applied on exposed areas of the skin. It was used to mask the scent of human skin, to keep them safe from those suffering from a dangerous disease called kloetinbititis. Benzie didn't even try pronouncing it right.

'We've got to warn them,' Gina said, getting up determinedly. 'I don't want that to happen to anyone else.'

Benzie nodded, trying to rid himself of the shaky feeling that had enveloped his body. He ran with Gina outside the school, and all the way to the end of the lane where Zack's house stood, right next to the woods. 

'You got any more of that Klotin?' Gina asked.

Benzie nodded and handed it to her. A sinking feeling filled him as he saw, for the first time, the true purpose of its use. 

They went inside. It was chaos.

Clothes, big and small, items of daily use, the silver adornments that always stayed on the mantelpiece, everything lay in a heap. In the middle of it sat Zack's mother, feverishly sorting them out and roughly folding them, keeping them in a couple of large trunks. She looked up at the two kids and for a moment, didn't register them.

'Oh,' she said. 'Benzie! Ohmy. I totally forgot your grandma said you'd come over!' she sounded frantic, getting up and coming over to them. 'You brought a friend?' she asked, glancing at Gina.

'I know,' Benzie said in a tearful whisper. Zack's mother froze. 

'Know what, dear?'

'About Zack,' Gina said. 'You've got to hide him. They're looking for such patients. Mr Jones told us in class today and I checked with my mother right before coming here,' she said in a rush. Benzie noticed how she had used the word 'patients' instead of what Mr Jones used - victims. 

'But... you... You're mistaken, kids,' Zack's mother said, forcing a smile. Benzie had seen too many of those to know what it was.

'We aren't,' he insisted. He looked around. 'You're leaving? Where's Zack?'

'My dad is one such patient,' Gina muttered, looking steadily at Zack's mother. 'He was taken away. He's one of the nine patients identified with the disease. I don't know what they're doing to him, but from what I overheard mom saying, I know it's not something pleasant. They talk about him like he isn't even human!' 

Zack's mother finally seemed to trust them. She looked tenderly at Gina and said, 'Thank you. We got a warning from someone I trust, and we're leaving. I... I'm really grateful to you. I will pray that your father is safe, and that you'd meet him soon enough.'

Gina shrugged. 'Can we see Zack? We've got Klotin on us.' Zack's mother nodded. Benzie ran towards Zack's room, Gina in tow. 

Zack was standing in front of his toy-cupboard, a large trunk behind him. 'You're late, Zie,' he said without turning around. 'I feel terrible, Zie. We're going away. We-' he stopped as he saw Gina.

As for Gina, she was looking at the strangest boy she ever saw. Nearly a foot shorter than them despite being the same age, Zack was a small boy, his legs rather thin. His sweet face was an entirely another matter. His hazel-brown eyes seemed like they were perpetually in wonder and his thin lips presently curved into a small smile.

'Hi,' he said, not coming closer. 

'Hi,' Gina replied. 'My name is Gina, and I'm Benzie's new friend. Nice to meet you, Zack,' she replied politely. Zack nodded. 

'We're going away, Zie,' he repeated, looking at Benzie, his eyes becoming sad.

'I'm so sorry about that,' Benzie replied, going over to where Zack stood. 'Is it far? Where you're going?' he asked, even as he knew the answer.

'Yes.'

The two boys stood for a moment, conscious of Gina's presence. 

'I'll be waiting for you, Benzie,' she said, turning to the door.

Zack's eyes filled with tears. 'I don't want to go,' he cried. Benzie couldn't help feeling a deep sense of sadness. It was a grave sensation, something he had never felt before. He was too young to know that it was grief. The crying boy in front of him had been his companion, Star Wars and Harry Potter quizzer, playmate and best friend for life. Looking at him without his mother for the first time, he realized how difficult his life was. Suffering from a rare disease with no treatment yet, a boy of eleven, unable to meet other people randomly as other people normally did, for fear that he'd smell their flesh and react to it, living in a house full of chemicals just so he didn't react to his loved ones', or even his own, flesh. He was sure if he were Zack, he would have been a very unhappy, crappy kid. But Zack was the best. He was always polite and knew things even adults wouldn't know. Benzie didn't know what he would do if Zack wasn't there.

Zack wiped off his tears furiously and turned to his trunk. He took out a photograph of the two of them. Benzie remembered the day. They'd spent an entire afternoon staying in the tree-house Zack's mother had built on one of the trees from the woods, the one closest to Zack's house. It showed the two boys, aged nine, grinning cheekily from the tree-house. 

'I have a copy too,' Zack said, showing him another one. He flipped it over and wrote, 'I'll always love you, Zie. You're the kindest boy ever. Your best friend.'

Benzie took the pen and wrote on the other picture, 'Always your best friend for life, in heart and soul. You're the bravest boy ever. Love, Zie. Xx'

As if on impulse, the two boys came forward in a long hug, and Benzie realized what Gina meant when she said the world was stupid. Here he was with Zack, a little boy who was the best boy if you came to know him, and he thought he was lucky to have him as a friend. He felt all the times they'd spent together running in his head and heart at that moment, and he felt he hadn't ever been equally happy and sad before. The world was stupid because the world didn't know what this feeling was, how wrong it was to scare off Zack and his nice mother who did everything possible to keep him safe. The little boy had never been responsible for as much as a scar on Benzie, and here he was, frightened because the world was after him for something he hadn't done.

The boys tearfully smiled at each other. 

'I'll write you loads of letters,' Benzie said. 'You will have to tell me about any new friends you make too.'

Zack considered that. 'Won't they find me weird, like the boys here?'

'Well,' Benzie replied, 'they're the stupid ones. I think you will find a smart boy like me.'

'Maybe. Maybe I'll get someone who can actually beat me at a Star Wars quiz,' Zack said, sniffing. 

'I did beat you twice.'

'Didn't.'

'Totally did!'

Then they both burst out laughing. After a pause, Zack said, 'I think you should make Gina a friend. She seems nice.'

'Indeed. But I'll miss you, too,' Benzie said. 

'I know.'

***

Benzie found out, a few days after Zack's departure and getting his Grandma and mother to tell him everything, because he knew most of it anyway, what his mother meant when she said that he was kind. 'You had it in you even before we put it there,' she explained, 'while other boys looked at Zack's small frame, you looked at his friendship. You never questioned the dabbling of Klotin if that meant you could spend time with Zack. I can't tell you how grateful his mother had been. Zack had been craving company for so long. You gave a little boy the very thing that's most precious to him - the gift of a true friend.'

Benzie was honest with himself. He respected his mother's viewpoint, but to him, it was entirely the opposite. He wanted Zack to be his friend. So what if he didn't look exactly like others? So what if he didn't go to regular school? He was still a great boy. Gina had been a regular friend from then on, often telling him about her father, after which Benzie missed Zack all the more, but he thought that Gina couldn't really talk about her father to anyone else, and she seemed much happier after that, so he let her talk. 

One evening while the sun began turning a shade of red, and Benzie and Gina were returning from the park, they crossed Zack's house, and as usual, Benzie paused. 

'Do you believe he'll be all right?' he asked bravely, for this was one burning question he needed answered.

'Of course,' Gina replied, taking his hand and leading him away, 'it'll happen when I grow up, because when I grow up, I will show this stupid world how wrong they are. I will find a cure.'   

***

Theandric Thursday is a used to be a fortnightly feature on my blog (now it'll just be whenever I have the time and mind!), where I'll be having fun with putting down those weird thoughts and stories that occupy my mind most of the times. The dictionary definition of 'Theandric' is 'Relating to the joint agency of the divine and human nature'.

If you're interested in participating, write your own Theandric Thursday post and drop your link in the comments section. Feel free to write reality, part-reality-part-fiction or fiction, anything above the 'normality' of our world. ;) You can use this picture on your post and link back to this post.

Theandric Thursday # 9: Las Ventanas

Theandric Thursday is a used to be a fortnightly feature on my blog (now it'll just be whenever I have the time and mind!), where I'll be having fun with putting down those weird thoughts and stories that occupy my mind most of the times. The dictionary definition of 'Theandric' is 'Relating to the joint agency of the divine and human nature'.

If you're interested in participating, write your own Theandric Thursday post and drop your link in the comments section. Feel free to write reality, part-reality-part-fiction or fiction, anything above the 'normality' of our world. ;) You can use the above picture on your post and link back to this post.

***

November 9, 2015

Bilbao, Spain

I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be caught dead in a 19^th century gown, however classy it looked on me, the likes of which I seemed to have on my body. Neither would I have been yielding a golden bow and arrow, which I found in my hands. As for the mesmerizing landscape that treated my eyes as I looked on, I would love to be found dead there! Wait...... what? Weirdness alert! I shook my head to shake off the ghastly image that had begun to form in my head (over-active imagination has its faults) and as I did, the scene began to fade and swirl and my head did not know where it was as it stayed in that moment of being halfway between sleepiness and wakefulness.

Floating in that territory, as I tried to get back to being awake, I was forced to stop as I heard a soft whisper right next to my ears. ‘Aarrteemissss??’ it spoke, as slithery and scary as a snake. An image floated in front of my eyes: a hazy mess of hair sitting on top of a roundish face with clear, hazel eyes, a sharp nose and a goatee.

*Singing Radiohead at the top of my lungs...* boomed Avril Lavigne from the speakers of my cell-phone as the morning alarm went off and I woke up with a start. Shutting my eyes close and concentrating, I tried to remember what it was like..... the dream.....the man with the hazel eyes. I had to give up soon after. Recalling dreams was getting much more difficult these days.

I got up, dressed myself in a Capri, sneakers and a tee declaring me as an alumnus of Hogwarts and leaving the bed unmade, went out towards the dining hall of our own little ‘palace’. I actually hated the word ‘palace’, which is what they called it. For one, it was smaller than any of those palaces I had seen on my tours to different places in India and two, I wasn’t very happy being a “royal”, however royal it sounded. It was too constricting for my liking. But anyhow, I was a princess. Kind of.

And I loved my parents very much. They sat at the table, getting breakfast served, looking as elegant as royals should be. Hugging them and exchanging Buenos dias, I gulped down my breakfast, listening to their plans for the day. I had pretty much decided to stay back at the house (no palaces for me) and work on my book, not having much of an idea of the kind of deals my parents struck anyway.

Hours later, having spent the better part of the morning typing, pausing, re-writing and plotting details, I reached a saturation point and looked up from the desk, staring ahead through the window into the pretty lawns and old willow trees adorning the back of the house. It was difficult to write as I kept getting distracted, going back and forth to the strange dream. It was when I was wondering if I should just call it quits, that I saw a blur of colour crossing one tree to the next. I stood up and stared through the window. No movement at all.

‘Carlisle!’ I called out through the intercom and a minute later, a well-groomed man in his late forties stood at the door, doing a quick curtsy, knowing pretty much how I disliked it, and waited.

‘Miss Artsy?’

Waving it off with a gesture, I said, ‘Just Artsy. I think I saw an intruder in the back lawns. Would you ask the guards to check?’

‘An intruder? But the security’s top-notch! I can bet........’

‘Carlisle? I saw someone. Hiding behind the willow trees. A man if I’m not wrong. And a very rainbow man at that.’

I thought I had Carlisle at that. He seemed about to say something but then stopped mid-word. ‘Rainbow?’ He whispered tersely.

‘Well? Is he a well-known kidnapper or something? Should we be scared? Shall I alert the security? Carlisle?’

By then I was beginning to panic. This so wasn’t Carlisle’s style. He was perfection. Always calm and in his mind, which was something I’d begun to doubt. He was muttering to himself, ’Is it time already? Oh dear, time flies! She’s just a young girl!’

I shook Carlisle by the shoulders, wishing I’d just gone off with my parents. He stared at me, mouth slightly open. ‘Miss Artsy, I’m sorry,’ he started backing away, strength returning in his voice. ‘I just have this strange...err...condition where I get flashbacks of my past.’ He seemed visibly upset and I tried consoling him. ‘Do you want some water? And it’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. Is there any medication for it?’

Carlisle’s expression was intense, one of those seemingly sad ones, who’ve tried getting away from situations but realized that some things are just futile. ‘Ahh.. no there isn’t. The past has strange ways of haunting us. It takes a lot of bravery to ignore its attempts at ruining our present. We constantly need to be at our toes and if it indeed attacks us, we should be strong enough to go back, fight and finish off the root cause once and for all.’

Needless to say, it was getting weird. The dude turned from curtsy-loving to panicky to philosophical. And we might as well be having a kidnapper already inside the house. ‘It’s okay Carlisle. I’m sure we could be brave. The first proof of which could be alerting the guards and checking around?’

‘Oh yes. Artsy, you stay here alright? Just in case. I’ll look at the disturbance and let you know the progress. Stay near the phone, okay?’

‘Yeah, alright. Be careful Carlisle,’ I said as he closed the door behind him.

Of course I couldn’t stay inside a closed room while everyone was apparently, looking for an intruder. This was my house, after all. Snatching up my sling bag and cell phone, I made my way out to the hallway, carefully peeping around corners.

I’d been wandering for about 20 minutes now, looking into rooms and getting distracted by all the beautiful artworks that adorned every corner. No wonder they called me Artsy. I loved such stuff! Although my real name on paper was Diana, hardly anyone ever called me that. I was on to the fourth floor corridor now, someplace I hadn’t stayed for long ever in my life and now that I came to think of it, I never did get a chance to snoop around there. This palace was more like a holiday home, a place to spend the summers. We lived in India for most of the year.

This floor was musty, the corridor narrower than usual and walls filled with a huge tapestry and in the centre, a single room. I remembered hiding there once as a kid while playing Hide & Seek but no more than that. The tapestry must be ancient, I thought, for it was inscribed with hieroglyphs instead of the usual painting. I tried the door of the room to find that it opened easily, a pool of clear carpet in the dust, almost as if.............. as if someone had recently been here!

My heart started beating fast, signalling the very high probability that I was in danger. However, I was just greeted by silence. There was no sound and no soul seemed to exist except me. For good measure, I checked out the room completely, being as brave as to look beneath the bed and inside the wardrobe. The room was dark and I couldn’t find the light switch, so I moved towards the heavy drapes covering the windows and pulled them aside. Light flooded the room and I had to shield my eyes from the glare of the sun.

I had serious misgivings about the weather here. But then maybe the room had been closed up for far too long. I went to the left and pulled down the string for the drape to open completely and as it did, a painting hanging on the window towards the right came into sight. Looking at the huge window and the painting on it, I had a brief moment of déjà vu as I realized that I’ve been here before. Things seemed to have numbed by now, the light not as harsh and the silence deeper than it was. Back when I’d been a six year old, hiding in this room waiting for my brother to seek me out, I’d seen this window. Carlisle had sought me out, looking rather testy for his usual manner and murmured, Nunca acercarse a las ventanas! Nunca!

¿Qué? I had spoken in my high-pitched voice.

‘Shh! Miss Artsy, you no come here. Okay?’ Carlisle pointed towards the windows. ‘Those are THE windows. Las ventanas. Don’t come here before the time is right. Now go on... go play,’ and he pushed me out of the room and locked it up.

Now, 12 years later when I sensed the familiarity, it wasn’t all nostalgic, for the last time I’d been warned against the windows. It didn’t make much sense though. What would the windows do? They were probably too high up and Carlisle had imagined me falling off through them, I thought. Walking towards them, I saw that they were indeed quite precarious, as there wasn’t any balcony out there. I turned to study the painting more closely.

It had a beautiful landscape, ending in a cliff overlooking a ditch perhaps, with thick trees in the foreground surrounding a streaming river. In the background, just near the tip of the cliff, stood a young maiden, her back turned. She had long black hair, tied in a thick braid and decorated with a tiara of white flowers. Her body had on a very light blue full length gown and she seemed to have been standing there in a rigid, alert posture, like she’s been on a lookout since forever. I hadn’t noticed myself getting closer to the picture, but I couldn’t have helped it anyway. It was a mesmerizing.... and a somewhat familiar scene.

My fingertips touched the painted maiden and I jerked back in shock as the painting started swirling around in spirals, getting hazier. Just as it had started, it stopped all of a sudden and heart pounding, unable to move, I stared as the girl walked towards the forefront, towards me, the rest of the scene completely still. She walked with purpose, her dress slightly blowing in a wind I could not see. In her hands she held a golden bow and arrow and something like a helmet.

Ever heard of that expression, ‘she stood with her mouth hanging open’? That’s what I must have looked like as I saw the girl and a rush of memories, dreams and words flooded my head, incapacitating me to do anything.

Alpheus! Artemis! Orion! Bay of Biscay! War! Dive! Run! Las Ventanas!

As the young girl now stood in the painting, staring at me with a wistful expression, I found it hard to believe I’d ever see myself looking like that. She seemed full of scorn, with my face sitting on top of her weird historical dress, hands on her hips as she mouthed her first words to me. ‘You Saumensch!’

... to be continued.

***

*Las Ventanas: "The Windows" in Spanish
Nunca acercarse a las ventanas: Never come near the windows

Y’know it really feels good to have written a TT story after so long. It’s never the kind of perfect I want to get to someday, but whenever I start waiting for the ‘perfect’ piece I’d write, I’m reminded of this quote by Margaret Atwood, ‘If I waited for perfection, I would never write.' When I seem to forget it, this blogger friend reminds me and I’m back to writing. :)

I like Theandric Thursday stories because they’re fun and allow me to make the story go anywhere I like, however quirky that might be. It feels satisfying, even when I somehow tend to extend the stories into sequels these days. You’ll find the next part posted by next Thursday. Till then, I hope you enjoyed reading this!

PS- You can read Usama's Theandric Thursday post for this week here. 

Theandric Thursday # 8: Mesmerized by Those Eyes...

**Long post alert**

This happened a few weeks ago during my summer break from school, when my dad had gone through a surgery in his left eye and used to look like a new born vampire, what with all the perennial redness. You know how it is when someone in the family is unwell. Relatives flock to your place to visit, ask the patient and the family questions they’ve already answered countless times. They offer their best wishes and leave. After dinner, of course. Anyway, that night one of dad’s sisters came over meaning to stay for the night. I personally enjoy a lot when any of his sisters come over, they’re such fun! To accompany her as well as to “see” dad, other members of the family had tagged along. My cousin has a two year old son who is incredibly cute but equally naughty. I’m not among those people who like to publicly coo and cuddle with cute little babies, though sometimes I forget this fact and do just what I don’t like doing: cooing and cuddling.

This baby would have reached London on foot if we could have put him on a straight road up till there, instead of having him toddling around in our house. This is despite the guaranteed inferiority complex he would have given to the pair of the most talkative parrots in the world. Really, sometimes I feel scared of babies. How do people even handle them 24x7? I get exhausted in the initial 30 minutes. And that is the maximum limit. Needless to say, I’m not fond of picking them up and cooing and walking around. But then again, sometimes with just the right kind of a baby, it feels precious. Alright, getting to the point, it was 11.55 p.m. and my aunt’s family was (finally) leaving for home. Just to be nice, I had tried some baby talk in that irritable kiddish voice, but the baby only slashed his hands across my face, giving me tiny scratches (though he gave that cute little laugh doing all that, so I suppose at least one of us was enjoying). So when we were outside waiting for one of my cousins to bring out the parked car and the baby agreed to come to me, I was quite surprised.

Here’s the thing I’ve learned about babies who don’t usually come to you. They’re selfish. They’ll come to you when you have to offer something they really want and then they won’t hesitate the teeniest bit. This baby loves cars and his mom was standing talking to my mom till their car was totally out. But the baby wanted to follow the car, and so my cousin dropped him off on top of me and he excitedly held on, wriggling up and down, and gesturing towards the car. I thought I might as well coo and cuddle while I’m at it and so I talked in that irritable kiddish voice, pointing out the other cars and speaking nonsense till we were almost where their car was waiting. There’s this grey bungalow in our neighbourhood, one of its kind, four houses down from ours. Even though it’s undoubtedly the hugest house in the vicinity, I never liked the dull grey color it has been painted with, mostly because of the slightly depressing aura it radiates every time you’d glance at it. And I had never given it more than a passing glance. We were standing outside that building, right next to their Honda City, 6522 (I’ve got this weird obsession of noting down car numbers), which was also a dull grey. Talk about depressing.

It also seemed to be the only car I hadn't pointed out to the baby and he kept on wriggling and leaning towards it until we were right next to the front passenger side window. I shifted so he could look inside and said, "See, baby, it's a big caarrr." The baby was still stuck to it and still wriggling so I had a hard time keeping him in my arms. And trust me I was trying really hard, because no offence, but I didn't think I could get out of the situation easily if he dropped/fell on the road because I couldn't hold him tight. Of course no one would blame the almost-two year old, he's just a baby, they'd say. Yeah right. Makes me wish my cousin could have had a baby girl instead. He kept on tapping his palm on the window, making small thumping sounds, so that at almost midnight it sounded eerie, just mixed with the baby's cute gurgling sounds and the sound of my brother-in-law guiding my cousin with the car. I was getting tired with all the activity going on in my arms (Note to self: Never have babies. Just adopt kids when they're like, 10 years old) and was about to turn around to find my cousin, when it suddenly became all quiet for a few seconds.

The baby stopped thumping and miraculously, even wriggling. He was still, just after his body jerked a little towards me and his tiny hands clutched my clothes at the shoulders. I could see the car reversing, my B-I-L with one palm held out straight and the other hand making sweeping motions, the car with its read tail-lights blinking, but there was no sound. It was as if someone had engulfed the baby and me into an invisible plastic sheet, not touching. My ears seemed to go through that experience where they're blocked out and numb, like when you travel by road in the mountains or while your flight takes off. Just those couple of seconds were enough to make my poor heart jump a mile and beat vigorously. The baby wasn't moving, I couldn't move and I was terrified. Then just as suddenly as it had come, the feeling vanished. The veil lifted and I could breathe. The baby started wriggling once more, just a little less enthusiastically. All this while my back was to the car. I swirled around and immediately felt sick, my heart banging across my ribs, for the car definitely wasn't empty. The first thing I noticed were those eyes! Almond shaped and incredibly bright yellow, with black oval eyeballs, and seemed to be moving from side to side, as if the body it belonged to was rocking back and forth. Just that.... there wasn't any body to support those eyes! I thought I saw a faint outline gradually getting fainter and then vanishing completely.

I was brought out of this shocking experience by the baby's bite on my left shoulder! Ugh! My cousin was now just a few feet away and the baby started thrashing my face and bawling. As if I wanted him anymore than he did! I passed a weak smile to my cousin and handed him over, feeling relieved and just wanting to run back home and hide in my room forever. 

"Goodnight sunshine!" my cousin called from the car and the baby shrieked as if to shush her down. 

Sunshine, how ironical.

"Goodnight di," I replied and tried giving a smile that she could easily have seen as a fluke had she not been wrapped up with the baby, trying to handle him. (Note to self: Just don't ever have babies!)

I did not want to turn around from where the car was. Like an idiot I hadn't gone running when my cousins had shut their doors, instead stood there waving them goodbye. Their car's tail light was getting smaller in the distance, I was still four houses away from my home, it was 15 minutes past midnight and I was alone, except for my tall shadow, cast down by the dull yellow light from the night lamp overhead. I took in a breath and turned the other way round, too scared to look into any of the cars' windows, but I couldn't help it. The red Alto on the curb, opposite the grey building had black translucent windows and I caught a reflection of the house and the car. Now when I think back to that night, I am surprised to see myself still alive. I should have died from multiple shocks my system suffered. The sight that was predominant in the reflection was just those yellow eyes, now shining more than ever. It seemed to be stuck on me and I felt like if I would move, so would those eyes. 

"Those eyes"

"Ashna... will you come back inside already?" mom called out and I jerked my head towards her. Thank God somebody remembered the kid is out of the house at midnight!

I almost jogged home, legs shaky and heart racing, as if I'm coming from running a marathon. That night when I finally fell asleep, pleading with mom to let me sleep in their room for that night, making the lame excuse of wanting to feel like a kid once again, I had the dirtiest of nightmares. You may ask why I didn't tell anyone about those eyes. The fact is no one would have believed me. Earlier I used to tell every single thing that happened to me, to my parents, before they started turning everything into lessons and points of reference for their scoldings and new strict rules. Had I narrated the incident just like it had happened, they would have either:

- Taken me to a shrink, or

- Asked me to read less fantasy than was normal.

So I just snuggled close to mom and plugged in my headphones and tried to sleep. When I finally slid into an uncomfortable state of stupor, all I saw was myself at night, heaving breaths with a face wet with tears, half walking, half running through a maze of streets (the same ones where I once got lost as a kid). I met numerous dead-ends and with each of those, I was met with shining eyes, just body-less, head-less, hanging-in-there eyes. Those same oval eyeballs, just that they weren't just yellow. Reached one dead-end, three pairs of green eyes. Get hell scared, turn back and run, reach another end, hellooo four pairs of red eyes. It took a lot many attempts at the jerking myself thing, my way of willing my conscious to wake up. When I finally felt like fading away from the dream, I jerked more than ever, tightly closing my eyes and opening them fast repeatedly, until I could feel the sheets rolled up beneath me and finding myself in my parents' room. Morning. 

***

I didn't go out for the next three days, even when the weather turned windy and pleasant and I could hear kids shouting and playing in the park. I was stuck inside with TV, books, laptop and Facebook. I didn't have any inkling, any dream related to those eyes and nothing unusual happened over those three days. It seemed pretty much convenient to forget about it, but I was still apprehensive about looking in that house's direction. The fourth day mom wanted to go out for some bank work and with dad still in the rest-till-you-get-better phase, I was supposed to take her on Scoot. I tried avoiding it, but.. let's just say mom can be scary at times. So I witnessed daylight after more than 72 hours. Not good for the deficient-in-Vitamin-D-me. I wasn't feeling all that scared by now, because I had been trying to wave it off as a figment of my imagination. As mom hopped on behind me, I took Scoot and zoomed out of the street, not sparing a single glance to the desolate building (which looked desolate even in broad daylight). Mom took me by surprise and asked me to stop outside our favorite gol-gappas place, where we gorged on the tasty snack and she talked about the new kind of teaching method she was planning for her students in school. It was fun, the way she tells stories about cute little five year olds and their antics. It's just these stories and examples of how I was as a little kid that I still have some hopes that kids are alright. :P

While we were returning, feeling light and happy, I had almost forgotten about those eyes. So when my eyes impetuously landed on that grey Honda City, and I saw a hint of those yellow eyes shining back at me again, I went through another emotional shock. It was all I could do to keep Scoot steady. My laughter had vanished and by now, even my patience was waning. I parked Scoot, asked mom to come with me and feeling braver than I should, walked her to the car and asked her to look inside and tell me what she saw. At first she gave me a bewildered look that shouted, "What do you think you're doing?" but seeing my worried expression, her brows furrowed and she peeped in. 

"Well, I see the steering wheel, the car seats and just... it's empty. What happened? We're not supposed to look into neighbours' cars like that. Come on." 

"No, wait!" I stood in front of the car and gave a sweeping look. Nothing. No eyes staring back at me. I felt a strange kind of a relief, apart from bewilderment and fear, mixed with the embarrassment of looking like an overactive kid. I looked carefully this time, heart going thump-thump and scanned the inside, backseats included. Nothing.

"Umm.. I'm sorry. I thought I saw something funny in there, but it's nothing," I stammered and took mom's hand and headed towards home. I think it was a part of some weird kind of imagination, because that day I was actually thinking about missing my Theandric Thursday posts. I soon succeeded in sending that thought to the back recesses of my mind. 

***

Two weeks before college was to begin, I was involved in all sorts of things someone who's desperate would do. I was crafting things out of cardboard, making papier mache objects, cards and quilling, sketching with dad, reading books, watching movies, blogging and writing stories. It was that time of the week when some of my cousins usually come over for dinner. 

Saturday night, 11.55 p.m.

The sound of laughter reverberated in the night air as my cousins stood huddled outside our gate, waiting for one of them to bring out the car. I heard the sound of my own laughter mingled with theirs, as the eldest one narrated his more-than-hilarious river rafting experience. A car's honk sounded in the distance and they all bid their goodnights to my parents, after which we started towards the parked car. Once everyone was settled and doors shut and windows slid down, we said our goodbyes and goodnights and I turned around to head home while they were still reversing. I found myself outside the grey building, looking as desolate as ever and with a slight jolt and a skip of the heart, I concentrated straight ahead on the road and started walking home. I hadn't taken more than two steps when my eyes automatically looked to their left, attracted to a shining red light. It seemed to happen all at once.

The Honda City 6522's tail-lights were a mixture of bright red and orange glows and those sharp yellow eyes, once more disembodied stared back at me. A flourescent yellow light came around the car, making everything else disappear so that all I could see was the haunted car. By the time a shriek formed in my throat, a two-second baseless tune sounded and all the car's lights flickered to life. I felt the shriek leave my mouth, rooted to the spot in sheer terror, unable to take my eyes off the ghostly scene that was making my heart something that I was positive was a heart stroke. The next thing I knew, there were voices. Two men came out from behind the car, right from the yellow flourescent lights and looked alarmed at the sight of me. I felt my mom's arm on my shoulder, looking worried and casting anxious glances at the two men, who looked utterly confused, if not scared. I could breathe a little now and my mom was tugging me, trying to take me home. I just stared at those men and almost mechanically, shrugged off mom and walked up to them, pointing to their car. 

"Wh.... what is this?" my voice shook as I attempted to form words that might sound coherent.

They looked confused and I refused to look again in the car. "Those eyes" I managed to whisper. The guy who seemed to be the older one glanced inside and then made a face like he understood, that 'O' kind of a mouth, an expression that said, "I'm amused but guilty as well". 

"Oh. You mean those yellow eyes?" he asked.

I nodded, now feeling better that I'm not the only one who knows what eyes we're talking about here.

"That is just a car-decorator hanging my brother got from the U.S. It glows in the dark, as you must have noticed." He replied, a little too enthusiastically for my taste. The other guy opened the car door. Apparently, that baseless noise was the sound of the automatic doors and lights clicking to life. I groaned and felt like someone who's been betrayed, along with being angry and upset. 

I glanced back at my mom who was peering into the car and staring at "those eyes" and back again, I said, "I'm sorry for interrupting you. Thanks."

"Not a problem." The man smiled and got in behind the wheel, three pairs of eyes staring back at me from inside the car.

I shifted a little to let the car pass as the engine spurred to life. With the movement, the hanging eye thing moved as well and rotated so that it had turned straight towards me. Before I could look away, very slowly, as if anything faster than that would not be inconspicuous, one of those yellow eyes came down, the lid sans eyelashes. I saw nothing else for a few seconds but those eyes, that winked at me. The next thing I know, I was engulfed in a blackness that wanted to choke me and then fell into nothingness.

***The End***

This post is part of a fortnightly (or, according to Usama), whenever-I-feel-like-it feature on my blog called Theandric Thursday, where I'll be having fun with putting down those weird thoughts and stories that occupy my mind most of the times. The dictionary definition of 'Theandric' is 'Relating to the joint agency of the divine and human nature'.

If you're interested in participating, write your own Theandric Thursday post and drop your link in the comments section. Feel free to write reality, part-reality-part-fiction or fiction, anything above the 'normality' of our world. ;) You can use the picture in your post and link back to this post.

PS- Check out Usama's latest Theandric Thursday posts. Two parts of a three-part story he's currently writing. Part 1, Part 2.

PPS- It's my dream to write something scary. I've tried a few times but it always ends up being funny. If this scared you even 1%, do let me know. :P

Theandric Thursday: Birthday Revelations 2: Life takes a turn.

This story is Chapter 2 of Usama's story 'Birthday Revelations', which he had written 8 months ago as a Theandric Thursday post. We decided to make it a sequel, where we'll write the story in continuation, one chapter alternating between us. If you didn't know about it, click here to read the first part. This here is the second part by me!

***

The scent was something pleasant, like a fruit. Strawberry? It was gradually drifting away, though. Just as I took a deep whiff, I felt a stinging sensation, right in my nose! Aarrghh! Garlic? What the hell! 

I blinked back tears seeping out from the corner of my eyes as I got up. This was becoming much too weird to handle. Alright, I got to know why I didn't seem to fit well with other humans, check, the humans. That's because exactly four weeks and two days prior, on my 25th birthday, I got to know I'm not really a human, but a case from Kabilaar, the Planet where my real parents are. I'm already past the phase when I might think that was just a dream, because it's not. How else would you explain those recurring, more-than-real visions I get while sleeping, where I see myself reunited with my supposedly 'real' family? Or the more-than-real feeling when I hear Kobo crying (he actually is a cry-baby!), or feel Sao Pa looking over me, or see Yev and Sam smirking together from behind him. And okay, I also see her. Daema, the strawberry girl who hasn't been out of my head since my birthday. She might as well be my cousin for all I know, and I seriously don't want to think about her, but she's the most frequent vision, and I really have no choice.

The final straw was three days ago when, upon entering home my ammi remarked, "You really have been quite energetic recently. Exercising hard? You're practically glowing!", hearing which I almost choked on my soda. I had started to wonder if, now that I know the truth, my dormant powers are coming alive? I even did a clever talk-maneuver with my parents, vaguely dropping in the words 'alien', 'planet' and even going as far as 'child adoption' just to see whether they reacted. Did they know about me? I dropped the idea soon, though. I don't care where I was born, I know who my real parents, in the right sense are. Still, that didn't stop those visions or the warm feeling I felt when I saw them. I was already getting used to them, even if they were just in my head.  

'Hey, that's an enchanting picture. What did you make this time?' came my mother's voice over my head, as I sat huddled on the floor near my desk. Startled, I shuffled the paper under another piece of still drawing.

'Uh, nothing much ammi. I had a dream and I liked it. I was trying to sketch it out, that's all', I replied, trying- and failing- to keep my voice from quivering a little. To cover up for it, I tried adding a smile, which I knew came out bleak. Mom didn't seem to notice. 'Oh, that's good. Why don't you show me? We can make a story out of it, like always. Or do you feel grown up for that?' She eyed me mischievously, but I also saw a hint of sadness, as if she missed me being the-kid-who-loved-making-up-stories with her. I wasn't exactly a kid anymore, though I still liked making up stories. It was something we bonded over.

I smiled, this time for real. 'Not at all. It isn't complete yet, though. I have another one for tonight'. 

'Alright kid. Your choice', Mom said. 'I'm going to prepare dinner. You want anything special?'

'No thanks mum. Anything you make is amazing', I grinned. She smiled and left, leaving me feeling a little guilty. I hardly ever lie to her. I took out the picture and felt even more guilty, having painted my actual family with my best kind of precision. The only ones I couldn't picture were my parents and that was partly the reason I had recently started looking forward to sleeping at night. I wondered if I might glimpse them in those visions, even though Sao Pa had made it clear I wouldn't be able to, unless I decide to stay with them. But what were they doing, visiting me so often in my head, making me comfortable around them? That wasn't fair. That might affect my decision.

No, I've made my decision. I can't leave my life for them! Yep, humans aren't as trustworthy as my fellow aliens at Kabilaar are, but still. Until a few days ago, I was one of them, at least that's what I thought. And now I'm aware I'm not really a human, I have been dealing with alien-characteristics-that-crop-up-unexpectedly any time! My life really couldn't get any weirder. 

Heh, who am I kidding? 

That night when I got that vision, that mother-of-all-visions-put-together vision, I thought I must be dreaming, because there was no way my life was going to spiral roll with that speed in that direction. But when I woke up with the roll of paper sealed with wax, I knew I was in for some life changing, one hell of an experience. I had been, I'll shamelessly admit, looking forward to sleep that night. It had been two days since I last saw Daema. Two days stuck with swearing Sev and arguing Yev, bickering with each other, and answering my questions with not-so-satisfactory answers. So when I landed in a soft cushioned seat in a beautiful room overlooking a river and the Empire State Building in the distance, I thought it's Daema's work. Just like her to create a river in the middle of Manhattan. There she was, smiling brightly and exuding off strawberries and I once again reminded my flipping heart to do a reverse gear. She's your cousin, you idiot.

My short fantasy was literally, short lived. Before I could smile back, the room was filled with soft light and the chairs forming a semi-circle around my seat weren't empty anymore. I saw Sao Pa and bowed my head in the traditional greeting. Apart from him and Daema, who was sitting in the chair closest to me, I did not recognize anyone else.
'Hello Tipo', Sao Pa, sitting in the center, addressed me. 'You must be surprised. Let me tell you what we're all here for'. His glow seemed to radiate more than ever. I realized my mouth was hanging open and I was clutching the edges of my seat. He went on, nodding towards the other Kabilaars, 'This here, is the General Kabilaar Council, of which I happen to be the President. This is Manu Lo, who takes care of the planet's Amity'. Manu Lo bowed his head toward me and I took a second, fidgeting, before I bowed back. 'And this here.....' Sao Pa continued introducing them and I tried making a mental note of each of them, based on their unique characteristics, like how Lipi Ho, the one who represents Bravery, actually had a big pout. 

And after that was the bomb, which could easily be the biggest bombshell of my 25 year old life. I now had a choice. Freedom. Not just a one-time freedom, either. I'll keep it short. Three main points came out of it:

1. If I passed their 'T&S test', short for 'Tolerance and Sanity' test, I would officially be one of them, on record, just as a non-resident. A Non-Resident Kabilaar. NRK, which meant I would be living on Earth as I always had, with the added perk of actually being able to visit my home planet too, Kabilaar, but these visits would happen after I complete another test, the details of which they said I'd come to know later. The weird thing? I had already passed the test! Turns out those visions were vigilance watches and they were testing me on my tolerance (yay I have a lot of it) and sanity. Figures. An insane human would be a sane alien. Jokes apart, I was in for a shock. 

2. Feliz was also a Kabilaar. Before I could react to this with more than a cry of shock, I was told that Feliz almost went insane, he couldn't pass this test. And the reason he didn't tell me anything or didn't believe me was that he didn't remember it himself. Kabilaar rule: You don't take the risk of having aliens roaming around on Earth proudly boasting they're aliens. Not that anyone would believe them, but still. 

3. This was the one that almost got me kicked out, any chance of turning from a potential Kabilaar to a permanent one almost ruined. But yay tolerance! They should also add 'hiding-true-feelings-despite-feeling-them-like-crazy' to the list. I mean, it turned out Daema was actually, the one responsible for Kindness and being my cousin was just part of the act, so I don't feel intimidated or something. I know, feeling so happy was insane. I don't know how I passed the Sanity test, seriously. I wasn't in control of my insanely beating heart either, especially as it did numerous somersaults after hearing the news. I know, it's gross that I have no control over my heart, and I couldn't show it. I have an inkling that Daema sensed it, though, if how she gave a bright smile was any indication, and that's a fact I have no trouble with. (Hey, this is my heart talking, not my brain. Stop rolling your eyes. They'll get stuck in the back for all you know).

So yeah, now I'll be trained for the second test and one day if I pass that, I'll be able to visit Kabilaar. To the parents who gave me birth. Ya, that was illegal, but they're still my birth-parents. I wouldn't be lying if I say I was feeling quite content with my life. :) 

***

Theandric Thursday is a used to be a fortnightly feature on my blog (now it'll just be whenever I have the time and mind!), where I'll be having fun with putting down those weird thoughts and stories that occupy my mind most of the times. The dictionary definition of 'Theandric' is 'Relating to the joint agency of the divine and human nature'.

If you're interested in participating, write your own Theandric Thursday post and drop your link in the comments section. Feel free to write reality, part-reality-part-fiction or fiction, anything above the 'normality' of our world. ;) You can use the above picture on your post and link back to this post.

PS- Do you like this story? You will like it more when Usama-the-amazing-story-teller would continue with it! Keep an eye out! ;)

Theandric Thursday # 6: Dream a better dream...

Oh yay! *Dancing* Finally, back with a Theandric Thursday post! Theandric Thursday is a used to be a fortnightly feature on my blog (now it'll just be whenever I have the time and mind!), where I'll be having fun with putting down those weird thoughts and stories that occupy my mind most of the times. The dictionary definition of 'Theandric' is 'Relating to the joint agency of the divine and human nature'.

If you're interested in participating, write your own Theandric Thursday post and drop your link in the comments section. Feel free to write reality, part-reality-part-fiction or fiction, anything above the 'normality' of our world. ;) You can use the above picture on your post and link back to this post.

Yes, I know it isn't Thursday. My blog, my wish. :P 

*Fiction*

Kaitlyn grabbed the loose ends of her hair, previously falling over her cheeks, working her hands speedily as she used the black elastic band to tie her hair up in a simple ponytail. Not that she had much choice anyway, what with her black locks almost reaching her waist, coupled with her eternal uncaring attitude, too ‘uncarish’ to even try variants in hairstyles. It wasn’t as if she was plain. She was one of those who were envied for their effortless good looks. Like, some people make a lot of effort. That girl in the mall may have spent an entire hour getting ready: showering, oiling, creaming, powdering, and all such ‘ing’s. You know what I mean. While on the other extreme there were those like Kaitlyn, who simply looked good whatever condition they were in. Even if you happen to pass their homes late in the evening and saw a light through a window and peeked in, you’d see them watching TV with their family, in their PJs and maybe laughing loudly, still you’d think they had the most beautiful faces. That was what Kaitlyn knew and was happy about. Because hello? No non-sense makeup needed and she’d still be okay.

In any case, she was much too worked up about other, seemingly impossible, yet real stuff to care about how she looks. That was nowhere in her priority list. She let out a sigh, making a small circle of breath on the mirror’s surface. Her hands rested on the edge of the dressing table as she stared into the frosty-looking glass (misnomer-because it wasn’t exactly frost that was there). The plain surface gradually turned into a swirling mass of colors, which finally took shape till she was looking into creatures and forms that dominated her dreams these past nights. It had started almost two weeks ago, she clearly remembered. She had been in a horribly angry state, sick of all the drama her fellow students in college seemed to indulge in. Sick, she had thought, these people are just so clueless, so shallow, so unaware. What kind of a person gossips about other people, commenting on everything about them? It’s ridiculous. She’d rather spend her time discussing something ‘bright’ or planning something good, or helping someone. There’s so much more to life. So much she wanted to do, so much that she feared not being able to finish it all in a lifetime.

That’s why she remembered that night in particular, because that dream had been so peculiar. So much of a coincidence that her paranoid brain didn’t just want to strike it off as a plain coincidence. True, she always had been proud of the way she felt connected to dreams, how she practically lived in those dreams, some recurring ones (like the one where she’s standing in a small round park, with kids and adults having fun and then seeing funny-looking airplanes overhead, not just flying but doing round-abouts, too close to the buildings surrounding the park), some so hilarious that she could laugh and still enjoy the dream (like the one where she is moving around in her scooty, just that the scooty is her red Fastrack bag!), some depicting her deepest insecurities and fears (like those with dogs chasing after her, or how she seems to be getting late, no matter how much she tries). These were all seemingly normal for her. Self introspection? Her dreams did that for her.

But that night had shaken her up, if only just a little. Almost as if.....as if, someone was giving her a choice. In the first part she faced the worst kind of nightmares, so tight that she wasn’t even aware and couldn’t bring herself to wake up, like she usually could. The dream ended when she was flying down into a never-ending abyss, just to have her engulfed in an entirely different realm. This time when she opened her eyes, she was still sleeping, but seemed as if she had moved into paradise. She hadn’t seen as many blooming flowers in all her life, in varying shades, interspersed between the greens. It wasn’t even too harsh, rather soothing. But that wasn’t what did it. It was the way she felt, too real, too good to be true, her heart too peaceful to be in just another usual dream. This place allowed her to be all that she thought she wasn’t and what she wanted, which was a way out to find her real self.

She frequently wondered about the point of her existence. She was a dreamer, but it didn’t work out well in ‘reality’, for dreams are to be forgotten as soon as you’re awake. Now that she had actually sensed that feeling of contentment, peace with herself, she wondered if that might be possible. It was a dream, after all. An exceptional one, but a dream nevertheless. But that was just the first night, she thought back. She’d been in her Garden of Self-Discovery every night since then, moving on a little further gradually. Sometimes she slipped when she stumbled (clumsiness even in dreams!) and some camouflaged opening would engulf her. That’s when she would find herself back in Nightmareland, struggling to break free. It got harder each time, sometimes getting so frustrated that tears would accumulate and she would wake up with a wet face. It’s true then, Kaitlyn thought, just like she’d read in a book, ‘How easily one gets accustomed to a good thing’.

“Kaitlyn? Are you ready yet?” called her mom, knocking her door. That’s what she liked best about her mom. She understood how much her daughter valued her privacy. The colors had already dried up, it was just her and her reflection, introspecting and...... lightness? There, for just a few seconds, it seemed like she was back in her Garden. Just thinking about it made a soft surge of energy flow into her. It seemed to seep into every cell, blossoming and growing until it made her feel warm and light. She realized her reflection was smiling, as if the Kaitlyn-in-the-mirror knew what she had to do. Her choice was made. Focus was all she had to work on. She’d achieve it eventually, she could bring her dreams true, for if you really want something, you can really get it, even if you saw them in your dreams! If there's something wrong, just dream a better dream! Kaitlyn smiled right back and hopped out of the room. Shopping with mom! Exciting! :D 

PS- I wouldn't be surprised if this post isn't clear, though I hope it is! I saw a kids' movie in the morning called 'The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lavagirl' based on a kid's dreams. I liked the way it shows how dreams are capable of being real. The title and the message, 'If things aren't going right, dream a better dream' has been borrowed from that movie. :)