Though ghosts and other sorts of spirits seemed like they walked the same plane of existence as those of the living, even they were kept separate by a boundary made by the laws of the universe. The near shore and the far shore, were these planes. The line between both was very close, and often difficult to differentiate. But those of the near shore couldn’t ever go to the far shore without facing death. And the opposite could never hold true, once dead is always dead, unless the universe dealt an exception.
Days and nights passed by differently after she came into his life. They suddenly had meaning again, something to look forward to. He found her outside his porch again, sitting with knees planted in the grass near the wooden steps. The petals of the red spider lily had not yet begun to shed, meaning they had some time together. He had questions that only she could give answers to. He sat besides her, leaning back against the support pillar of the cabin. She looked up to him, smiled, and threw her arms around his neck. If only he could feel it properly. Starved for affection, he wanted time to stop then and there. The chill was a warmth only he could describe.
If only I had my memory…..
“What is your name?” He asked, a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. A week passed since they first met, or met again, whichever of the two it really was, but only now did he have the resolve to ask for her name. Maybe it would help him remember. She looked up at him, lifting the finger from which she drew shapes into the dirt earlier, before his arrival. With the flick of her wrist, she called him closer to the patch, to where he could see better.
Letter by letter, she answered his first question. She looked up into his eyes, hoping that he would recognize her. Hearing him talk to her like a stranger was never what she wanted. Painful, for even a ghost like her.
“Shehnaaz ….?” He said, softly and slowly. She nodded, and smiled. It at least felt nice to hear him say her name out loud. She missed it, having gone ten years without it.
Sidharth looked at her, puzzled. So much happiness in just the utterance of a name. And even the ache in his chest lessened when he took it, like an antidote. She didn’t write anything else, but continued to draw various patterns and shapes into the dirt. The wind blew more of those petals from the red spider lily apart, scattering around his feet.
Whenever the flower started to shed, her expression would become more and more apprehensive. As much as he didn’t want her to leave, she didn’t want to leave him. Both knew the pain of separation, and it was rarely pleasant.
“It’s almost time for you to go, isn’t it?” He asked, kneeling by her side again. Midnight was only an hour from now. She nodded, lips trembling. He hated the nighttime even more so now. It was taking her away. He had gotten used to her simple presence, after ten years of solitude. That new emotion, it was reflected in his icy grey irises.
She directed his attention to the ground again. She had written something.
“Will you be okay, without me?” He enunciated, followed by her nod. “I will. Don’t worry.” He replied.
Shehnaaz ……
He knew that name like he knew how to breathe. Innate and unforgettable. Even his heart recognized it. But where were the memories that accompanied it?
When the clock inside the cabin began to sound at the onset of midnight, she stood up and looked behind them. She couldn’t stay, but she at least wanted him to come with until her hiding place beckoned her away. Holding the hem of his coat, she matched his stride. He walked with her to the unmarked grave under which her body lay in rest, and stood by it until her form vanished into the headstone.
Until the next day, he thought.
The red spider lily from her hair lay rooted in the soil, glowing as bright as the moon above. He stared at it for a while more, quietly, then turned back towards ‘home’.
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