Boredom clings on my shoulders like vines on a wall. I sit on the bus- life jostling all around me. Everyone seems to be occupied with someone, someplace, something. My phone dings. I can feel my hand inching towards my pocket, but, alas, I must resist. The kid watches me with wide, bright eyes. He sucks in his lip and blows, releasing a horrific raspberry sound. Then his laughter explodes like confetti out of a piñata. I sigh.
"It's our stop now!" The devil shrieks and starts tugging at my t-shirt. I brush his hand off. He tugs my t-shirt again.
We walk out of the bus and as the bright lights of the day hit my face- I wince. He, on the other hand gallops on the cracked ground- his enthusiasm a contrast with the grey clouds and dull surroundings. We walk awhile in silence- or at least that's what I think. Suddenly (it seems) he is five yards ahead of me, chasing a butterfly. Oh the little heathen! I groan and jog after him. When he sees me after him, I do not believe he realises I'm trying to stop him. He giggles maniacally as he runs faster.
"Hey! That is not our field, get back here!" I wheeze but all I receive in return is another chortle.
"You'll get ticks!" I warn but the little devil runs deeper into the field. Does this land ever end? I stop and take a deep breath. When i look up again, he is nowhere in sight. My eyes scan the stretch of ground, but i find myself alone amongst the knee-length greens. Trodding forward slowly, i call out his name. Once. Twice. Thrice. Where is he? My breath seems to slowly abandon me as I try to inhale faster to make it say- it doesn't listen. As I continue my search, my mind agonises over his absence. There! Something moves in the corner of my eye. As soon as I turn, I am greeted by a huge grin and the little devil jumps on me.
"Got you!"
We fall back down on the ground- a tumble of bodies. Instantaneously, I am up. But when I look at him my previous fury seeps out of me. His laugh tumbles through my ears and for some unknown reason, I find myself smiling. We are silent for an instant. But our eyes meet, and it happens again. We laugh and laugh. And the sky laughs with us. It turns pink and orange from the utter humour of the scene. With the noon's sun raining down upon me I feel something twist in my heart.
Sometime, somewhere an old man will remember this moment and cry- how a child managed to break the illusioned barriers in a teenagers heart. How the child reminded the grown up of the joy of being free. The bliss of freedom. The ecstacy of happiness.
Those eyes lifted me high, and what a flight it was. As we sit down a butterfly flutters along our way. The child gulps in a surprised breath as it sits slowly on his hair. It is a bewitching sight.
The butterfly on the little devil.
-Zainab Khan
YOU ARE READING
A Writers Hiraeth
Short StoryThis is a collection of short stories from someone who has excelled at the art of noticing, namely, a writer. And so all that speaks not has been given a voice, and through this lens of truth a simple world is shown.
