Greyscale Angel

He says, She says

Hello dear readers.
I have made the decision to add to this chapter so, if you have already read it, please scroll to the end and read the additional parts.
So sorry for the inconvenience.
Happy reading ♡
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Amaan's point of view cont...

It was Friday and I was returning from dropping my mum and Yaseen at the airport. Melodrama at it's peak is parting with your Indian mum at the airport! The teary eyes and endless hugs, it broke my heart a little as I saw my mum walk towards the boarding gate, but I knew it was the right thing to do and deep down, past the tears and the guilt trips, I know that she did too.

11am
I had a bit of time before Jummah prayer so I decided to stop at The Coffee House for a cup of tea and a scone. I never worked on a Friday, you see Friday is a Muslim's most sacred day of the week. I feel the need to make the most of it hence, I take my Saturday break on a Friday and work the whole of Saturday. Thankfully, Google was accommodating like that. I picked up a copy of the Daily Reader as I entered the café. I had been hooked to this new column for the past couple of weeks. The column was anonymously written by someone who called themselves "Greyscale Angel". Not sure what it was about the writer that attracted me so. Perhaps it was that the writing was so raw and unapologetically honest. It was witty and confusing, it was about nothing and everything at the same time. I was always intrigued to see what she (I'm assuming it is a she) would write next! I was so taken aback by the column that I had actually emailed the author, granted I didn't get much of a response, it was still worth it. I ordered my tea and paged through the newspaper until I got to the column by Greyscale Angel. The word murder stood out immediately, this should be interesting...

Did you pull the trigger?
Yes.

Did you mean to?
Yes.

Are you sorry?
No

Are you guilty?
No

One gets away when one is not guilty to begin with. To pull the trigger yet retain your innocence, is that not the perfect crime?

"Nought's had all's spent
Where our desire is got without content
Tis safer to be that which we destroy
Then by destruction dwell in doubtful joy."

Lady Macbeth, being the Marie antoinette of modern literature, felt greatly troubled by her deed. She never slit the throat but she certainly sharpened the blade. Either way what did she get? Bloody encounters with her own reflection in the mirror.
Scared yet?

Do I dare? Planning, luck, connections. You took a life but lost a soul. You took something temporary and lost something eternal. Haunted haunted haunted. There are really two ways out, death or insanity.
Scared yet?

You could falsely claim insanity. Hey, after a few days, it wouldn't be false at all. Not when your victim becomes the source of your nightmares and your peace of mind turns pieces of a shattered human being. Run run as fast as you can, the faster you run the firmer my hand. For I am the wind into which you move, don't you see? says good old guilt to bad old me.
Scared yet?

It's not that I'm contemplating a murder, don't get me wrong. I'm actually just contemplating the murderer himself. What does it take to drive a person to the point of taking a life? Breaking point.

I seem to think that everyone has a breaking point. Not necessarily resulting in murder, of course. But some significant moment that changes life for ever. The moment you think to yourself, "I've had enough, I can't take it anymore" it's a normal reaction I think. It's just that people have different coping strategies. Some pray, some intoxicate to the point of numbness, some take revenge on the world... Perhaps I'm just being overly dramatic. Which is strange because the dark cloud above my head has actually lightened as of recently. I wouldn't say that I see the rainbow or anything, but I have thought about dancing in the rain... Okay that has nothing to do with this topic - scrap that. Actually what about the anti murder moment? A moment at which a ray of light streams through. The moment you can't help but be grateful because life isn't as difficult as it was yesterday. Imagine being placed into a box, dark, confined, it's been hours, days... The tiny hole which has been your source of oxygen seems to be shrinking, it feels as though a hand tightens upon your neck. Your dry throat burns as trickles of saliva scratches like chalk down a coarse board. Taking one last breath, you prepare to feel the final sizzle of life itself as it expires into nothingness. Just then, the box lid creaks open a few centimetres. Confusion, relief, pain, disbelief... Gratitude.

I'd love to hear some murder/anti murder moments that you may have experienced. My favourite ones will make the paper next week.

Remember to live life consciously . When it's bad, remember that you haven't lost a limb. If you've lost a limb, remember that you don't live on the street. If you live on the street, remember that you are not ill. If you are ill, remember that you are not dying, if you are dying, remember God and thank Him for a wonderful life...

~Greyscale Angel~

Speechless. Why is she this way? So many crazy thoughts, so creative in being utterly complex in the simplest of ways. She really messes with my mind. I would love to meet her. It would be quite the meeting. I've never felt so intrigued by someone I had never met. It makes no sense, I know. I'm not even a major reader. I mean I read comic books and IT manuals, but nothing beyond that. Then why was I so drawn to this particular writer? Why this article, why this newspaper, why this author? I have no idea. I think I'm just infatuated by the fancy words. Who even thinks about these things? I need help.

Just then I heard a beep go off. It was a message from mum, they were taking off in a few minutes. I stopped at the last line of her message. It read: "Call Malaa'ika! " Oh Mother... I knew she was right though. I had not spoken to Malaa'ika since our coffee "date". I should call her. But wait, she hasn't called me either. Does she even want to meet again? Only one way to find out... I dialed her number.
Ring... ring... ring...

"Hello?" Came her melodious voice.
"Malaa'ika... assalamualaikum. How are you?"
"Wslm. I'm well thanks. How are you? I've been expecting your call... um I mean I.. well..." she mumbled.
I smiled. I've never heard her sound so vulnerable... "I'm so sorry I haven't called. My mum and brother were in town and my attention was severely tempered with." I said, quite truly actually.
She gave a slight laugh. It was the first time I actually felt as though her guard was not completely up. "It's okay, I was busy myself, work... " And there it was once again, the guard. I still had to try though, I could see that she was. "Are you free any time this week?" I asked, hoping that she would not avoid the question. She didn't. In fact, what she said next, shocked me to my core, In the best of ways. "Well um, I wanted to ask you something. My mentor has given us each these tickets for a play at the local theatre. It's a take on Shakespeare's Macbeth. I know it's a play and that is kind of weird but would you be interested at all?"

A play???!! Who goes for a play?? Before my mind could rationalise, I blurted out, " I'd love to go." Okay so it's a play, but It's also an opportunity to get to know her better. "Great, " she said, "I'll text you the details."

And just like that I was going to the opera. Who knew this day would end with me agreeing to go to the opera! With a girl I barely knew! Perhaps my mother was right, this girl had quite the effect on me.