Ink And Echoes

• F I F T Y T W O •

The sky was completely sepulchred in a golden, just like my hair. The hints of red reflected on the small pond and a sudden wave of happiness hit me. Not happiness but a precipitated nostalgia. I watched my father get down from his car, covered in a crime that surrounded him like darkness. My mother was with him, her hair swaying along the air. Her eyes had turned into a stone, slain roses and a kibbled copper glass.

My home had changed a lot since the last two years. It remained stygian, especially during the day time with my ashes all around on its walls. Strange, right? The lights of my room only remained on whenever my mother used to go in there. Still a mess, she was always seeking comfort and would cry. It felt like those tears belonged to a corpse. For her, I was the hills, the pain, the fire, the breeze and the ashtray.

I heard Maria, my younger sister and Josh, my elder brother coming outside. Josh was burning in a strong fire of rue yet, Maria held on to his hand, smiling as her skin melted off. They both came towards my grave, along with white roses. Maria was still smiling, wealth of pain hunting down her heart. She said that, everyone missed me. But Josh, trying so hard not to bleed out the tears, said that, he did not. There was a crack in his. I was used to it. He was just angry that I left; leaving behind my smiles and a cancer that had engulfed the coffee mugs, sunlight and my family.

My mother had started drinking, writing letters to me which I never read. “A white lie.” My father had claimed. He always went out for work. He was rarely home, never waking up with my mother and always playing a game of loyalty. I knew he was with a woman that no one in my family knew about. And, if my mother ever came to know then there would be two graves beside the house. Josh remained the same and Maria moved on. He would sometimes, at the most anomalous times, come to my grave, alone.

He would ask me, why did I die, with a malign voice. His hand would be clamped around a bottle of poison whose taste was still burning on my tongue.

Why you ask, Josh? It was you Josh. I died with your bruise marks. I died taking in your abusive nature. You always scared me, didn't you, Josh?

And now, do I scare you?

Do I flood it all in your nightmares?
        ~Sampurna