It was already 9: 45 in the evening when I reached the old house. A house that once made me feel like refuge. Punches of cold breeze in my ears warned me to leave the haunted place. It has been ten years since I’d finally close the windows of conversation, removed laces that tangled curtains of untold stories. It has been years since I’d finally locked the door of my despondent childhood reminiscence. The stars wanted me to surpass this chamber of suffocation, but my compass pleaded me to burn the house like a firecracker with a blast.
All of a sudden, an elfin firefly had beeped my nose hypnotizing me to unlock the egress. Dust bunnies astounded me making my bones shiver. The howl of the door prompted me the opus of the hoary violin played by a visually impaired boy. Crumpled sheets of scented paper, petals of red roses were scattered on the floor. Faded pictures were hanged on the wall. Candid photos of innocent faces were turning into clean sheet of glossy paper. Cobwebs on the ceiling awaited mighty spiders. Smoke of haystack bribing the windowpane to share a little bit of space, a smoke that popped up scenery of a family dinner. Roasted chicken, grilled pork, fresh Salmon, dewy fruits were on the table with candle light and glasses of wine. But only the whiff of spilled chicken mushroom soup had remained. The chuckles and chortle of youngsters resonated in the entire spot. But time thawed whites and blues around into flashes of black and white. Kisses on forehead and creeps on hair had distorted into scratches of resentment and clouts of qualms. Splintered jokes had grown into weeds of confusion. Cuddles had burnt into oblivion.
As I unlocked my room, wilted daisies hailed me as if they were freshly picked. Cozy curtains painted with stars had shown a memory with the rain, watching a young boy lying in our garden with his guitar singing “City of Angels”. I’d turned my lamp shade on to allow amount of light to glow and make the room warm. Blood roofed token of achievement in a clothes chest. Medals, trophies, plaques, and ribbons filling holes of ‘I should have been’. Then I’d finally met my wicked enemy---a piece of glass showing my reflection. I’d seen a young girl in red lipstick, wearing a fancy dress. She’s worn token of entitlements and praises. But behind her mask was a child of frustration. She’s a child whose wings was torn, was stuck in an area of humiliation, a girl who had no hands and feet like a monk fish. Her mind was polluted with bulbs of wrong decisions. And a two-faced one who loved what she hated. A heart that was occupied with barbs of revenge couldn’t foresee her future. She’s totally wounded, imprisoned in the middle of nowhere. Her rainbows had turned into lifetime rain. Without any hesitation, I’d conquered my dread and swallowed vanity just to save the young girl in the mirror.
Slowly, I seized a vase of daisies, and tossed it in the piece of glass and said, “Before, I dream to become the finest doctor who would dauntlessly give the best medicine for the sick. But now, here I am. Take a look at me. I am a patient who needs to be cured. These wounds to the heart that I have are not healed by any deluxe medicine. I would never be healed for as long the memories that I have tormented me like abyss.”
The dawned made my legs frail, losing my strength to take myself up. The squalling cat and squeaking mice had broken the serenity of the whole chamber. As the cold sneaked in my whole body, the moon shone like a ball of stardust around my place and harbor quays with mooring stones.
Impressive one