FICTION, life, soul


And, this was not how it was meant to be. But, can one help it? Do you know how it was supposed to be?

Bruised and battered, I lie awake like a corpse; eyes open and clear, I sleep like the dead. From a distance, I am scary and disturbing because that is how you feel in your insides. The flies find a home in me and I lie undisturbed but you, you, vibrate like a ripple. My serenity is your fall. You cannot see the truth looking at you. You are not concerned about me yet you’re cornered by the solemnity of my eyes. You see a beautiful face and face away from the ultimate. You’re not afraid of the fall but apprehensive about falling deep within yourself; you are afraid that you might then feel, for then, the pleasures are but a vice you have so strongly been advocating.

And let it fall as the last lights turn black; don’t turn your back yet, wait. Silently and slowly let the shadows close in the darkness; let the prey and predator be one. Create a life to destroy the façade. Tell a lie- for once, at the very least- to turn the dead into thinking zombies. Let the first light of the sun burn you, torture you and kill you. With the last ounce of breath, kneel in genuflection and pray for mercy, beg for forgiveness. Let yourself fall into the pit where the dead rot, where the worms feast on the tissues of the body; where the smell blinds you and you’re unable to tell one sense organ from the other. See and feel what the dead cannot.


Last week as I stood in front of the empty cupboard taking in the skeletal outlook of the shelves, I felt a sudden sympathy for the wood. But I am a liar for I didn’t really feel anything for the non-living- it was my soul I felt for, as though reflected in the vacant rows. I saw my thoughts hanging like the purposeless hangars. I saw the cobwebs and mold at the corners, clear and artistic. The cupboard was a mere box, without a name. It was sound and sturdy. It was ready and accepting. It was beautiful and effective.
The roaches roamed about freely and swiftly. They didn’t try to hide, they escaped hither and thither, searching all the corners to call a home, but the corners were suffocatingly filled with intense emptiness- there was no room. Their playground was guarded by the allied forces of vacuum. Even the stray cobweb was devoid of any catch… Soon, it would be covered by hyphae. The cupboard was a paradise. But, I am a liar, I didn’t feel anything good about the cupboard. It lacked identity and purpose. It lacked life.

Today, the cupboard is a mess.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way, if it had only known what to take in and what to discard… It fell prey to the hubbub; victimised into becoming another one of the vindictive zombies.


Image courtesy – Veronica Cay (pinterest)

7 thoughts on “THE FALL”

  1. Your use of metaphors and dark imagery has always been impeccable, and it seems your time away has only enhanced it and how.
    There’s something about your writing that is at once effortlessly reminiscent of how the minds of Kafka, Dostoevsky, even Maugham’s seemed to work… Unadulterated by the popular and common, or social media lingo that plagues most written work today. Such a pleasure to read this philosophical take on human fall…the angst against the ideal and the awareness of the…well, fall.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you! It’s just incredible the way dissect my writings and define the thought carring nerve. I can only be too glad for such appreciation coming from a writer as impeccable as you.


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