Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Lost souls swimming in the fish bowl, year after year

Trying my hand at fiction, now. Real life is too surprising.

"Four wax candles in the darkened room
Four rings of light upon the ceiling overhead
An atmosphere of Juliet's tomb
Prepared for all the things to be said, or left unsaid."

She had to know. She had to be sure. She liked the mask after all. It was real. Much more real the boasting children begging the forced genorosity of thin-lipped smiles. Fake smiles and bemused. Like a guilty secret, thanking its good fortune.
She liked the mask's stoic silences; the angular contours of his guise; the honesty of his façade; the immutability of his expression; the refusal to pretend, to conform, to seek judgement, to care.
She caught him looking at her. She returned his stare, even as she walked to him and removed his mask.
He said, "What better way to create fiction, than live it?"
She walked away. She never looked back.


divinediu said...

And this is your first?
Great!! :D

Sushant said...

That, indeed, is very very interesting. I sometimes feel that the best stories are those which can make the reader feel he's one of the characters in it. Not quite a holistic criterion, but often effective. And if that instinct be trusted, I'd say this one is profound.

Apart from that I like the words 'stoic' and 'immutability', also 'honesty', as also 'guise' and 'façade' so much, that all of them being together at one place are any day sure to overwhelm me into going ga-ga.

Aarushi said...