Again I thought I had a nightmare. A Blood-filled face and own hands armed with a dagger that smeared with blood itself.
Now was the middle of the night, when the world seems in a grip of an eerie atmosphere and wicked dreams abuse one's mind asleep.
I shall sleep no more. My sleep was afflicted with horrid dreams. With these miserable introspections determined to find no peace, I wished I could conjure up infernal spirits to reveal their frequent episodes.
I believe dark visions tell us truths about slight existence. It must have a strange relatedness to our lives to alert us to the matter of the grandest consequences in concrete.
However, I forced myself to doze intoxicated and careless of fear which resembled evil.
'murder' which woke me shall get addressed to sleep again. But though my dream had most need of a blessing, yet the fear was so much forcible than any prayer.
In the dawn of autumn dawn, getting rid of the fear, I couldn't sleep that night. I entered my mother's room. Pleading her to rise late, I snoozed her alarm and lay down cuddling my way into her arms. I soon fell fast asleep.
When I awoke, I was in sad fright of finding myself alone. I sauntered around not knowing where everyone would be or which way to go to seek them.
In the meantime, I saw, Shyra feeding street cats. The setting echoed bliss and beloved. She acknowledges them as more loyal of the soul than we are.
Of her age, she is elder and of her complexion, she is tanned and defined. This is pretty plain speaking but with grand reference, men thrill to gab with her. Shaira clarifies herself plainly and ever
displeasures with perplexity to unjust.
On the contrary, I carry a highway burglar outside and feared to look up a genuine lady.
Anyways, neither one's the topic.
I began to think of confessing my infuriation to my parents. When I saw mother's formidable arrival advancing toward me, I pinch my lip in vexation.
But I consider it an ultimatum to liberate the tangle.
It was a Sunday morning, and it had been a long since the father is back from an assignment.
Despite his materialistic transactional approach, he is neither wit nor a reason to be a family.
He was no taller than Amir Khan and had a red face with a square white beard that looked like a paintbrush.
He was already a rejected spouse of Lara. He desired to sleep with other women in past.
My mother back then made all the retorts to his fond solicitation was, a declaration of a resolution never to love any more of him.
Not to digress, I should put my head down and throw myself into the current task.
I found no difficulty in gaining access towards a wimpish attempt to coax or flatter mother to allow me that she initially does not want to. I can round up anyone that easily. (Everything is a lie)
But I won't throw in the towel just yet. I decided to stick with it. I swung around---- and saw some of her heavy old books slid off the high shelves, littered to the floor. It will be sufficient to gladden her.
I tripped and tumbled till there.
Nope.
I came stomping over the books, kicking them out of my way. I dove to the shelf and started to straighten out every book about eliminating confusion between writers (rigid work I denote)
I reached my arrow to the final reader and gazed down at the writer. A strange smile crossed my face. I seem committed to thinking of him. Wasn't I the one who ordered it?
At the shelf, her words rang behind me. "Sorry", she murmured.
I squinted at her, "excuse me?".
She lowered her eyes to his book and eyeballed me back again.
I squeezed the book and cradled them under my arms, pretending to hide it, and backed away in fright.
"No! Look out!", Mother screamed.
I staggered till I crashed into the wall (well, ouch!)
"Why don't you get out of my room and wait near the kitchen", she let out in concern.
For one thing, she is my mother so let's face facts--- she is caring but she can't stand stupidity. And she thinks she is funny, but she isn't.
She picked up a block of ice from the fridge and punched it into my forehead.
"Maa, do you know what is going on with me?"
Now my condition makes me inquire about it literally. To get an answer for a "violation?" I committed the other day.
I won't take all the faults on myself but I will keep it confidential as therefore, some feelings can run so deep that they are better left unrevealed.
It doesn't mean, I won't be using a rope to strangle him to death.
As undoubtedly I am sorely tempted to throttle him.
Mother took a step forward and leaned back against the bookshelf. I could see the calmest in her nightfall gaze.
"You need to recognize the situation for what it is and start putting things in place to deal with it", she sounded.
I crossed my arms in front of me. "It wasn't intended, really", I said.
"I know, I don't care about the conviction of any relation but I stress for you. My sole reason to live. When you were six, you labored to aim at running away from home. And while bidding us goodbye, you would clasp Mr. Grungy with you and wail like a bride. And then shyra would switch on your favorite television episodes of Tom & Jerry and subsequent tour, you were found dozing near the fireplace".
Her disclosure of my historic activities had me in stitches, "No way! So stupid of me, ma".
"Yeah, of course, that was when you were cute. Now you only think you're cute", she said.
I rolled my eyes. "Big tragedy".
A few seconds later, I stepped out from the front door. I hopped down the stairs and went running to the streets.
The wind whistled around the corners. Trees started to sway and rustle in the wind. Someone stepped past me and out of the blue, with no warning, someone, wrapped his arms around my waist from the back and mumbled in my ears.
"I was edgy if you'd survive sweetie", he softly whispered.
All I can do is shove him back with a hard punch and next stomped my foot on top of his.
"Ohh up", he made a horrible noise and started to choke.
He shrugged. I turned angrily to him. I wanted to punch him more but I come from a nonviolent family. I mean, everyone but me. Okay, I felt a little less angry.
"Hey, wait----", I lashed out at him.