From Middle Persian (/Tarik/), from (/tar/, "darkness), ultimately from Proto-Indo-European *Temhos.

Part 1

The dusk set

The loud clap of thunder echoing through the open windows in the bedroom woke him up. Covered in cold sweat, gasping the words "The Temhos" he quickly looked around confused as to where he was. It took him a few seconds before he came back to his senses and stopped gasping.

Looking around, he was safe in a dark bedroom, laying on a queen size bed, the sound of bolt of lightning still echoing in his ears. "Have you seen her in your dreams again?! The girl with ruby eyes?!" a shivering whisper went through his mind.

 He rubbed his face, he could no longer fall asleep anymore, hence he got off his bed. It was yet another vivid dream---he was not sure how to interpret. Was it a sweet dream or yet another nightmare haunting his mind and soul he wondered as he caught a breath of fresh air from the window, "But of course, a lovely, rainy night perfect for sleeping in tight….. only to be ruined by thunderstorm! One can't have them all I guess…"

 He reached for the light switch, instantly covering his eyes like a vampire sent into the middle of a blazing field of sunlight. "A field!" he whispered, he paused for a nanosecond and then continued, "A field of grass…..wind blowing into her loose dark hair, her sweet, sweet laughter…..a touch from her soft hand. Her eyes turning black and ruby red like flashlight." He kept recalling back as he whispered those words in the empty room, his mind projecting sceneries from the dream. The more he thought about it, the more Sadness filled his heart.

 The dream triggered a certain emotion within, from the deep, dark corners of my mind and I can't remember what exactly and it really irritates me. He rubbed his temples aggressively.

 Uncontrollable tear began filling his eyes but before they were to fall down, he pulled himself together, his pride holding it back. He turned to the old, white IKEA clock hanging on the pale white walls. It was 9 in the evening; he had been drinking heavily again and escaping from a tormented life of endless loops and no purpose.

Rather than facing reality, he was chasing dreams and running away from it all, even if it meant for a few hours, only to be woken up by yet another nightmare. He wondered around, slowly stroking his chin with one hand, the other hand was high against the wall, trying to put the puzzle together and figure out what his recent dream was all about. Why did it triggered such sadness?

 The more he thought about it the less he could remember yet it triggered such deep emotions within his empty soul. The situation and the commotion of emotions seemed so out of his comprehension thus, frustrated and angry he began walking around his room, passing by a dust-covered negligée laying on an armchair.

 He stopped and stared at it, tender sapphire blue. It seemed so precious yet it held so many bitter memories but it did not matter in that moment for he only wanted to satisfy his curiosity hence he grabbed it and smelled the little remaining scent it had left of her before he threw it back and began strolling aimlessly again.

 His feet rubbing against the little red Persian rug, such a comfortable feeling. It felt like home---he smiled before wondering-----Who gave that rug to him? How long had it been there?! He wondered for a little while before he continued to walk around his neatly furnished bedroom.

 He continued to wonder around, searching for something to take his mind off from the agonizing, incomprehensible sadness he was going through. He came across his bookshelf, filled with romantic novels, from blood and ash, milk and honey, everything I never told you…when all of a sudden, he came across a frame of an old family picture.

 A long-forgotten picture of his family he hadn't looked at for months. "I am certain it's from the old country." he scoffed and observed it more carefully, "Only a few days before we moved to the United States. How could I forget the cold look of dear mother holding my baby brother in her arms faking a smile just for the picture." he turned his gaze to the left side of the picture, "Oh, father, you old fool! You are standing so joyfully right next to her in a tuxedo and oh look, a genuine smile on your face! Probably from too much red wine on your day off work, hovering your hands over the little miserable me."

He scoffed again with resentment. Nathaniel hardly had any recollection or the memories from the old country except for his sweet grandmother who he was to never see again. And so, with even more bitter feelings resurfacing, he shoved back the frame into the shelf and looked back at the clock behind him.

 "Oh it is going to be yet another typical, purposeless evening, huh?" he said frustatingly to his empty room, strolling to the window, his eyes still fixated on the clock until he reached the window and gazed upon the hallowed skies wondering how long he had to deal with these agonizing feelings.

Purpose, he thought, was the only way out of this nightmare of a lifestyle. But he had been searching for one all his life to no avail. He pointlessly stared out the window, constantly looking back at the clock….it just kept ticking pointlessly---each tick louder than the last, mesmerizing Nathaniel, drowning him in his endless thoughts yet again------a sea of memories.

The more he thought the worse the feelings and emotions manifested. Hope slowly gave its place to despair and despair was slowly transitioned into anger before he was interrupted by the vicious vibration of his phone laying on the end table next to his bed.

Reluctant, annoyed but curious he rolled his dark, brown eyes and looked at his own reflection in the window. He felt nothing but disgust for he hadn't shaved for days. He hadn't been to the gym for weeks or did anything productive for that matter; Nathaniel thought angrily, rubbing his thick stubble that was just a couple of days away from a full-grown beard. He casually strolled to his phone passing by the empty ramen noodle, pizza boxes and empty gin bottles standing and laying on the dark, old parquet floor.

Something has to give, this can't go on!! The pain, the agony and the utter sadness he experienced everyday was becoming so overwhelming that not even alcohol and sleep could help him escape it. And so, with sad, defeated eyes, he pierced into the smartphone's screen, the name popping up was no one other than his little brother Daniel the do-gooder. 

 He cleared his throat and swiped right, "Supreme lord Nathaniel speaking, who dares disrupt my peace and quiet!" 

"Goodness brother, I see you have not lost the Nathaniel humor just yet!" said a vibrant voice from the other line.

"Ah great, Daniel the do-gooder!! How kind of you to ruin my peaceful evening!!"

"How are you doing today?!" Daniel said, ignoring his usual rudeness.

"Nothing much little brother, just doing what I do best. Being the rude, mean asshole me and of course making everyone around me as miserable as possible! So, what can I do you for?! I seem to be full of kindness of sorts this evening." Nathaniel looked around carelessly, putting on an act of being cool and fully in control of his deranging emotions.

"I've been thinking as of late; it sure has been quite a while since you and I had a drink or some decent food together. How about we meet over by the restaurant next to my office tomorrow for lunch, huh?! What say you?" he said enthusiastically, awaiting his response so ever patiently.

Nathaniel paused and hesitated to respond; he suspected something cheesy going on. Strolling around, he desperately tried to figure out why was his brother so ever outgoing and enthusiastic about taking him out for lunch. "Oh great, those two chuckle heads, who dare call themselves my best friends, probably contacted Daniel the honorable. Now how the heck am I getting out of this one?!" he rolled his eyes and held in a huff. "Do we really have to do this?! Lately every time we meet, we tend to get piss drunk or stuff ourselves with so much food I just want to die afterwards. We are constantly avoiding the talk if you failed to notice."

"Come on Nathaniel! We have to give this brother thing another chance, I know I am the younger brother, but I've been acting as the older one my entire life, I must see and take care of my brother, come on I promise a nice meal …. You only have to pay for 20% no more and no less, so?"

Nathaniel eyes sharply looked at his own reflection once again and even though deep down he knew his brother's intentions were not pure-hearted, he had to get out of this rut. "Fine, I guess I could use a free meal." he reluctantly agreed.

"Wonderful, so how about 1 p.m. at the restaurant near my office? I'll send you the address." 

"No need, sadly I already know the location being related to you and all." he muttered annoyingly.

"Fantastic, knowing you I'd say that will be more like 3 in the afternoon but see you!" he said jokingly.

"Very funny, Daniel!" Nathaniel annoyingly hung up the phone. He carelessly threw it back on the end table and sat on his desk chair. The act was gone, the suppressed negative feelings and emotions resurfacing, his back bent and his hands behind his head, aggressively playing with his hair and constantly wondering how to change things.

 Rubbing his feet on the Persian rug, he got more frustrated in sheer irritation about how a stupid dream he couldn't even fully remember had such a negative impact on his mood. He stared at the patterns of the little, red rug for before he walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to grab a fresh bottle of ice-cold gin. He looked at it with a bitter smile, "That will do the trick!" and took back the bottle to his room.

 But before he was to open it, he looked upon the pile of dirty clothes laying around on the floor, stroking his chin again, that evening had to have at least one productive outcome, hence he got up and quickly gathered them around and put them inside a basket, strugglingly dragging them to the bathroom and into the washing machine.

"Welp, the least I can do is to have some decent, clean clothes ready for tomorrow!" Nathaniel turned on the washing machine, closed the door to his surprisingly clean bathroom and rushed back to the wooden, messy and old study desk where amid all the books and notes, he had a shot glass ready to drink like a fish and pass out from the alcohol poisoning.