The Room

The Room

A Story by Celâl Bey

The rain always brought out the black in the morning, cleansing the otherwise dusty tarmac and the tires of the shiny cars ambling along on a lazy early morning. The grays of the cracking pavements and buildings got a gritty depth and the faded browns and blues of the flaking paint on the buildings looking over the narrow street made the scene look like a still from a Fincher movie..! He thought about how it always rained in se7en.. At this point he spotted the old vendor across the street standing over a neatly stacked pile of large mangoes, their bright yellow skin blushing pink-orange. Cows ambled alongside the traffic at their own pace looking like strange creatures from the height he was at, with their long necks and skinny ribs.. The sun pushed through an air laden with heavy moisture and fine dust, marking out golden rays along its many paths. The city of shiny silvery metal and glass was in the distance, shrouded in a thin fog...or smoke?...smog?. Whatever...
It was at this point that he heard the abrupt slamming shut of the wooden window across the street with the clinking of bangles and he looked down at himself. As a sheepish smirk streaked across his face he picked up the bathrobe from the chair and wrapped himself with it. He plopped himself onto the chair at last and opened up a fresh white page on his new red notebook. As he propped his feet up on the coffee table, he accidentally kicked down the empty glass mug. Luckily it did not break or roll down onto the street from between the railings..saving him a lot of trouble. As he slowly became aware of the 'edge' of his inspiration slipping away and the quiet of the morning fading, he could not stop himself from checking his phone for messages and clearing out the 'crumbs' from last night's browsing. Realizing that he had missed the magic moment once again he looked up and considered closing the notebook.He could feel the stinging in his eyes from a lack of sleep now and he could practically see the leisurely energy of early morning morph into the frantic grind of a monday morning. Or was it a tuesday..? His long drawn out inactivity tortured him with questions of the credibility of his dreams that he had harbored since childhood. Maybe it does boil down to fate..
*III*
As these thoughts tumbled around in his tired tortured mind he saw a silhouette pass behind the thick ground-glass window on the building across the road. If he listened closely, he thought, he could hear the bangles again. His eyes followed the shape to the far end of the building as it stopped short of the last open window. Inside it was a chair, a simple wooden desk carved clumsily, a small mirror and behind it a fading wall marred by swarm of black spots. As he studied the dark little corner a lemon green and violet gown fell on the back of the chair, a slender hand reached over to the table and placed a set of multicolored glass bangles on the table. As he peered even closer, the wheatish brown back of a tall woman moved closer to the table, slender hands coursing through dense wavy hair, the ends of which split into moist jet black curls that clinged on to the unblemished golden brown of her lower back. Silver beads of water twinkled on sculpted shoulder blades. As she brushed the deep black hair to a side, he thought he saw a tiny mole, no larger than a pinhead at the end of the slender neck..and he sat there grinning, noticing his eyes widen with anticipation. The air around, he felt, was now still and quiet. He could still hear the rickshaws, cars, sweaty people and animals lumbering and jostling for space in the now dry road below. The sun was already marking sharp shadows on the dusty road... But the sounds were all turned down. All he felt was the stillness and humidity of the dark room across the road and the sunlight stinging the skin on his legs. As his gaze moved to the profile of her face he saw her deep brown eyes darting to the corner, cleverly ensuring her of his undivided attention, betraying the confident, casual stance of the rest of her lithe body...he couldn't help but smile as he realized that. A minute later, now dressed in a deep crimson, she took a final look at the mirror, tugging at the ends of her clothes, brushing a stray sliver of hair, a final glance... And as she reached out to close the window, shot him a gaze - black-brown eyes that looked right through him, that conveyed intense desire, fearful power, total control, an unspeakable grace &...anger?
A minute later, as he sat back in his chair, he spied her walking along, towing alongside her a little boy hopping on the road to avoid the cracks and potholes...

© 2013 Celâl Bey


Author's Note

Celâl Bey
Pls leave a review... Anything u hav to say is valuable... A word is all I need..

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I really enjoyed reading this! Fantastic use of imagery. Your story really came alive to me. Although, It could maybe use more transition words. Other than that all I can say is, never stop writing!

Posted 6 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Celâl Bey

6 Years Ago

Thank you... :) It's great knowing I myt've done something ryt.. I'll keep the transition words in m.. read more

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Added on May 26, 2013
Last Updated on May 26, 2013
Tags: India, city, morning, seductive, writer, spying