Silence and Dark- A Tale Of Twinge

Silence and Dark- A Tale Of Twinge

A Story by Irfan Bashir Shah

Silence and Dark- A Tale of Twinge

 

 

A cold buffeting wind echoed around the empty streets as the January leaves bid their stems bye. The mercury had dipped below minus and there were no signs of life anywhere. Little drops of rain kissed the ground and the muddy water reflected a blurred aura of a frightened little girl.

The diminishing light couldn't hide her white pale face and her dark black eyes, which streamed down tears that passaged through her dense black lashes and disappeared with the fading sunlight.

Her hair locks were like dark shadows of the night and her hair the night itself. At the very first glimpse one could guess that the girl was barely 7 years of age yet the forlorn look in her eyes revealed a tale of ceaseless misery. She was dressed in a pink skirt and a top which read: “1+1= 11 ;)”.

Her laced white sandals splashed the water every time she put forward a step. She held a handkerchief in her hands with which she frequently dabbed her teary somber eyes.

The air she exhaled rose to the skies and formed different shapes of fear, pain, anguish and a raging pandemonium. Her name was Kaifa!

 

Kaifa entered her home through the kitchen backdoor and clumsily walked to her mother,

“Mom”, Kaifa stuttered, “I need….. to talk to you”.

Her mother noticed her melancholy voice and her eyes flashed over to meet hers. She replied, “You go upstairs we will talk soon dear, I promise.” 

She puffed a moment and without muttering anything, she lifelessly walked upstairs straight to her room.

Minutes passed as did hours but fate had something else up its sleeve. Kaifa’s mother was held busy by some guests whom she had invited for dinner.

At the dinner table Kaifa sat motionless as if the tyranny of the world had rooted in her sorrows so deep so as to last forever. She took a gulp of water which for her tasted like hemlock. After a while she stood up and staggered back to her room but her mother, Mrs. Nisa was too busy to notice what was going on.

Outside, the nocturnal trysts of silence and dark had begun.

 

 

For the world time raced by, but for Kaifa every second measured like an eon.

Months passed by to give way to years, they too passed. They say that time is the best healer but for Kaifa every morning brought with it, waves of pain that rubbed brine against her never healing wounds.

Time made no sense and soon the world learned nothing of Kaifa.

She waited and waited; with the time faded, faded into the vastness of eternity.

 

It was a very dull morning as the bleak sunlight filtered through the windows of a house whose glee had been sucked out a decade ago. Outside, the land quenched its thirst from the golden rays of sun and the tall Chinar trees voiced to life as the insects inside made a buzzing sound. The mountains as usual stood tall with snow crowned over their heads. The leaves resting on the ground were swiped by a swift gentle breeze.

Nothing about the morning seemed to be enthralling.

Back in the house a little calm voice said, “Mumz we’ve a play at our school, didi’s friends have organized it. They said they would be pleased if you would show up for a while, plus I too want you…..umm... to be there!”

“Yes sure, love!”, Mrs. Nisa promised.

There are some secrets which the time blurs, the soil engulfs, the sun burns and the night hides, but one day they rise from the ashes and unveil a truth which changes our lives and what we live for, and this was the day, past had chosen to ruffle its feathers.

 

As curtains slinked to the walls the crowd roared to life.

A girl appeared on the stage and the play began. She was wearing a pink skirt and had a very cheerful look on her innocent face. She was heading to her friend’s house and held a notebook with both her hands. When she reached there, the door was opened by her friend’s father. “Good morning Mr. Ashai!” the girl’s voice greeted.

“It’s evening, my dear”, a raspy voice replied.

The girl flushed tomato red but somehow mustered back her courage and mouthed, “I wish to see Faika, sir!”

The man summoned the little girl in and in brooding voice mumbled, “She is out with her mother, but she will be back soon. Till then you sit on the sofa, maybe we can play a game.”

“What game?”, the girl enquired naively.

The man didn’t reply. He glared at her with his scorching eyes and then grabbed the little girl by the scruff of her neck and the poor little creature writhed with pain.

The standby curtains drew out; screams of an innocent soul were heard behind them. The brutal animal to satisfy his lust had consigned the little girl’s life into flames.

The curtain backed away and this time the girl was shown fumbling back to her home where she met her mother. In a painful voice, her lips recited, “Mom, I need to talk to you.”

 

As these words echoed around the auditorium, Mrs. Nisa felt a stupor. Her head spun in answerless circles. Bleakness started to mount over her and time ceased to exist.

Fate had exhibited some old dark cards. A bead of sweat formed just below her hairline. Things had started to become lucid.

 

In the play,

The girl was now shown as a grown up but nothing had changed for her. She still seemed to be lifeless and the look on her face endorsed the very fact.

She was walking in the middle of a road where vehicles rushed by. Sunlight pierced into her dense black eyes and revealed a tale of twinge. The girl then did what was least expected of her after she had breathed so many excruciating years of her forlorn life, she jumped in front of a speeding truck and ended her miserable life.

 

Silence deepened- and changed. Everybody in the auditorium applauded and clapped but Mrs. Nisa sat there lifeless and stunned.

Her red face turned chalky as she regurgitated the old pain. She found herself trapped in an abrupt bedlam as if she were falling deep in an abyss. Guilt kicks torched her into a trance as she let her world crumble down.

All these years she had learned that her daughter died in a road accident but today the sword of time had stricken its final blow and the reality had crashed upon her.

If only she had known what she knew today, her loving daughter would have been alive.

If only she had talked to her. If only she had noticed the grave look she always wore on face. If and only if…

Mrs. Nisa Gulped down her sorrows and a sudden surge of remorse took over her as she got visions of Kaifa smiling upon her. She tried hard to scream but her voice would betray her. The aura of Kaifa faded before her eyes and she felt like dying but then it dawned upon her that she had another daughter whom she couldn't afford to lose. She had to take care of her. She had to live for her. She had to mother her.

She stood up, her feet trembling and took a deep breath. She looked at her younger daughter whose black eyes reminded her of Kaifa; she caught hold of her hand and embraced her. Separating her stitched dry lips, she murmured in a trance, “Let’s go…. Kaifa!”

 

                                 And one more book of pity fate itself wrote

                                 A story told but untold

                                 Heard but unheard……

 

© 2014 Irfan Bashir Shah


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Featured Review

Starts out promising, exceptional descriptions.You have clearly cut out all unnecessary words and created a well edited piece. It might benefit from the odd comma or two.
Barley?....(Barely)...an almost mystical write in its purple prose.
You have mastered dialogue extremely well! You have animated the whole piece with imaginative body language.
Outside, the nocturnal trysts of silence and dark had begun...(Superb!)
You have managed to capture pearls of wisdom, expressing them unintrusively, and very cleverley.
I loved the way you blended the house into the days weather so deftly!
It is also written beautifully and padded with amazing snippets of nature's wonders.
You managed to change scenes very easily, almost without the reader noticing!
You have described bravely and sensitively, the more distasteful scenes.
You half-surprise the reader with the tragedy of it all, when one might have hoped of a better outcome, you hit us with the grim reality of it all, as a writer should.
It was brilliant the way you described the mother's denial breaking.
A professional write. A privilege to review. Should be in the shops already! Thankyou.

Posted 9 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

This is a really good story.

Posted 5 Years Ago


beautiful.......sad..............happy..............telling.........

Posted 7 Years Ago


This is an amazing story. Your descriptions are perfect; gives pictures to the mind, just like it should. The beginning lures you into the whole piece.
It's dark and well thought out, just what the people want. Great job, I loved it.

Posted 7 Years Ago


Well, wow! Heartbreakingly written. Full of depth, emotion, and compassionate understanding for not only the young girl and her struggle, but also her mother. A moving glimpse into another's life. Well done!

Posted 7 Years Ago


wow that was entertaining for me. Sometime predictable sometimes not but as always. A very nice story Monsieur.

Posted 7 Years Ago


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:: i'm an adult survivor of child abuse and relate to many parts of this story... there are many like me in our country who make it despite the fact that the experience is excruciating... it took me a long time to heal but i did heal... my soul-mate hasn't healed yet... he's an adult survivor of severe child abuse too... it happens to boys as well...

Posted 7 Years Ago


Beautifully penned. Brilliantly conceptualised..!!

Keep Sharing..!!

Good Wishes..!!

Posted 7 Years Ago


Rich vocabulary and even richer descriptions. I'm not sure why but it somehow reminded me of a very dark Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassu...strange where the mind goes.

Here are a few things I caught:
Little drops of rain were kissing (kissed) the ground
The diminishing light couldn't hide her white pale face and (her - omit/not needed) dark black eyes
The air she exhaled rose in the skies (sky?)
“You go upstairs we will talk soon dear! I promise.” (exclamation point? Too strong?)
“It’s evening (,) my dear”, a raspy voice replied.

Well done!
RVH


Posted 7 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

The story has everything to offer. Superb language, life like description, a feel and more than anything a message. Very well done. Hats off!

Posted 7 Years Ago


A great write, narration is beautiful, conclusion is fantastic, only down side is these writings stems from incidents happen somewhere close or nearer and extremely sad, hopefully these writing may help in the future to some extent to prevent tragedies similar to a smaller scale at least

Posted 7 Years Ago



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Added on December 8, 2011
Last Updated on February 14, 2014


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