Mortality Sequence

Prologue: Death is a funny concept. The Introvert believes that is a synonym for the word "Fair". Death does not discriminate and when it is time, it will come for you, however much you try to evade it. However, on some occasions, Death is called upon by man himself. Only man has the intelligence to end the inevitable, in all other creatures the instinct of survival is too strong. The Introvert portrays the final sequence of a person, The Lonely Man, in this post and what he thinks in his final moments. 

The Lonely Man was seated supinely in his rocking chair. The stygian house had no other dwellers. The silence was deafening, and he could hear the cadence of his heartbeat clearly. The beats were debilitating, each second, and he knew, like everyone else, his time was nearing. He was sixty-five years old now, his body, effete from the mundane ordeal of living was slowly getting cold. In those final moments, he was inundated with a spectrum of thoughts and memories. He still had some time, and that's when he began to indulge in futile nostalgia. His entire life began to flash before his eyes and slowly his mind began to sink into the past.

A younger version of The Lonely Man was lying in bed naked. A beautiful face was resting on his chest, embracing him with fervent ardor. Even today, he remembered her fragrance, it was sweeter than a field of roses. He looked at her and thought she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He kissed her and hugged her carefully, not trying to wake her up. He looked up at the heavens and thanked God for his fortune. Within seconds he was asleep.

He was disturbed by the clamor of a police siren. He was back to reality, and he sensed a caustic itch in his hand. His condition was weak, and he couldn't do anything to allay the pain. So he closed his eyes and tried to access the deepest corners of his mind. He saw the same girl again, dressed in a white shirt and black pants. He loved the way she wore the kohl and how it ameliorated her beautiful eyes. He realized that he still loved her immensely. She walked briskly past him and stopped before another man. She hugged him and kissed him on his cheek. He noticed her smile, filled with joy, just like it was when she was with him. Looking at how happy they were together, he longed for the times when he was too. He looked away from that dreadful sight as pangs of envy filled his heart. He slowly began to walk out of the place, out of the city, and out of her life.

His body felt stiff, he felt like crying, but as always he never knew how to do that. Only if he was a bit younger, he thought to himself, and vaguely had a vision of the day when he was at work. After a few heartbreaks, he gainsaid the existence of love in his life. So he began to love things that genuinely loved him back, like his work. At the age of thirty, he was leading a large conglomerate, had a fat salary, and loved every second of what he did. Everyone was in awe of him, there were a few who tried to get intimate with him too, but for him, his work was his God, and he was impervious to all the lascivious hints of the opposite sex. When he thought of those days, he just smiled, regretting his apathetic behavior toward them. If only he would have given time to those women, maybe his life would have taken a different path. All he wanted was to be eager to come home for that one person, to dream with her, expose his soul to her and entrust her with his life. But, every night from work, when he returned to his house, he wished, it was a home.

It struck three on the wall clock hanging in front of him. Now it was a matter of few hours before he would be free from the clutches of life. Time indeed has divine power, it can blunt the sharp edges of sorrow and cultivate the seeds of happiness. Patience is all one needs, but sadly for the Lonely Man, he never found what he wanted, no matter how much he waited. He had everything one covets, but he was never truly happy. He remembered the night when he finished fifty revolutions around the sun. There was a huge party organized in his honor. Everyone he knew, worked with, or associated with, were present that day. All of them coaxed him to give a speech, say a few words on the journey to fifty. After some resistance, he stepped on the dais and saw the faces of everyone present. That's when he realized, that none of them mattered to him, there was no one he lived for. He couldn't share how happy he was or how sad he was with anyone present there. That hall was as good as empty for him. He didn't know what to speak, cause he knew they wouldn't understand him. Dumbfounded by his empty life, it dawned on him, that he had lived fifty years, alone.

The sun was rising, its rays harbinger of hope and happiness, began to conquer everything in its path. Mothers woke their young ones to greet the new day. Everything had come to life, except The Lonely Man. He lay in his armchair, alone, lifeless and quiescent. A pool of maroon beside his chair, formed by the lacerations on his left wrist. The other handheld a bunch of papers. The Lonely Man had poured his soul into those sheets, they were excerpts from his diary, things he had never told anyone, things that were spoken but never heard. They were moments of his life that were incomplete. Like his life, his mortality was solitary. His presence or absence was impermeable to this world. His cadaver was found by the police after the neighbors complained of a fetidness in the area. No one cried for him, no one who missed him. In the years to come, the neighborhood was petrified of his house, they claimed it was haunted by his spirit, but very few knew, that it was primordially haunted by the most fell demon in this universe. Loneliness.

Flame to Dust, Love to Rust

Prologue: There are seven deadly sins, and "Lust" is one of the most irresistible sins. The Introvert believes every human has been possessed by each of the capital vices at least once in their lives. Lust, however, is a tricky woman, she veils herself as "Love" and seduces you until you become her slave. This post is about Lust between a boy and a girl, how it plays with their minds and makes them believe in a future that doesn't exist.

There was pitch black darkness. There was pin-drop silence in the house. Two bodies lay on opposite corners of the room. Both of them were in a deep slumber, unaware of what fate had planned for them in the future. The boy had been smitten by the girl for some time. There was something different about her, something he hadn't witnessed before in any girl he had been with earlier. He knew she could never be in love, but he had to have her, and he did.

Maybe it was the uncanny aura of that night or something in the coffee they had or maybe just God's will, but he woke up, with the feeling that this day was the last day of his life. In his semi-conscious state of mind, unable to distinguish dream from reality, he could see the world being burnt by mythical flames. He had to do something to save her. She wasn't aware of the perils he could see, and he didn't want her to be harmed. He went close to her, to wake her up. Slowly, he crawled up to where she was sleeping, went up to her face, took a second to admire it, and gently slid the lock of hair over her face aside.

It was like a thunderbolt! Suddenly, he forgot about everything, paying no heed to his illusioned reality. That face was all he wanted to see, he wished to be blanketed with her soft white skin, smothered in her sweet fragrance and those pink lips, the only thing that could quench his thirst. He whispered her name, slowly, almost seductively, bringing her back into his arms. As she opened her eyes slowly, he came closer to her face, and she could feel his breath on him. The urge in her was at its pinnacle; she couldn't stop her carnal desires anymore.

The sexual tension snapped as he kissed her lips. It was slow and soft in the beginning, but gradually as their hormones took over their movements, it became more aggressive. It was an explosion of their bottled passion, wildness, and the emptiness that was left by their past. He grabbed her by the hip, rolling across the room, getting her body on top of his. Her head was hovering over his, long brown hair tickling his face. Their lips never parted, swapping love juices while caressing each other. He started undressing her, first by taking her top off. As he was feeling the soft mounds of her breasts, she moaned his name; he had never heard it said better. With every touch, she was getting turned on. Passion was oozing out of them as if they had been lovers for eons. As he unhinged her lingerie, she helped him with his T-shirt. They hugged almost breaking their ribs. Completely bare, they fulfilled their insatiable lust for each other.

The orgasmic pleasures of the flesh weren't enough for her; she wanted more. He was squeezing every drop of lust from her, satisfying his secret fetishes. Just when they were about to stop, they began it again with renewed hunger. Overtime when their animalistic appetite sobered down, she hugged him as she loved him. He looked at her, not believing what had just happened. He felt happiness surge within him; he kissed her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, her lips hoping they could lie like this forever. She rolled her hand over his imperfect curves, salvaging every moment of this night. They talked and wondered what had gotten into them. Tired and confused with many unanswered questions, they dozed off into dreamworld.

When the sun rose, giving birth to a new day, the night had been forgotten. All the emotions were brutally butchered by civilization's boundaries and norms. They questioned their instincts, denying any feeling for each other except pure lust. Love was too sacred for her, and he didn't understand the true meaning of that word. They promised they would never indulge in such injurious fantasies. However, these situations are ideal, and not possible in reality. Because, when nightfall came, the memories of that night came too. Promises were then made just to be broken; they continued this debauchery until they realized the cost they had to pay.

These little sessions they had with each other brought them close, but they also raised expectations from each other. Their relation couldn't be defined by a single word in the dictionary, but soon whatever it was, faded like the memories of a dream. Now she couldn't stand his touch, and he couldn't stand her attitude. The very reasons why they fell for each other became the cause that tore them apart. The same face that made her eyes glow every time she saw them, now appeared loathsome. When I see these two, I remember something I had read, "Death created time to grow the things it could kill". Nobody knows what drove them that night, to take the steps they took, but that night will remind them that some feelings are fleeting and may seem lucratively beautiful, but like all good things in the world, nothing lasts forever. In time, flames always turn to dust and love eventually rusts.

Straight Through The Curves

Prologue: The Introvert believes that 'Guilt' is a powerful emotion. She writes a story about a guilty man, who pleads for forgiveness of a woman. A woman who reminds him of the past. A past that cannot be altered. This note is a figment of The Introvert's thoughts.

The clouds above roared like a lion. It had been raining cats and dogs for the past 2 hours. I sped my car through the torrential deluge; I was awfully late. The headlights weren't strong enough to limn the road; I barely managed to stay on track. I used to love the rains as a child, but once they poured with such vigour, that everything I had, was washed away. It was painful to be nostalgic of those memories, I snapped myself out of my anguish and focused on the blurry outline of the roads. After driving for a few minutes, my navigator asserted, "In 200 meters your destination will be on the left." I parked the car by the kerb, turned the ignition off and got out with my umbrella. I stood in front of a huge wrought iron gate with over 10 feet walls on either side. The guard on duty greeted me and asked, "You had to come even in this rain?" "I had to, there's nobody other than her I have in my life", I replied while signing the visitor's roster. The guard gave me a sad smile, handed me the pass and buzzed the electric doors to let me in.

I followed the long hallway up to the visitor's room where I requested the nurse for a short meeting. She seemed vexed at my request, arguing that visiting hours would end in another 10 minutes. I begged her to allow this visit, promising to be on time in the future. She instructed me to wait in the adjacent common room and unwillingly left. The common room was small consisting a small television for entertainment and a few indoor games for the people housed in the building. It was gloomy and dingy. At this hour, I could see only a motley of old and haggard people. They sat there, defeated by life, waiting for the inevitable. Occasionally needing somebody's support to perform their daily chores, requiring constant prodding, sometimes even harsh measures, to take their medications. These deranged souls were not felicitous to live among the civilised insanity of the world and hence, were kept at arm's length from it. This place, these living conditions, I never liked them, but it has been five years since I started these weekly visits, and over time I have gotten used to them.

The nurse opened the door, and I saw her come in with an old lady, feeble, walking slowly maintaining her balance using the nurse. I helped the nurse get the lady on a chair. The nurse warned me about the time constraint and left us. I looked at the woman in front of me; she had grown old, her once beautiful features fading behind the wrinkles and deep lines. Her pensive eyes were not focusing on anything in particular as if she were lost in some deep thought. She was alive, yet her soul was dead. She was human, yet there was nothing humane about her.

I sat on the chair across her, smiled awkwardly and said, "Hello Sam!" That's what I always used to call her. There was no reply. "Do you know what day is it?" She didn't budge an inch. She always took pride in the way she dressed, clean and impressive. "First impression is the last impression", she used to boast. Today, the clothes she was wearing were ragged and dirty. Her hair unkempt, with a tinge of grey in them. Time had taken a toll on her. I took her hands in mine; they were rough. I could feel my throat swell, the pain of watching her this way was unbearable. "I want you at your best to impress my colleagues," I said getting ready for an office party years ago. "Yes sweety, I just have to buy Kohl. I know you love it when I wear it and I'd do anything for you John!" she said, kissing my forehead, as she finished buttoning my shirt. Her eyes were sapphire blue but didn't have the dark Kohl. Instead, I could only see the agony in them. After a few moments, she looked straight into my eyes, and almost whispered, "Where is Joshua? Where is my son? Why didn't you get him along?" She hadn't forgotten him. He was her life, she had nurtured him with all her love and pride, but that year when she lost him, something within her died too. I couldn't hold my tears too long. I cried there, right in front of her, yet she had no remorse. She kept questioning, "Where is Joshua? Did he have homework to complete?" I hugged her tightly and sobbed like a baby.

I wish I could answer her questions, but I had none. She frantically broke free from me and began screaming as if she had realised something. "You killed him, didn't you!!! You killed my Joshua!! Go away!!! I hate you!!" The nurse and a ward boy barged into the room on hearing the wails. They tried to calm her down and hold her, but she struggled vehemently. The nurse ordered me to leave at once as she prepared to inject Sam with a sedative. I couldn't bear to see any more, I turned around and began to leave. Sam continued her diatribe against me, "You murderer!! Why are you even alive!! It should have been you, not my Joshua!!"

I ran across the hallway to the gate and then to the road where I had left my car. I sat in the car, motionless, tears still streaming down my cheeks. The mention of Joshua brought those agonizing memories back. I remember that day, five years back, when Sam had asked me to pick Josh from school. It was one of the heaviest rains the city had ever witnessed; it was a cloud burst. Every route was flooded, and the city had come to a stand still. The road outside his school was submerged in water, waist deep. Umbrella in one hand and my 10-year-old son in the other, I tripped over an open manhole. The currents of the water were too strong, and I lost my balance. I fell into the muddy water, but before I could regain my footing, I had lost Josh. I searched for my little kid the whole night, the fear of losing him, turning into a reality every passing second. Next morning, when the water had drained, I found his cold body, lying still in a corner. I tried to wake him up, called out his name several times but he did not repond. Joshua was no more. 

The sight of her only son's corpse was too horrific for her to bear. The agony had taken over her mind, there was nothing left in it. She did not shed a tear nor lambaste the heavens for stealing her son. Everday after that, she sat idly at the doorstep looking out eagerly for Joshua to return from school. I realised that she could never again be the beloved wife she was to me once. That day, I had lost Sam as well.

Sam's words kept repeating in my head, "It should have been you!!" as I sat crying even more, wishing it was me. I had become so poor in life that all I had was money. I lived alone in the city now. I made weekly visits to meet the only person I love in this world, but she wasn't the same. It was I who snatched her Joshua from this world, so she believed! I had hoped that Samantha would forgive me today, on the occasion of our 17th wedding anniversary, but this too has met the same fate as the previous five. I wiped my tears, took a deep breath, and started the ignition. The rain had receded now, but the road was slippery down the hill. One had to be careful while turning those sharp curves. For me, however, that didn't matter, because I was just going to drive straight through them!