A raging ball of fire slowly slips into the shadows. The darkness embraces the light, and gives birth to the night. The gold turns to silver, all the noises now merely a quiver.
I hear nothing.
I see no-one.
I am relieved.
Little by little the dark fades into lighter shades, the moon leaves to light the sun ablaze. The world comes to life and with it, it’s strife.
I hear lies.
I see liars.
I am betrayed.
© Abirami.
To be stopped and once again revived, the mind is not as patient as the heart. Hope is more comforting than intelligence when struck by a poison dart. During the wait to be brought back to life there are a few things that just make you wonder.. Is each minute a funeral march to the grave or a brave stride towards a rightful destiny? I should hate to lose myself in the fulfillment of an untold prophecy. Regardless, I lie here, awaiting my calling. A century long slumber, in a haze between flying and falling.
© Abirami
It was another cold winter evening. A little girl sat shuddering on the front porch. Daddy’s going to be mad.. she thought. He made her promise she’d wait inside. “You don’t want to get a cold do you? Then who eats all the ice cream?”. But she hated waiting inside, all alone. The excitement tingled in her veins. SHE WAS FINALLY GETTING HER BIKE!!!! Daddy never went back on his word, she knew. He always came through. Always.
The sound of the front door creaking woke her up. She’d fallen asleep waiting. With what could only be the ‘widest grin ever’ on her face, she ran out to greet him. “Daddy! daddy!”, she screamed all the way there. He stood in the drive way, next to the prettiest pink bike with rainbow ribbons and a shiny bell . It even had a pink basket with the little daisies she loved. She stood there speechless, staring at her brand new bike with utter amazement. “Do you want to go for a ride Princess?”, he asked knowingly. Her eager eyes gave her away.
He sat there, tired, after a hard days work. All the pain was non-existent when he was watching her. After hours of ‘going for one last round in the yard’, he finally got her to put the bike away. He carried her back to her room and tucked her into bed like every other night. Five minutes into the bed-time story and she was sound asleep. At last he retired to his own bed and turned the lights out, preparing himself for another day. Another day of picking trash and sweeping floors. He would do anything to provide for her.
What they had, though it was not much, it was enough. In a world full of people who spent their lives counting dollars, they lived theirs counting stars.
Inspired by the song – Counting Stars by One Republic.
© Abirami
Abusive husband.
Submissive wife.
One day she finally found the strength to leave.
Half way out, she turned back.
She forgot to make him coffee that morning.
Some things never change.
© Abirami
“What if she says no?” he thought, as he stood on one knee in front of the girl of his dreams.
It was going to be a simple answer.
Yes or no.
But, he seriously doubted his ability to process any piece of information as of then. At intense moments, the thin line between flying and falling gets blurry. The fear of the latter always trumps the prospects of hope for the former.
She always spoke about love being the only thing that transcended space and time. He laid down his faith on that very love and hoped it was enough. They’ve been in love for as long as he remembered. What are these silly doubts then? He always trusted her. Why not now? Even though none of it made any sense, he still couldn’t shake the fear. He wondered how silly he must look. A grown man trembling with fear. Perhaps she’ll take me for a coward. After what felt like ages she finally looked like she was about to say something.. that was when the trembling got worse.
It took him long enough to realize he wasn’t really trembling. He was being woken up.
“Up sleepy head! You promised me some brunch, remember?”
Seven years of marriage and he still couldn’t believe she’d said yes.
© Abirami
She recollected the contents of the note: she left on his desk, earlier that morning.
It wasn’t
Your eyes,
Your smile,
Or your personality.
I fell for the way you made me feel safe in the heart of a raging storm.
-XOXO
P.S. You can keep that heart, you stole.
Seven years later, he framed it for their anniversary.
© Abirami
“She’s just a writer”, scoffed the politician as they stood in front of the courtroom.
An hour later he walked out in handcuffs. It’s a shame he couldn’t appreciate the irony of being sentenced.
© Abirami
An adrenaline junkie with the heart of an adventurer. She toughed it out in desert storms. Survived deadly blizzards.
But with him, the tables often turned.
With a single smile, he swept her away every day.
© Abirami
Y O U.
Every morning, she found the same three letters etched onto the piece of paper on her dusty old type writer.
The presence was too big to ignore. She felt it. In the air. Something calling out to her…
Another writer with a busy life. She was torn in between making a living and wanting to live.
© Abirami
The war ends.
Dust settles.
No blood. No gore.
No winners. No losers.
Torn up soul. Scattered pieces.
© Abirami
THE OBSESSIVE WRITER 