Toska

This post is for the "Blogger's Challenge #14", brought to you by @Showwq and @Sosepho. The theme is write a short sad story.

            The water rose to his abdomen. He was drowning. He lifted his head, saw the sunlight from above and thought to himself, "so close yet so far". He stood on his toes, looking for ways to get out of this well. A well that no one visited anymore, abandoned. There was no way out, he knew it. The water rose to his chin, he took a deep breath and prepared himself for what came beyond. The water engulfed him, life fire consuming wood. He held his breath for 20 seconds, his chest ached. 30 seconds, his head throbbed. 40 seconds, he could feel his energy crumble under all this water pressure. He desired fresh air, craved it, thirsted for it. He inhaled the water, imagining it was a gust of fresh air. Spluttered, coughed and inhaled some more. He could feel the water seep into his lungs, a fire burned in his chest as the water settled itself comfortably in his lungs. His eyes felt like lead, he tried to fight back, but was too weak. His body jerked, and then he gave away into the darkness, into unconsciousness. The last thing he remembered was feeling calm, a feeling he hadn't felt in a long while. His body sank down, until it hit the ground. His heart beat its last beat, his brain sent its last signal and then he fell into a long slumber.

            I sat straight up, sweating and struggling for breath. This has been the thirteenth time I've had this dream. I never shared it with anybody, not even my psychiatrist. It was too much to go through and I couldn't get myself to talk about it. I turned on the lamp, popped in my anti-depressant pills and swallowed. I walked to the bathroom, rinsed my face and neck with cold water, in hope that the heat would fade away.

            I had an appointment with my psychiatrist today, and I contemplated whether or not to tell him. I went over to the balcony, greeted the cold wind as an old friend and stared at the blazing full moon above. Oh, how I wish to go back to the the person I was, the bright and positive version of myself. Today, I am the shadow of who I once was, a shadow of Zachariah W. Sadgrove.

            I remember the day I lost everything I held dear to me. Her voice is carved onto my brain, "Zach, I forgive you. My angel." I cannot get the tragic event out of my head, I've tried to sleep to escape my reality, tried to re-read the books I once counted as my favorites, and I even had a try at drugs. I smoked crack until I was thrown into rehab by a friend of mine, who I lost touch with due to long distances. 

            I was an A student in one of the best colleges in the states. I had a group of friends, and a perfect girlfriend, in other words, I simply had it all. Little did I know that I was on the verge of losing it all.

            It all started with my winter break vacation. I was driving my parents back home, the road was dark and the music was loud. My mother was in the back seat while my father was in the passenger seat. We were heading back home from a party.

"So, Zach what was your impression about the party?" asked my father with a sarcastic tone.

"It was good, but it's not within my age range dad." I replied.

My father laughed and said, "There's going to be a time when it will be within "your age range" Zach. You just wait for it."

"I know that, dad. It's not that I'm afraid of growing up, I just want to live my life to the maximum while I have the chance to. Living life day by day until my hair starts to fall off."

And from behind the seats, I hear my mother say,

"William dear, can you please lower the volume? The music is making me feel dizzy."

As my father raised his arm to lower the sound, I stretched my arm and pressed on the off button. The music stopped but I could hear screaming from the back, my father gasped and pointed to a deer on the road. I immediately turned the wheel the other way, but the street was slippery with ice and the car flew to the side of the road. The car tossed and turned, I could hear my father's head hitting the dashboard, thump, thump, thump it went. My mother's screams echoed inside my head. After four or five tosses, the car finally stopped. It was upside down, I had my seat belt on and I was attached to the seat. I unattached myself and hit the steering wheel head first. Beep, beep, beeeep. I slowly crawled out of the car. When I looked at the wreckage, I realized that I have to drag my parent's bodies before it blows up. I headed to my father first, since he was the most damaged. I pulled him as my tears mixed with the blood on his face, I could barely see from all the tears. I set him on the grass and put finger to his neck, I couldn't feel a pulse. My tears drowned his bloodied face as I cried over his body. I headed towards my mother and I heard her groan as I carried her to the ground. She had a very weak pulse. I set her head on the ground and bent over her,

"Mom, mom can you hear me?" I said as I was chocking with my tears.

She lifted her hand and put it on my face, "Zach...... I forgive..... you. My angel." Then she let go, her hand hit the ground, the warmth seeped from her body and her eyes never blinked again.

            Toska, is Russian for a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, yearning. 

Eccedentiast

            For as long as she had known, she fake smiled her way through life. She smiled, through her pain. She laughed, but the laughter didn't reach her dull eyes. Even in the midst of crowds, she always felt alone, like she didn’t belong to anyone or anything. Her means of escaping the harsh and cruel reality she lives in was through sleep, for as she slept; she let go of all the agony within her and embraced the sweet nothingness that sleep gave her.

            As much as she wanted to share her worries with those she loved, those who cared for her, she couldn’t. It always felt like she would trouble them with whatever she’s facing, so she kept it all to herself. Eventually, all those words she bit back, all those feelings she buried deep down within her, burst like an active volcano; its sizzling lava burning those she considered close to her. Gradually, her friends shunned her, and one by one they disappeared until there was no one but her shadow by her side.

Perpendicular Lines

           He stood on the roof, starring into the horizon waiting for the sunrise. He lit a cigarette, and as soon as the smoke penetrated his lungs, he felt at peace. Smoking eased him, allowed him to escape his thoughts. After a couple of cigarettes, the sun rose on the sky. Its rays finding their way to his face. He closed his eyes, blinked and her face appeared on his lids, smiling at him. His chest anguished him. It all came back rushing to him. Everything he locked behind that door of his brain. Her touch, her voice, her laugh and that flowery smell of hers. The memory of her weighed him down, it crushed his soul. He ached for her presence, the way she made him comfortable and feel right in place, but the heart wants what the heart can't get. Fate stepped in, separated them and left him broken.

           As the sun loomed over the horizon, its rays found their way into her room. The birds chirped in the distance, she woke up, rose from her bed and headed to the bathroom. As she faced the mirror, she stared into her eyes, and saw him. His image as clear as the sun, smiling at her. She stepped back and took a breath. She rinsed her face with cold water in order to forget, but it all came back rushing to her. Everything she locked behind that door of her brain. His touch, his voice, his laugh and the smell of the cigarettes on him. The memory of him weighed her down, it crushed her soul. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she couldn't fight anymore. She crashed down on the cold tiles, sobbing hysterically, hugging her knees to herself knowing that nothing will bring her comfort other than his presence, but the heart wants what the heart can't get. Fate stepped in, separated them and left her broken.

           The story of these two resembles the story of perpendicular lines; how they meet once in their lifetimes and then separate forever. Never to meet again.

Winds of Change

Humans stood on the ship of fate,

Anticipating the hidden events of the morrow,

Between the hands of destiny they fail as bait,

As curiosity sprouts like weeds of yarrow,

For they cannot change what has been written on slate,

Whether it be happiness or sorrow,

The winds of change howl at the ships' sail,

Causing a ripple effect on every life,

The universe holds the future of mortals in a vial,

As those individuals for their future strife.

Time

Time is an illusion,

A set of numbers,

That imprisons one in a certain event,

Calculated by humans and men alike,

Thus they alone suffer from its consequences,

Time is nothing but a mere mirage.

New beginnings

Hello, 

 The number of times I made blogs and deleted them is just countless. I make one, use it for a couple of months and abandon it when I run out of motivation. I've used blogspot, blog, and even livejournal and I was never committed to any of them.

So, why am I back?

1. I love to write, I mainly write for myself but I don't mind sharing it with the public. I actually express myself through writing because I tend to lock up all my feelings and writing is the only way for me to set my feelings free.
2. Among all the platforms I've used to blog, nothing compares to blogspot. I always keep coming back to blogspot and I hope that this time, I stick to this one, for once and for all.
3. Just as reading is my escape from reality, so is writing. I always write, but the best pieces of writings are the ones I write when I'm about to burst with anger, when I'm full of emotions.

 These are the main reasons why I'm getting back to blogger, and by God's will, I'll be committed to this blog. Even if it was a post per month.

 I hope you enjoy reading my blog as much as I enjoy writing these posts.

Regards,

Moza Al Mansouri