Earlier this year, I submitted this short story to a writing competition held by a literary magazine. This was the first ever piece that was more than 500 words and took more than a month to complete. Among my many unfinished businesses this year, this story was one of the few things that I sought out to do and sucessfully completed. Though it didn’t make it to the final shortlist, I’m somewhat content. I have a lot to learn. Anyways…
Category: Short Stories
-
A day
We sat on a bench beneath a colossal green tree. The weather, calm with the sun shining gently, bestowed a soothing warmth. Ducks playfully dipped in the green pond before us. An oddly bent tree, most of its branches submerged, stood resiliently, its main trunk unwavering.
As I introduced myself, attempting to make a positive impression on our first meeting, the exact genesis of our conversation eluded my memory. I often found myself drifting into a state of distraction during our exchanges. On that particular day, it felt as if I were under the influence of some euphoric spell. Her voice resonated in my ears like a captivating melody, and although I was ostensibly attentive, my mind wandered. She shared stories about her childhood and college experiences, emphasizing resilience and the belief that time heals all wounds. I nodded in agreement.
“Yeah, I agree with you.”
“Ahhh.”
“Ummmmm.”
“I know, I.. I.. there was this time one of my friends… “
I halted for a few seconds.
“What?” she inquired.
“Nevermind.”
“What is it?”
After a brief pause, I admitted, “One of my really close friends… umm… I guess, betrayed me.”
“And…”
“I don’t know, that’s it I guess.”
“Why?” she probed.
“Timing… maybe time. Timing was not right. It was…”
While conversing, I lost interest in my own narrative. The words felt disjointed, and I disliked the direction of the conversation. It seemed meaningless, and I lacked the energy to conclude my thoughts. I gained no positive insights from the experience, merely mirroring her recounting of events—what happened, how I felt, and how it fit into my life.
“Shut up. Shut up. Do you need to talk so much? Same fucking story again and again. Shut up,” a voice berated me internally.
I felt a gentle shake on my arm, “Maya, Maya.”
“Hmm… what?”
“Then what happened?” she inquired.
Her question left me bewildered.
“What?” I responded.
“You didn’t finish what you were saying. Are you okay?”
“Oh. Really?”
“I am sorry. I… is it okay if we stop talking for a little while?”
She refrained from further interrogation, yet confusion marked her expression.
“Okay.”
“Thank you.”
-
One night of a college student
A spacious room features an unusually large window facing east, with two beds on either side. One bed is positioned right next to the window, accompanied by a table and chair facing outward. The other table is situated between two beds on the north side, with a rocking chair. Two college students, Kaya and Naz, inhabit this room. An open laptop on the table facing the window displays a homework assignment, as if someone is in the midst of working. There’s an open pen on the table. The only source of light in the room comes from the study lamp on the table facing the window and the ambient light outside. The window is wide open, and “Gnossienne: No. 1” softly plays in the room, occasionally accompanied by the sound of sobbing.
The bed closer to the door on the west appears unused, with neatly layered blankets and precisely placed seven pillows, suggesting no one has slept there for a long time. The layered blankets also hold a pile of clothes. The half of the room towards the window is adorned with numerous motivational quotes taped to the wall, all centered around themes of achieving success through hard work, dedication, sacrifice, love for school, and perseverance. The abundance of quotes almost feels like a distraction from one’s true self rather than inspiration, steering them away from authenticity and towards an ideal pasted on the wall.
Naz is seated in the corner of the room next to her table, her head down and tucked between her legs. The force with which she wraps herself seems capable of turning her into a black hole or causing her to vanish. She raises her head, gazing at a picture frame beside her, featuring a man and a woman holding a little girl in a jeans jumper. Next to her is a notebook with a vibrant peacock on the hardcover. She opens the notebook to the page where she left her pen, reading the words in black ink, “I just want everything to stop. Just freeze. Stop.” She takes the black pen, aggressively scratches out the words, sighs, and drops the notebook and pen on the floor. Slowly getting up with the picture, she places it next to the lamp on her table, facing towards the chair, and sits down. Staring at the laptop screen, her phone beside it, and her notebook on the table with the pen without the lid, tears start falling again. She takes the pen without the lid, puts the lid back on, and places it next to her phone. She puts her head down on the table.
The lamp on her table starts flickering and goes off. Her laptop, cellphone, and iPad all shut down, as if all the energy has been drained. Suddenly, a strong ray of light enters the room through a small space between the blinds. She gets up in the dark room, unable to discern where she is walking, but moves toward the light. As she approaches the light, it dims, slowly dissolving into the background. Desperately trying to catch the dissolving light, she moves the blinds aside to let it all in, only to find complete darkness. There is not a single light source, not in her room, nor outside. It is pitch black. She stands there for some time, slowly sinking into the darkness. She hears a hubbub, as if every single person on the planet has started talking.
“What is going on?”
“Are you okay?”
“Did the power go out for you too?”
“I don’t have it either.”
After some time, the hubbub stops. She lets go of her body and lies down. The only sound is the sound of her inhale and exhale. The world is filled with a silence that is almost painful, yet she has a smile on her face.
Suddenly, the door opens. It’s Kaya.
“Naz, wake up!”
“Naz?”
Naz lifts her head off her table and looks bewilderedly at Kaya.
“Did you fall asleep while studying again?”
Naz looks at her Casio watch on her right wrist; it is 3 am in the morning.
-
Morning
It is a room with a large window, a brown sturdy table in the center, a gray and orange couch shoved on two side of the room. There are couple big paintings on the wall, and a whiteish gray rug almost covering the entire floor. It’s Saturday, Saayi is alseep on the couch with a dirty light blue rug covering almost 80% of her body. Her right leg on the ground and the other leg resting uncomfortably on the couch. She looks as if she had to squeez herself short to fit on the couch. Her long legs never hang from couches or chairs or benches unless they are abnormally tall. She takes a slight turn and tries to adjust her head on the cushion, but fails. Her head overflows from the couch and her right arm hangs down from her body and her fingers caressing the rug. Her eyes are shut, atleast she is trying to keep them shut, but her mind knows that it’s time to wake up.
The list of things she needs to do start flashing in her mind. School work. Research work. Paying work. Her professor. Her parents. Her dogs. All the emails she needs to send. Cooking food, doing groceries, going for a run, and all other things that demands some sort of mental or physical power, plays in her mind like a boringly long yet important power point slideshow. The brain works hard to come up with things to make one wake up. She takes another turn and pulls the blanket over her head which causes her feet to show. She feels the cold in her feet. She brings herself into the fetus position and wishes she never have to get out of her mother’s womb. She finds this weird and funny on how often she wishes she didn’t exist. Especially on a weekend. Immediately, she apologies for that wish and thanks for everything in her life.
“Who am I thanking?”
“Universe? No, light? No, parents?No, JUST GO BACK TO SLEEP”
She grunts, twists and turns. She cannot fathom the situation that is going on.
Today is saturday and Saayi can sleep, but the waking up at 6am, six out of seven days of the week have trained her mind to wake up early even on a Saturday. It is how the mind works, good or bad it tend to follow the pattern and want to keep that pattern, even the pathern that you occasionally want to break. She is 22 and she thinks she already understands adulthood. She often realizes that the saddest part of adulthood is wanting to do something, but not being able to do either because of habit or prior belief system.
The first day of her fellowship in France, she was hanging out with her work collegues. Majority of them smoked and after dinner when everyone started smoking, she got offered one. She accepted the cigratte because she wanted to smoke, but she held the cigratte and stared at it like if it was some sort of priceless art piece that she is asked to analyze. Her hand didn’t lift up to her mouth. She stood there looking at the burning cigarette and thought, “do it, just do it, do it, just once.” The offerer took the cigarette with a smile and without any remarks. She was glad. She apologized and that was that. She doesn’t want to do those things on a regular basis and she is confident on that. However, she also knows when she lays on her bed after a 17 hours day desprately trying to dive into a world which she will not remember in the morning, she thinks of cigarette, of alcohol, and of other things that she thinks might make her dive easier and faster. That’s why she knows that she should not be doing those things.
She is mad at herself because she can’t sleep in. The morning light penetrating through the cervasses of the blinds flashes her eyes with a light of thousand football stadium lights. She finally gives up and reaches for her phone, it says 6:46 am and there is a notification saying to turn off the 7am alram. She wakes up, turns off the alram, puts on her running furnishings, and goes for a run.
souvenir 