Thy Insect Pendant

I am always preoccupied with my insignificant thought as my wife would have sometimes normally said in certain circumstances that in my odd spare moments, I WRITE. But, it disappointed my few acquaintances, but I never asked them, Is it a crime?

I have just started type writing a letter, with my preoccupied thought out of business for the moment. A letter to be sent to an upcoming establishment.

The wanderer who calls himself the messenger, who thinks his credibility will not be dominating enough, any task has to be passed through him, even if you demand for a piece of chalk.

A mechanical voice sound from the speaker surrounds the entire floor, “Everyone must leave the building by 6:30. I repeat… ”

Alas, I have never been able to follow the correct timing to leave. Useless and meaningless. The messenger always sticks me with some useless work of correction in the documents.

The messenger, “You are always the slow brainer here, this work could have been over ten minutes earlier.”

Unfortunately, the task was given exactly ten minutes ago only. He has always been a pain in the neck since the day he interviewed me for the job with all the barking he can do. He needed a scapegoat at the end.

After an hour, I have finished my work. So many errors in a single document, makes you forget how you speak. Yet, I will be doing the exact same task at the last moment before the bell rings, and the day after and day after that. For past five days I have been stuck by lettering the letters properly.

I took my overcoat, walking down the corridor towards the lift which is running on generator, just like every day, power cut at this particular time.

The lift is having a moment of breathe to start slowly and I reach the ground floor. The security is busy with his transistor and he says, “Goodnight, Sir.”

Well, I forgot to reply him back, as I saw the bus is waiting in the opposite stand, I started running well without any luck it drove off quickly.

I have no other alternative left then just to walk for another thirty minutes to reach. My bicycle was stolen two days ago.  Never mind. Let there be a lonesome walker in this grungy streets of the so called Utopian Society.

A particular minuscule creature has been following me since the morning. Hardly visible with your naked eye, and yet with little bit of patience you can notice it without fail. Making a strange humming sound. Maybe she is trying to send me a message. Is it good, bad, or something in the middle?

I do not have the faintest idea, why do I always take into account of all this peculiar small intonations as the kind of forthcoming incidents. It’s been a habit since the day I passed my puberty. I have never known anyone till now who can follow me all the time with so much patience. If it was me following for a longer period of time, I would have killed it within a few seconds.

The moon looks luminously introduces the street werewolves in the corner to prowl over the passer-by with their green and dark eyes and the shining claws from hour to hour, they ripe and ripe, later from hour to hour, rot and rot and thereby hangs a tale by their very own exploits.

Finally, I am near to the square in one of the most crowded place of the Polis. So many dwellers with their family, friends, lovers, beggars, flag hoisters, officers, and gimmick of the glamour world. The luminescence disappears under the dust and its mindless directions with the touch of happiness, uproar and massacre of celeb popularity.

I reach my home, putting the lock inside the keyhole, the uncomfortable smell in the room makes me feel suffocated for the moment, I open up the windows, let there be fresh air.

The minuscular creature is still roaming around. I put my hat on the hook and suddenly makes an aggressive movement towards my right eyes and struck and then it flies away. I could not move away to miss her attack. My eyes feel the numbness. I put some water on my eyes from the wash basin and rub my right eye with the towel. I look into my mirror. That same old appearance of mine. Mild mannered, unshaved for three weeks, dirty, and darkened eyes.

I took a quick bath to freshen up myself, put on my night robe, start to warm up my supper, put on some music, and made myself comfortable on the armchair, after that I look at the portrait of my wife. She is beautiful. She always will be. Just left me from this world two months ago as she got spiritless with me.

With the feel of drowsiness, I closed my eyes, in my armchair. In that dream, I walk away into oblivion of dampness of revelation of days to come. Yet, it’s not believable.

I woke up in the morning, looking at my food smelling with some fly circling around. I threw it away, got myself ready for the day. Made myself porridge and wore my same office clown dress to restart my pathetic day. Little what I know, that malicious insect returns to circling around me again. I wanted to kill him. Him, I feel, it has some masculine aggressiveness at this moment.

Frantically, it follows me till the office. Then it vanishes suddenly when I enter the building. I am not able to concentrate on my work. The messenger swiftly comes towards me, he seemed to look unattractively like a hazed up obtrusive figure.

My hearing seems muffled. Tried to make my ears move to hear his pathetic commands. With darn luck he threw me last day’s work over my face. I cannot imagine the reason for his tasteless behavior. He winks at someone behind my back. I do not turn back. I do not care where he winks with winked ways. A feet ‘liquor’.

A humming sound and I saw the spiteful small creature circling around me irritatingly out of nowhere with a dark sarcasm it constantly bites on my face. I tried to defend myself to move away but it still follows. I slapped unknowingly on my face which created quite an echoing effect as everyone looks at me for a moment then they go back to their typing position.

Then to my embarrassment, I sit, the man and woman who are surrounding me, laughs and makes a quirky smile. I wonder, then I saw the creature in its dusty ways above the woman. I threw my paperweight over her and she is still laughing. The insect moves away but it hits her head and she collapses.

A sudden uproar. Every other living breathing turns their heads towards the situation and jumps over the confusion of the incident. They circle around the woman and kneels down to check her pulse with undue advantage, and commenting on the situation. The messenger marks at me, “YOU. YOU. THE CULPRIT. THE MADMAN IS HERE.”

“BEAT THE MADMAN. KILL THE MADMAN.” Everyone in the floor turns against me in a mechanical manner. The head clerk threw me a box which opened up instantly and I saw the creature multiplied to my horror. It is not only humming but roaring with the other human voices.

I tried to escape. I took a flight to run towards my route from this madness then it suddenly falters into a shape of a glass. I saw a reflection of mine running against the mirror and it cracked from side to side to let me succumbed into an undiscovered country from which no traveler has returned puzzled the will of the lonesome. Yet, he cracks into the stairs that continuously runs down stairs after stairs, step after step, there lies the oblivion of darkness mind. I standstill by fate. The floor moves unknowingly by some come kind of spiritual strength from one tile to another with hundred mirrors on both sides. My mind fails to establish the sequence of the cause and effect of my disastrous calamity.

An apparition drops like a radiant frosty water drops like the shape of an insect. It did not try to drive towards me. Yet, it recollects through a fade of liquefaction with hundred drops of water in the air stunningly stays still to make a formation of a beautiful lady whom I loved, respected and mutilated her through the power of my love. Her reflection repeats on each of the mirror surrounding. My movement failed. My eyes are flickering out of horror after seeing my wife’s apparition of truth, justice and honor. My impotence towards life made me make her suffer, to feel the hatred I killed her out of an affair. Like a dagger into my heart, my soul.

I cannot ask for forgiveness. She laughs at me in this oblivion. She closes her radiant eyes. She holds a chain positioning towards the floor with her hand. She pulls the chain towards my face. The golden chain with the incestuous pendant. The creature. I remember now. Her care for the gold chain, the pendant was her strength. She kissed the pendant every time before sleep. I remember, the first blood splashed into the pendant which killed my love. Took hold of the spirit of my wife.

Embraced to haunt me to death. The love that dishonored me. I, the serpent of death. I am the guilty, yet I do not forget the sound of the mountain when we consummated our love together and buried her into the same fountain of love without any remorse for the time.

And in my last moments, I hit the ground from the fifth stored building. Blood gushes out from my body, I meet my destiny. I took my last breathe and writing my own eulogy in heaven, where I see my wife standing playing the flute among the clouds and wearing a white robe. She smiles. Everything turns to black except my wife turning into monstrous insect with a scream which is inhuman, a howling shriek with a half triumph and horror over me. I kept running through the stairs of hell till I drop into the fireball and consumed by it, forever.   FOREVER.