Veins4 mins 139 4 mins 139
Tulshee looked out the window. Her eyes burned at the sight of such beauty. She rubbed her eyes once more, losing count of how many times in the last hour. The weather outside mirrored the ambiance in her eyes, both destructively stormy. Losing count of the days, Tulshee knew it was a few days past Baishakh and the storm raging outside announced the arrival of the destructively beautiful Baishakh storm. She wanted to get up from her bed, but the lazy ambiance in her room was hallucinatory. Her legs ached and her nose ran, she felt like she was part of the storm outside.
‘That’s some relief.’ She thought.
The cold gust of wind outside called to her, its whistling tones whispering ever so slightly in her ears. She responded to the raging storm.
‘I’m coming’ she said, ‘just give me a minute to gather myself.’
Perching herself up on her bed, she looked out through the only window in her room. The window was old, and rusty- she liked it that way. It did not open the whole way through, jamming itself only halfway. At one side of the glass window, was a crack- like veins on a human body. The crack on the window made it vulnerable to the outside storm as if a strong gust of wind could tear it apart. Tulshee did not mind though, ‘so what if the window is a little broken and a little rusty?’ The old and faded turquoise curtains flapped against the chilly wind as if extending its hands to Tulshee.
‘Yes, yes- I'm coming.’
As she left her bed, a sharp pain shot up her right leg. Tulshee grabbed her leg and sat back on her bed, her eyes blinded by the pain and her ears ringing at the sudden burst of thunder outside. She looked out her half-jammed window- as if the sky was screaming at her.
‘I'm sorry’ she muttered to no one.
Tulshee massaged her right leg over her pajamas, feeling over the countless bumps and ridges on her skin. ‘Its like a map’ she thought, ‘of an uneven and cracked desert land.’ Half a minute later, she muttered, ‘but a map to where?’
She lied back on her bed, utterly powerless. Her eyes traced the cracks on the window, like a maze that never begins and never ends. For a moment, Tulshee got lost in the vein-like pattern on the window cracks- the raging storm outside, the thunder, the lightning, the wind, the locked door, the almost empty room, the patterns on her legs- all became a distant memory. Her eyes only saw the window veins, all else faded away. For a moment, Tulshee considered breaking free from her locked room but immediately discarded the idea.
‘Break free and go where, Tulshee?’ she thought, ‘you’re the real danger, not the locked door.’
She closed her eyes and tried not to listen to the storm outside. She craved silence- no tender whispers of wind and no raging screams of thunder. Just silence, nothing else. But the storm raged on, and the wind still whispered, the thunder still shouting at her. She could not keep her eyes shut; they wouldn’t let her. Her eyes traced the pattern on her broken window veins, once again.
As she left her bed, in pain, she muttered, ‘I'm sorry, I'm sorry’ over and over again. Tulshee stood in front of the window, and the wind kissed her ever so slightly, the thunder sounded gentler as it lit up her darkroom. The turquoise curtains on her broken window stopped flapping. The fingers on her left hand traced the vein-like pattern on the broken glass window. Her right hand clutched onto the cold and solid rock. As she gently hit the broken window with her rock, a cold gust of wind enveloped her- encouraging her onwards. A few more nudges and she held in her hands, a sharp and pointy glass piece. A rush of sadness overcame her- she did not want to take a piece of the window away. She clasped onto the broken glass piece, and her eyes went over the vein-like pattern on its surface. Still clutching onto the broken glass, she traced the bumps and ridges on her right leg- burning...warm. She looked up at the sky, now clear, and muttered for the last time,