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Mirror Of Erised
Mirror Of Erised

© Deveshi Chawda


2 Minutes   14.2K    4

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For them, his abhorrence knew no bound

How they danced and pranced about

Basking in the glory of their might

Jumping up from the pages to demean him

Those nasty nebulous necromantic nefarious numbers!

With their nugatory functions, permutations and combinations

They made him feel like a nullity.

And one day, The Day of Judgment arrived.

It was either words or numbers for the rest of his life

(Words! Words! Words! Words!)

Numbers, his father declared, almost nonchalantly.

And those niggardly numbers emerged victorious, yet again.


The fan creaked and groaned and his heart wailed in unison.

To himself he seemed numb

And his ears caught the interviewer’s words in phrases

“Seem to have no aptitude for numbers….”

“Will have to test...”

“Many tasks…first, calculate the total marks of the board examination papers”

“Five days...complete fifteen thousand papers…”

(Sheer usage of unwanted labour!)

An excellent opportunity to prove yourself, his father declared.


So t…i…r….e…d, only half conscious, ceaseless sheaf of papers glaring at him

Twenty plus ten plus...heavy eyes fluttered close to a fitful dose of slumber 


Heart hammering, pressure mounting, stress escalating

Please wait…read the screen

Crawlingly, deliberately, leisurely it loaded

The numbers ran favorably…hundred…ninety-eight…

…Economics: Sixty/Hundred

The lights existed no more, the room was but darkness.

Aggregate percentage: Ninety one

No sound but haunting echoes of the past ringing explosively loud

“She cannot, not even willingly, get an aggregate below ninety seven, her dream college is hers!”

“She will make the school proud”

Ninety one dominoes of dreams crashed in an instant

None dared to speak.

Voluble silence giving way to shrieks of unbelievable despair

Shrieks of unbelievable despair giving way to deafening numbness.


Hope mutilated, self-confidence massacred.


Sitting in the room alone now, all doors physical and metaphysical, locked.

Loud knocks outside.

Walls of self-despise too thick for love to penetrate.

Only jagged edges running along the softness of skin could provide salvation now!

Here, life gushing out of severed veins and loved ones dying alive

There, a writer still struggling with those nasty nebulous necromantic nefarious numbers.

Butterfly effect shattered dreams hope in vain

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