Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Diva-

“Yours

I was
still am
always will be.”

His eyes were red. They emitted fire. His hair was all messed up. Like his life. He would pull his hair, kick his bed, his door, and cry. Tears wouldn’t stop for even a minute – nor would he make any effort of that kind. He was too weak, so helpless, that any effort to push back the inevitable seemed useless.

He kept pacing around the small room with a mind too full or blank. I am not sure he knew what he was doing or what he could, because he didn’t seem to show that in his ways.

Between his wails a name unknowingly escaped his lips. Her name. His secret. He sat down suddenly on the floor and began staring his palms. Her name was his object, and how he worshiped it. It was his everything. She was his everything!

But nothing was same anymore. His secret was the talk of the town then. Everybody was curious about her; how she had died. How she had been killed. How anyone like her so young, pretty, freecould be killed?!

She was free, as they knew, but there are always things which you think you know though you don’t, no? She was enslaved too. He was her master. Like she was his mistress, his diva.

He got up weakly and went towards the small table on his bedside. A crumpled ball of yellow sheet laid there on the floor;  rejected, thrown. He picked it up and unfolded the creases carefully to not bring any more damage. It was his last hope. He began reading…

“Yours

I was
still am
always will be.”

It were just those four lines, those few words that brought him to tears again. He started to scream violently, repeating her name again and again as if it were his medicine. As if she would return if he would call her now. But some things just don’t return to normal once you hurt them, do they?

He had killed her. He was his master, and his murderer. And he thought he loved her…

Startled by a bell, he looked at the door. A man in uniform stood there. He asked him a few unnecessary questions, stole a quick inspective glance at his room, and patted his shoulder. Told him he understood his pain, his own wife had died not too long ago. Asked him to please hold on, to not give up. To God we belong and to Him shall we return.

He sat down on his bed, alone again, and rubbed his eyes. A sudden throbbing pain in his head started all of a sudden, forcing him to shriek. He clenched his fist and hit his forehead multiple times the pain didn’t leave, of course.

“Yours – I was”
yes, she was his.
Since ever. She had always lived for him. He was her first prayer. Her first and only sawaal, minnat, dua. And last.

“Yours – I still am”
“Are you? Are you still?” he asked. “Come back! Will you come back?” he cried. The memories of her falling on his feet flashed back that instant, and he could see again how he had done it. How he had killed a begging diva...

Shouts. Cries. Clarifications. Slowly his mind began to lose its power to comprehend each voice and with each next note added a different melody. He touched her side of the bed rather helplessly as tears rolled down his eyes when he shut them close. It was then that a silver figure walked gracefully to his side and placed her hand gently on his head, to put him to sleep.

Yours I always will be, she whispered.

Maria Imran.

16 responses

  1. Beautiful story Maria. The madness of love being expressed so perfectly. “Yours
    I was
    still am
    always will be.
    Love it !

    August 6, 2014 at 2:03 am

  2. “He sat down suddenly on the floor and began staring his palms”…this is as if he is in dua, praying either for her or to her. Great imagery!!

    August 6, 2014 at 5:27 am

  3. How could he kill her…im blank..

    August 9, 2014 at 2:56 pm

  4. Now that’s a domestic tragedy. Powerful imagery though. Great work, Maria.🙂

    August 11, 2014 at 1:16 pm

  5. Jari Ullah

    Nicely written! Though I am not fond of reading general emotions but it doesn’t mean I cannot feel them🙂 Its nice experience to read your latest words.

    August 12, 2014 at 3:00 am

    • Barray loug! ^_^ Thank you so much!🙂 So glad you stopped by.

      August 12, 2014 at 4:58 pm

      • Jari Ullah

        I am chhota log🙂 Not barra log. Welcome🙂

        August 15, 2014 at 1:27 am

  6. Three short sentences. Almost utterances. His eyes were red. They emitted fire. His hair was all messed up. His hair was messed and his eyes were on fire. Bit cliched. Play around with syntax and word choice. Make sentences stronger and images stand out.

    August 17, 2014 at 11:18 pm

    • You’re right. I’ll work on that. Thank you so very much for your valuable feedback.🙂

      August 20, 2014 at 2:05 pm

  7. I must say, I was intrigued by your story.🙂 Usually I’m not into this kind of story, but it got my attention from the very beginning! Well-written, and like VelanéDeBeauté said, good imagery!🙂

    August 18, 2014 at 5:55 am

    • Wow, that’s so nice to hear! Thanks a million for your kind comment. You made my day!🙂

      August 20, 2014 at 2:16 pm

  8. Beautiful and intense

    September 23, 2014 at 1:12 am

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