Rage.

I’ve jumped through hoops

Of iron hot

They singed my skin

And let it rot

But now I know, no matter what I do

I’ll never  be good enough for you.

This pain in me

Of burning ache-

You pretend to care

But you think its fake.

So I tell myself, what they say is true

I’ll never be good enough for you.

There’ll come a day when you’ll finally see

I meant every word I said to you

You’ll be crawling back with an apology

But you know what? Screw you.

NIGHTMARE

I wrote the following "story" a few months ago, on a momentary whim.It was just one of those sudden,weird ideas,really-thoughts that "jump" into my head at a moments notice.

Critics observed that the story is inspired,albeit unconsciously, by an old Uttam Kumar film. Want to decide for yourself? Please read on...

She saw him, again.

Even as his mouth transformed into a long, needle-like shape, his entire face seemed to contour into a sinister, mocking smile. The now familiar pair of greedy eyes spoke of the inevitable danger as the dark figure stole towards her across the cold floor, overwhelmed by the desire to suck out every drop of blood circulating through her veins...
She let out a piercing scream that echoed through the empty night.

Early next morning, a young woman hurried down a New York sidewalk. With every step she took, she put up a fierce protest against the powerful wind that threatened to push her back.
The woman was Violet Isabel, a brown-eyed, raven-tressed damsel who spent the hours of daylight working as a lobby-receptionist at the grand Hilton hotel in Times Square and whiled away the better part of the night on the dance floor of elite clubs. From time to time, she glanced down at her wrist watch anxiously, a deep frown etched across her forehead. Lack of sleep the night before had left unsightly dark circles under soft, brown eyes, which shone with some secret fear.
Fifteen minutes later, the lights in a posh residential building were switched on.
“I’m glad you called, but at such an unearthly hour…” Dr. Jones spoke, his voice trailing off into uncertainty.
Miss Isabel was lucky, and she knew it. It was very seldom that a psychologist as renowned as Dr. Jones took so much interest in a case. So much so that they did not mind allowing the patient into the privacy of their home even in early morning, hours before the door of his chamber were opened to the usual crowd.

“Doctor, I am terribly sorry to disturb you” she said apologetically. “I simply had to see you. I saw IT again.”
These seemingly simple words had a dramatic effect on Dr. Jones.
An electrical excitement ran down his spine and he looked into her frightened eyes intently. Miss Isabel had been coming to him for a month now, with complaints of a terrible sight that left her sweating uncontrollably even on chilly, winter nights.

"Must have been pretty real, to have sent her running to me without any care for the time or place."
Even as he thought, he sprang up from his chair and bolted the gaping door behind him.
“I have no intentions of adding to your fear, Miss Isabel”, he explained, on turning around just in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of renewed anxiety in the brown eyes. “I closed the door as assurance to discuss this serious matter away from anyone listening on the sly and also to, err, protect you from any devil waiting by the door with a raised dagger”
Violet permitted herself a faint smile.
“I am terribly ashamed of my cowardice, Doctor”; she said “I was terrorized by what I saw---“
“By what you think you saw” the psychologist corrected her. “For all the evidence you have, it might be nothing but a stupid nightmare after some hardcore drinking at one of the clubs you frequent, I suppose”
Had he said this a couple of weeks ago, Violet would have turned the brightest shade of tomato-red. But now, intense fear had erased almost every other emotion from her system. She looked into the doctor’s eyes pleadingly.
“You may think I’m imagining it, and it’s some sort of disease, but, believe me, Doctor, it was surreal. If only you knew what it feels like to look into the cruel eyes of someone about to kill you...and that needle-like thing in place of his mouth-one moment, he was smiling like a mad man, the next moment, his mouth transformed into a sharp needle, like...like...”
“Like this?” Dr. Jones inquired, advancing towards the slender figure resting on the patient’s chair, just as his mouth gradually transfigured into a long, needle-like form, his eyes blazing with the familiar feeling of uncontrollable greed...

That Night. (Continued)

Part IV

"Is everything okay,Officer?"

The sharp panic in Grandma's voice pricked through my numb senses, like hot iron on frozen flesh.

"Apparently,no".said Mr. Stuart, of the local police station.

Mr. Stuart had arrived a quarter of an hour ago,but it felt as though weeks had passed since I'd run into Dad in the corridor.Failing to recognize him in the dark, I'd thought the man at the window was after me!

As I was told later,Dad had woken up at my terrified screams and rushed out to see what had happened.
"The way you shrieked- I nearly jumped out of my skin! I thought you were dying" he now says.

After an unsuccessful search for the man in my bedroom,the entire family(for my screams had spared none-not even Tabby,the house cat),rushed out into the garden for one last try.

There we found him.

He was resting against the wall by my window,his eyes shut as though fast asleep.

I don't remember well,but that's probably when Mom called the police.

"Here,we found this in the coat pocket"said Mr. Stuart,placing something small on Dad's open palm.
It was a yellow torch.
Beads of sweat trickled down from my forehead.Something seemed to turn in my stomach.

"We also went through his bag",Mr. Stuart continued "Found a water container and an empty food can.We believe he was travelling far.had been walking a great deal, by the terrible state of his shoes", he added with a dry chuckle.

"Who is he?" Mom asked.

For some reason, my hands felt hot and sweaty.

"Was" The officer corrected Mom. "The man was completely exhausted when he came here.Looks like he wanted to rest in the garden.The experts' been checking him.Says he's been dead for at least four hours.Over fatigue suspected",he said impassively, as though he'd just been commenting on the weather.

"But,I thought you said he was at your window less than an hour ago?"Grandma's said,looking into my face.Her voice sounded strange and distant,though she was sitting right beside me.Her face strained to feign calmness.

I tried to nod,but my head wouldn't move.I thought of the stranger at the window,the steely gaze of a man who was supposed to be dead and cold.

Something sour oozed up my throat.I threw up on the carpet.