Family Suspense Story – The Crimson Shadows
Photo credit: cooee from morguefile.com
The river intimidates me but I had to make a decision about how to end my life. The fire within me had extinguished long ago and I don’t want another. Jumping off a cliff is not an option here. Poison wouldn’t work on me as I feel my blood is already soiled. So the only option left is to dive myself into the river and end this miserable life. But the water in the river looks excruciatingly cold and beneath the apparent calm of the river lies a world of unforgiving currents. Currents to rip your body apart and to push you far far away. Funny thing is, a man wanting to die should not complain about the icy cold water or the currents that hurt like splinters. This is the least I deserve, considering the pain I have inflicted on people who loved me.
I was a fool and I knew this long before I let the things go out of control. May be because I was too proud to admit my tragic flaws. May be my soul was darkened and held hostage by an unknown force. Thus I led myself on a never ending mission of hatred; did the ultimate betrayal to the man who’d wanted to give me reasons to live and smile. He tried and tried but I never smiled. Now, when I am about to fling myself into the river waiting for life to seep away from me, I see a smiling face of a man and the whole truth is laid in front of me once again. This time I see it in its totality and regret everything.
But not this final act. Soon, I will be smiling with my body getting used to the water and my lungs finally giving up. The ebbs would try to fetch me away to the bottom of this vast river. In these moments between life and death, I would relive the memories.
They say, my mother died the day I was born and when the women in the house howled over my dead mother’s body the man was working on his last set order of the day. He was a blacksmith and stooping over his tools he was trying hard to concentrate. But he was nervous. Unable to do so he got out of his rusty workshop, crossed the yard and vomited in front of the gloomy house. Nausea was gripping him and he felt slight dizzy. But amidst all the howling and spinning of his head, he heard a feeble cry of an infant.
No, he wasn’t my father. My father was dead six months before I was born. Stress your nerves a little and you could imagine how unfortunate I must have felt at that moment. I know I was as tiny as a thumb but I can tell my grief was enormous. Believe me, infants understand things as much as the grown-ups do. Just that they forget things as time passes and begin with a clean slate once again.
Somehow I didn’t.
Now coming back to the man, he was my father’s elder brother. On the second day of my mother’s death, my uncle adopted me along with the other three children my parents had left orphaned in this world. And this is where the story of my hatred begins.
I grew up resenting my own presence in this world and hating my uncle for his empathy each and every moment. I wanted to wage war against the world for their pity and the love my uncle and aunt split up for us from their only child’s share. I don’t know about my siblings for I could see gratitude in their eyes but I used to feel guilty in front of my cousin for robbing him off his sole right to his parents’ attention. The guilt turned into hatred and one day I hit him with a bamboo pole thick enough to bleed him to death. Unfortunately, my plan to kill him that day wasn’t a good one.
I had the bamboo pole hid near the bushes in front of the gate while I waited for my brother to emerge with his wife. It was a sunny day. They decided to take the scooter for a change and I smiled in cruel joy. As they made a turn after crossing the gate I decided to do a summersault into the main road. the scooter stopped; their expressions- a mixture of shock and bewilderment. The next thing I did was to remove the scrap of cloth I was wearing. I stood there naked for a few moments and smiled. The wife cried in disgust.
As planned, this was enough to provoke my cousin. The next thing that happened was, he chased me in rage to the bushes . I had a few moments to react, lifted the bamboo pole and hit him in his head with all the strength I had in my body. He fell down, blood trickling down his temples but he didn’t die. He was wearing a helmet.
Fearing for their life the couple and their children left for the city the very next day. Although deeply saddened from having to part with his only child, my old uncle refused to budge as he was determined that he would live in that old house as long as he lived.
By that time, I was already living in the guava orchard they had at the back of the house. This used to be my only retreat as a child whenever I used to feel the pangs of jealousy, hatred or whatever you call those dark feelings. I had made a tree house on one of the guava trees. Away from the house and the empathetic eyes, I would spend hours drawing random things with scales and compasses, at the same time contemplating the serenity of the orchard. Those paintings meant nothing. Just abstracts.
It was a beautiful place with lines of guava trees which shone under the sun and cast light yellowish shadows on the ground. Later, having outgrown the tree house, I had started living in a small hut right behind the orchard.
Days after my cousin had left for the city, I felt a bit of remorse. However, not enough to apologize or mend things. My reality was gradually slipping away from me, I could tell. I had taken to dope and the smoke would cloud my mind as well. True, it did help me numb my pain and loneliness. What I didn’t know was, it was also making my blood soiled, my heart more bitter. Gradually, the remorse turned into satisfaction that I was capable of inflicting pain on others. This would make me smile.
In one of these days, the old uncle came looking for me into the orchard when I was trying to draw something with a compass on the tattered notebook I had. He smiled at me, the empathetic smile I hated the most. Deep within I could feel my blood heat up.
He came closer and said ” I forgive you for everything for I know your soul has suffered a lot”.
I inquired, “Do you?”
This time he didn’t reply, just nodded. and at that very moment something changed. I felt some emotions I cannot describe. I got up and hugged him. My throat was dry and somehow i manage to mumble, “say that again”.
He smiled and as he hugged me back and repeated the words with the same warmth I drove my compass into his heart.
Suddenly, the yellowish shadows of the guava trees on the ground turned crimson.
__END__
