Social Short Story – Painful Vengeance
Photo credit: kamuelaboy from morguefile.com
The lush greenness in the park was a sight for the sore eyes, the weather was complimentary, the birds’ orchestra was bliss to her ears, she gazed at the kids playing across the pond, smiled at herself and immersed into the remarkable work of Rabindranath Tagore, which narrated to her a tragedy that turns the protagonist’s life upside down. She saw glimpses of her life in the book, a tragedy that struck her and kept her company for the days to come. A burning, painful revenge, for a reason so trivial, so insignificant; an innocent victim of the most ruthless attack, committed by man.
A man she loved, a man she trusted, a man she would turn to when in despair, a man she would look for to share her happiness. All he had for her was venom in a bottle, which brought her writhing pain, and unforgettable scars that the mirror showed, and some that the mirror didn’t. She was a perturbed prey of her ex-lover, who suspected her of betrayal. But, never did she feel the need to hide, to weep in the dark, to fear from being shunned, or being an object many would dread. Her courage to fight for, what was right helped her gain the confidence to walk the streets like she always used to, and so she did. The constant stares she was used to, came along from many, old, young, couples, beggars. Sometimes her head was bent low, aware about the curious faces that hovered over her.
The pages she flipped, the concentration she maintained, was interrupted, by a petite framed body, he looked at her smiling, leaning against the bench which was shedding its paint. His innocent eyes showed compassion and love she hadn’t noticed in many. He pulled himself up with the help of the bench and placed himself right beside her. He looked at her interestedly, but not intimidatingly. As he slipped his hand under hers, pressing into her palm with something cold and squishy. She opened her palm to notice a piece of marshmallow, sitting on the centre of her palm.
“Have it. Or else I will!” His grinning face stared at her.
She sat chewing the sweetness that melted in her mouth. She saw a woman in a distance frantically calling out for someone, as their eyes met; she saw the woman come running towards her and her new friend. As she neared, the expression on her face changed from anger, to dismay to extreme sympathy. The little boy leapt from the bench and screamed out, “Mom look…I found an alien friend! I told you aliens do exist.”
The mother listened to her son in shock and clasped his mouth before he would utter anything else. She gaped at the ignorant child, who had just made her a creature from the outer space, a being which could not be associated with the residents of the planet she was living in. The mother apologized profusely, her face flushed, as she left guiltily, dragging the boy along, who waved at her as he left.
The breeze flicked the pages of the book and out flew a photograph of a young woman, attractive and appealing, the same who sat on the bench overlooking the pond, the birds, and the plush foliage, as a tear, a long delayed one rolled down her cheek.
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