Skip to main content

Shady

For 52 years he had been going there every night. Every single night he would carry his lamp, sit in front of the wall and talk to his friend. He had met him when he was 16 and all these years they had shared practically everything.

He would discuss his lost love, failed marriage, great jobs, psycho bosses...everything...his friend would listen, comfort him and offer advice every now and then. They would argue at times but reached consensus in the end.

He was always at peace when they were together. No matter how hard the day would be, it was the nights he looked forward to, never caring for what others had to say. As he grew older the visits became longer. They would still meet in front of the wall, now dilapidated and he would still carry his old lamp. He even started spending the whole night there talking with his only friend who never left him.

One day, he was found dead in front of the same wall, his friend was nowhere in sight. But even though he lays buried in the graveyard, his shadow awaits for him every night at the wall.

Comments

Anonymous said…
,-.,-"`""-./　\
　　　　/　　\　　　　`-.|　　　　.:::.:::.
　　　　\　　/　　　　　　`-._　　:::::::::
　　　　|　　　　　　　　　"=\　　':::::'
　　　　|　　　　.=="　　|o_|_　　　':'
　　　　|　　　　　_o.　　　`　(_)　　　　　,;;;,;;;,
　　　　;　　　　　　　　　　　\\　　　　　.;;;;;;;;;
　　　　\　　　　　　　_.　　　/|-.　　　　　';;;;;'
　　　　　\　　　　　　`　`'---'/　　\　　　　　';'
　　　　　\　　　　.--._　　　/-'　　|
　　　　　,-`.　　/　　　`-._(　　　/
　　　　　`-._`-._\　　　　　`\　　'\
　　　　　　(　`　　`'._　_,　　|　　\
　　　　　　/　　~-.　　`|　　　|　　|
　　　　　/　　　　`;-.|　　　|　　|
　　　　.'　\　　　　　/|　　　|　　/
　　　.'-.　　'.　　　|　\　　　|　.'
　　　`-._　　　'.　　|　　　　/"`　`\
...../　`"--.,_'-._\-.___.'_　　　;
　　　/　　　　　`""";--'　　　`.　　|
　　　/　　　　　　.'`　　　　　　\　/""-.
　　;　　　　　　/　　　　　　　　\""-,　\
　　|　　　　　　/　　　　　　　　　|　　\　|
　　\　　　　　　|　　　　　'.　　　　　　|/
　　　'.　　　　　\　　　　　.'`-.　　　　/
　　　　'._　　　　'.,___,.;'　　'-.___.'


Hmmm..........
March 26, 2007 at 9:13 PM
Alesea said…
so finally....anywayz cary on wid d good work
March 28, 2007 at 7:43 AM
SiD said…
yeh kya darna zaroori part 2 ki script hai??
April 5, 2007 at 9:44 AM
Pallav said…
Good idea, but somehow one can see the end right at the beginning...or may be its just me :)

Good work!

N
April 7, 2007 at 6:29 AM
Bharti Bedi said…
@sid:
tu bevakoof hi rahega...but neways thanx for reading atleast

@NM:
u r just too good i guess :)
keep reading.
April 7, 2007 at 6:55 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

White

WHITE It’s the colour of mourning. It's the colour of celebration. It's the colour of peace. It's the colour of happiness. It's pure, calm, serene, and honest. It’s the colour of the first meal that baby takes. It’s the colour of maturity on a person’s head. It’s the colour of the moonlight. It’s the colour of the clouds. It’s the colour of the sea foam. It’s the screechy chalk on the black board. It’s the clean surface of the white board. Mixes with every other colour to give it a new identity. It makes red go pink. It turns the black into grey. And it's just White *********************************** What comes to your mind when you think of White.. Write back…
14 comments
Read more

Of words, stories and assignments

While going through a pile of papers I found something interesting A year ago, when I joined my first year classes, I got an assignment in creative writing on the first day itself. We were given 5 words and we were asked to build a story around them. There was no constraint on the word usage but I chose to stick to as less as possible. The words were: DOOR, AXE, MIRROR, DRAIN, LEGS Here are the two versions that I wrote: #1: His legs grew heavier as he unlocked his front door . He looked tired and drained out but his clothes still smelled of his favourite AXE deodorant. Although he was still in his early thirties, the mirror reflected a different story. All he needed right now was a nice cup of coffee. #2: She was woken up in the middle of the night by a noise. It was like an axe hitting a metal. At first she thought she was dreaming but then she heard it again. Mustering up all her courage, she moved into the hall. Something on her right moved and ...
15 comments
Read more

Silent nights

Emily heard the wind swooshing against her window. Another stormy night, she thought. She dragged herself out of the bed, stepped into the balcony. The eerie silence greeted her. The trees were as still as the night and all she could hear was the silent humming of the air-conditioners. Thinking her half-dreaming, half- awake mind was playing games, she went back to her sleep. She was woken up again. She was sure there was a storm in her window. She did not go out to check this time though. Not because she was dreaming but because she knew the calm night outside would never come to know about the storms inside.
7 comments
Read more