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Sunday, October 30, 2005

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Story
Destined for the journey
Tawsif Anam Zoheb
10/30/2005
 

          The melancholy eyes were dull and heavy was his heart as he, putting on his big black boots, went to stand in front of the mirror. He looked at himself, dressed in thick jeans pants and packed inside bulky brown jacket. His smooth hair had fallen over his eyebrows and he brushed them back with his fingers. The man, in his late twenties, was well built, but his soul was somewhat drooping, the feeling of which sometimes reflected in his movements.
Looking at the framed photo on the bedside table, he saw the smiling face of the beautiful young woman, his wife. Almost instantly, he wiped off the drop that appeared in the corner of his eye, with his index finger.
Outside it was cold and the sun hadn't come out properly yet. Peeping through the curtains, he observed the calm neighbourhood. As far as his eyes could penetrate through the mist, he did not detect a single movement. The tiled roofs of the houses were covered and the trees embellished, with snow. Everything seemed dispirited to him.
He opened his wall-closet and its interior drawer for the last time. His careful palms and fingers checked through all the pockets of his attire to find his car keys, bundle of fresh bank notes, and also a separate wallet containing more money and his credit card, some strips of medicines and his inhaler, his cell phone, in proper places. Picking up the keys of his apartment out from the drawer, and also the small but heavy suitcase that stood near the door of the bedroom, he came out of the room.
The small living room where he now stood, wore a doleful look. The things that once had life were dead now. Devoid of life was what he himself seemed to be, and he felt it. But he knew he could not sit back. Certain things were there that he would have to do, some particular matters would have to be solved. Thus, turning off the main electric switch and leaving his shelter in complete darkness, he locked the main door of his apartment and hurried down the stairs to the open parking space.
Placing his suitcase in the backseat and himself huddling in the driving seat, he ignited the car engine. The hoarse sound of the pistons penetrated the blanket of serenity and calmness. He remained in his seat for several minutes after turning on the heater, waiting for the engine to warm up and for the storm in his heart to die down.
He once again brushed back his silky black hair and put on the flat-cap that was on the dashboard. Finally, loosening his tightened lips and taking a very deep sigh, the man placed his heavy boot on the accelerator. With a jerking movement the vehicle moved forward and he steered his way through the lonely streets. As seconds passed, the sound of the car mixed with the mist and faded. It was a long journey ahead.
.........................................
zoheb_anam@yahoo.com

 

 
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