Blue

It's nearly 3:30 am and I am a bit junked...I feel like writing. Not sure, though, what I want to write, but writing calms me down so i will, following my impulse and little bit of soul power.

The air was dense, filled with a peculiar stench, something like a concoction of rotting human flesh in flames and burning rubber. The flames were not the regular gleaming orange in colour, they were more of an eerie blue with traces of an enraged red. A silent wind wafted around engulfing her with little droplets of water which promised rain. Rain, which always liberated her and made her insane with joy – today, it had no impact. She sat amidst a pile of broken furniture and burning books, looking closely at a picture of them in a distance and holding tightly on to a small blue rug she had picked up from the market earlier that day. The fire around her danced menacingly, inching precariously close with every passing moment. But she sat motionless, indifferent to any danger, any life within her at all. The blaring sounds of sirens at a distance did not disturb her trance, as her life was falling apart all around her.

“Baby, come on, we have to get going right now. They’re coming for us,” he said while running into the room through the only opening the flames had left. Suddenly, as if woken from a deep slumber, she looked up to where he stood with his otherwise always in shape hair, messed up and doing their own little dance. “Baby, please, let’s go.” His clothes were tattered, stained with blood, she assumed some of it was his own and the rest…Their picture that she was staring at, suddenly burst into flames.

“I bought this blue rug today to put in the study. It would go beautifully with the blue curtains,” she said. He looked around, the study was being reduced to ashes right as she spoke. “…and I bought these books for you, they are collector’s edition, very rare.” He looked at her straight face void of any expression. “Honey, we really have to go. Can you not hear the sirens? They’re getting closer. We must leave now,” desperation in his voice was evident. “Just a minute more, please. Leave me with my life for just one moment.”

She looked at the rug on her lap and smelt it. “It smells so new.” He was getting anxious now and sat down next to her. “Look baby, the curtains are on fire, the books are all burnt. We can’t stay here any longer or we will die, or much worse, they will catch us. Do you know the things they do to people in prison?” “You remember the swing we put up in the front yard? How much we laughed that day after we first sat on it and it caved,” she said oblivious to his exasperation.

The sound of the sirens was getting louder now. “I beg you, honey, please, let’s go. We can’t be here any longer. Please, come with me,” he said. This time his voice quaked a little. She looked up and saw a lonely tear roll down his eye. “I can’t forget the day we bought this house. You were looking so handsome and I was such a mess. You remember we promised we would never leave each other. I picked out inexpensive but precious China from the market that day to celebrate our life and happiness. Oh, what a horrible meal we had cooked together and how we ate it outside, under the stars and talked all night long,” she smiled. He was now on his knees. “I am so sorry for what happened. But it’s done. Look at yourself. You are drenched in blood, your face is bleeding. Snap out of what could have been and face this reality. We have to leave now. Please don’t do this to me. Come on honey, let’s go.” The room was now filled with smoke as the rain came pouring down on the now roofless house, slowly killing the blue flames.

“We were to have two children and that’s why we picked up this house, away from the horrid city and perfect to raise children. You promised everything would be fine, you would fix everything,” she said, her eyes welling up a little. “You know how much I had to search to find these perfect blue curtains and rug and these books? The swing, our beautiful swing, you said you loved it. It is our anniversary today. You forgot like every year, didn’t you? Where are my flowers baby?”

“Honey, I love you, but please don’t do this to me.” He sat there looking at her beautiful face, now pale and sparkling eyes, now dead. The sirens were dangerously close now. “I made cake, black forest, your favourite; and there’s wine in the fridge. There’s also one more present for you on the dresser in our room. Did you see it?” She smiled, still clutching on to the rug. He stood there, weeping like a child now, looking at her empty eyes. “You know I love tulips, don’t you?” she asked, looking at him. A tear rolled down her eye, but even she wasn’t aware of it because of the rain.

“Honey, please…” he said with a quivering voice, filled with desperation. “Just a minute more, please, just one moment,” she said as the sirens drew closer.