It was the usual vernal dusk of fall. Mellow puffs of air genially tingled the body. The world juddered at the tips of those flares of fire. The boy was staring into the flames as the specters of his life resurfaced.
It was the advent of spring, and air smacked of loamy odour. Under the dim of eventide, he was waylaid and robbed by a bunch of crooks. The jitters ended after a few days, but the ideation of that event used to bug the boy. He had sensed some familiar themes of gestures in one of those crooks. He suspected the man to be the one, and his vague acquaintance as a neighbour a reason of his being left unscathed.
Two days after the incident: He saw the man going for his usual chores. The man reciprocated. But the boy was too boggled to say anything. After all, what stalked him were idle concoctions of his mind based on some wispy cues. The boy's fear of himself being wrong and the man being offended kept him away from confirming his thoughts.
But this was not all. The boy used to perceive certain reactions that kept on stoking his fire of doubts- the man's askance glances, his diffident demeanour and grapevines of his vitiated past.
Thus went on the sequence of suspicion, shirking away and exchanging furtive coup d'oeils.
The boy had firmly decided to confront the man with his apprehensions. And years passed.
The boy had never expected this to happen.
The exequies had been over, but those cantillations were still ringing his mind. He saw the distinct lineation of the man's body gradually segue itself into those rising & crackling flames of fire. The man had gone. And henceforth went all his chances to know the truth, chances of reifying his figments, chances of jotting down some unwritten chapters of a would-have-been life. He digressed again as his mind riffled through the past years of his life.
As a last hope to convey his long cherished gratitude and in the optimism that somewhere his astral form would perceive it, he intoned some words which surpassed the sentient senses of any of the mortals nearby.
It was the advent of spring, and air smacked of loamy odour. Under the dim of eventide, he was waylaid and robbed by a bunch of crooks. The jitters ended after a few days, but the ideation of that event used to bug the boy. He had sensed some familiar themes of gestures in one of those crooks. He suspected the man to be the one, and his vague acquaintance as a neighbour a reason of his being left unscathed.
Two days after the incident: He saw the man going for his usual chores. The man reciprocated. But the boy was too boggled to say anything. After all, what stalked him were idle concoctions of his mind based on some wispy cues. The boy's fear of himself being wrong and the man being offended kept him away from confirming his thoughts.
But this was not all. The boy used to perceive certain reactions that kept on stoking his fire of doubts- the man's askance glances, his diffident demeanour and grapevines of his vitiated past.
Thus went on the sequence of suspicion, shirking away and exchanging furtive coup d'oeils.
The boy had firmly decided to confront the man with his apprehensions. And years passed.
The boy had never expected this to happen.
The exequies had been over, but those cantillations were still ringing his mind. He saw the distinct lineation of the man's body gradually segue itself into those rising & crackling flames of fire. The man had gone. And henceforth went all his chances to know the truth, chances of reifying his figments, chances of jotting down some unwritten chapters of a would-have-been life. He digressed again as his mind riffled through the past years of his life.
As a last hope to convey his long cherished gratitude and in the optimism that somewhere his astral form would perceive it, he intoned some words which surpassed the sentient senses of any of the mortals nearby.
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