Wednesday, 23 September 2015

Dream?


He must have been dreaming; he was certain that he had seen her but only in his dream. It was raining and she was peeping through the window. He was sure it was her; it had to be her.

But deep within he was shivering; it could not have been a dream. He was quite awake and was enjoying a cup of exotic green tea. She had brought it when she had gone to Japan.

He had been cursing himself for being extremely rash and violent; he had not given her even a chance to explain anything. It had always been like that with him. Every time he had blundered and learnt no lessons.

He had gone back to that tragic moment a hundred times and every time he had found himself guilty of being irrational; he could not find even an iota of justification for his anger.

But now he was determined to change. But he did not know that it was already too late.

He saw her again peeping through the glass, he saw the blood dripping from the deep gash on her forehead; terrified, he could not suppress his blood-curdling scream.     
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A post for Magpie Tales on a photo prompt.

8 comments:

  1. Oh! Sometimes even deep repentance can't heal the wounds made by anger...

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  2. Beautifully powerful writing; very well done.

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  3. Real. And terrifying.
    Well done.

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  4. Nice story. You had kept curiosity alive till the end. Sting was at the tail.

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