Through My Eyes

The air smelt of forbode.

An eerie silence had erected upon the building. Dark, dense clouds, closed in above me. There was a hint of thunder some distance away.

The scene had been set.

I realised how my breathing had gone deeper. Gaspier. My heart throbbed. I could feel the pulsation in my forehead. Every contraction, every expansion, shot pangs across it.

I steadied my draw, as I took a moment to catch my breath.

A cloud tipped. The first drop collapsed against my cheek, and gradually sailed down.

I moved. Struggling with the keys for a fraction of a second, I unfastened the lock on the door, and in an instant heave, opened it upon its screeching hinges.

The lights were off. One of the windows, at the far end of the corridor, had been left open. An alien draught caught hold of the curtain and drove it across. Back and forth, flapped the curtain. Back and forth.

Apart from that, nothing had seemed to have stirred. Nothing had been touched; not even treaded over.

My mind raced with thoughts. Countless of them. Pictures. Blurry, fast-paced pictures flashed across, as my entire body attempted a decipher of the happenings that had unfolded under this roof in my absence.

I carefully searched around the room. Looking for something. Anything. But, just a mere gaze. I didn't touch anything. I do not know why.

Then there it was.

Very faint, almost next to non-existent. But I had definitely heard it. Immediately, I carried myself to the stairs. My shoes carried off an echo, I wish they wouldn't have. For, it penetrated through the quietness, icily. As if mocking me.

As my head rose from above the staircase, my gaze fell, almost instantly, upon them. It landed ever so sharply, as if it had been searching for them this whole time. Silently. Warily. Searching for them; and now it had found them - staring back.

Silence persisted.

The eyes. They said it all. If only one could hear it. They narrated a saga. A saga from the eyes of the six-year-old. They spoke with conviction. They spoke with honesty...and innocence, of course.

They spoke with a pain. A pain that was clearly etched across those eyes. You couldn't miss it, even if you wished to.

My heart eased itself. The throbbing disappeared into the unconscious. All my mind could read now, was the child's face. A child, who I hadn't known quite well. Who I didn't want to know quite well.

His soft sobs, on the other hand, searched my face, in return. Searched me for a sign.

For comfort.

I lowered myself. Eyes fixed. And gestured.

The kid ran. Into my arms. Crying? Wailing? Moaning?

I couldn't tell.


  1. for realz? or you just felt like writing a fictional one-shot?

  2. I share a roof with the kid who inpsired this 6-yr-old. And I practically HATE him!

    But, other than that, it's all fiction. Been a while since I wrote something like it. :)

  3. (Pertaining to the above)
    When you say 'kid' do you literally mean kid?
    Haha! When you said '6-year old' it reminded me of Murad...who used to live with Rija for a while.

    Apart from that, intriguing.

    (P.S: I'm anxiously waiting for your to-be-posted-on-Thursday blog post. No wonder I stumbled across this.)