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Art Directory India

SHORT STORY – Devil Hour or Not?

SHORT STORY – Devil Hour or Not?

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I saw him again yesterday at three in the morning. His chestnut brown eyes staring longingly at me from the half-open windowpane! There was something about the essence of his smile that assured me that it was him. I could hear him breathe heavily as he jumped down on the stone floor.
The room felt colder and I could hear cats growling, maybe, at a distance. He made no noise as he approached me, warmth melting from his eyes as he stroked the back of his fingers on my left cheek. My heart skipped a beat or two and I froze.

Memories of those carefree winter mornings came rushing back. It used to be his everyday habit to touch his cold fingers on my skin and then laugh at my disgust. Back then, that was a normal funny thing for him to do. After all, he was my best friend, someone I’d known forever.

The room felt colder and I could hear cats growling, maybe, at a distance. He made no noise as he approached me, warmth melting from his eyes as he stroked the back of his fingers on my left cheek. My heart skipped a beat or two and I froze.

Memories of those carefree winter mornings came rushing back. It used to be his everyday habit to touch his cold fingers on my skin and then laugh at my disgust. Back then, that was a normal funny thing for him to do. After all, he was my best friend, someone I’d known forever. I could feel my eyes close, consciousness fading away.

We used to be like Juno’s swans for as long as he had life under his skin. But now, it’s different. It has been different for the last couple of years. No, I didn’t see his lifeless body turning to ashes. But I remember the day when everything went quiet after long nights of howling and mourning over his death.

It’s been six years now since that day. And just like seasons, lives have changed. The pain has subsided and the howling has stopped. But what can fill up the void a person’s death creates? Maybe I’ve been having weak moments lately, moments when I’m too stressed about college or crying over a boy who broke my heart.

Maybe it’s in those seconds when my subconscious gives up; when I start feeling what I long to feel; the longing for those winter mornings to come back when my best friend was alive and well. So what was last night about? Was I just being weak? Was it just my mind making up scenarios or was it him hoping to escape oblivion’s curse? What if it was really him trying to tell me he’s still there.

You know what?

I believe, he’s still there.

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