Monday, March 31, 2008

All the difference

Thick velvet curtains barricaded even the shadow of a breeze from entering the room. Darkness was defied by the singular lamp, which cast oscillating shadows on the opposite wall of the rocking chair and its lone occupant.

He sat there, rocking to and fro, watching silence descend into the cracks of the worn out walls. The chair grated with a steady rhythm against the floor. The floor an unwilling participant of a sexual intercourse, groaning against the gyrating intrusion of the solid wood of the chair.

Yes, it was a disgusting thought which lingered in his filthy mind. But it smelled way cleaner than the other thoughts which otherwise occupied the gray crevices. He looked at the ageing walls and wondered how many stories would they tell, only if they could.

Was his ‘problem’ genetic? Had perhaps, some forlorn ancestor who felt as wretched as he did now, beaten a confession out of himself, with only the walls a testimony to the dirty dredges of his mind.

He was a good man. He kept telling himself that. He was good man, who sat in the middle of the night, in an isolated room, rocking in an ancient chair, with a revolver in his hand, loaded with just one bullet. He was a good man, who was driven to hard choices, thanks to the Hyde which controlled his mind. But beneath all that filth, he was a good man. Honest and loving.

Loving, the word ricocheted against the walls of his mind and heart and landed with a plush in a pool of red. The splash of crimson startled him and then he knew no more as he got enveloped in nothingness.

The shot though muffled, traveled upstairs to the ears of his half-asleep twelve year old daughter. She scampered out of bed and climbed down the stairs.

“Daddy?” she called out in apprehension as she followed the path she had seen him take a couple of hours ago. When she was treated with only silence, she slowed her pace, dragging one foot after the other. When she reached his door, she knocked on it.

“Daddy?” she called out again. She turned the handle on the door. Then she screamed. Screamed like she would never stop screaming. Sprawled on the floor was the lifeless body of her father. On the desk beside the lamp, lay on sheet of paper on which was scrawled with an unsteady hand, many times over a single line, “I don’t want to be a pedophile”

The chair continued its obtrusive rocking to and fro


marvin the paranoid android said...

good that he did what he did... if he was beyond the point of no return...

marvin the paranoid android said...

sanity reigned somewhere in the universe...

Roshni said...

Naturally and generally we have a feeling of extreme repugnance towards such people ...but what we fail to see is..the struggle the person goes thru ...the constant battle with himself and his ailing mind !

Beauty and the BEast said...


I know often taking one's life is looked upon as an act of cowardice, but it takes a lot of courage to admit that you are mentally sick and do something about it.

Unfortunaltely, sometimes it does call for extreme action..

What I think I am saying through the entire saga is that I agree with you

Beauty and the BEast said...

@ roshni

Heya!! You made it!!

Unfortunately yes, since the inner stuggle does stay invisible, we base our opinion on what meets the eye

me in love said...

i would rather not join the discussion of how much "struggle" such men go through ...

but i kied your story, though only in the begining..late on, sorry to became forced.

Beauty and the BEast said...

@me in love

what would I do without you?

criticism always welcome :)

And perhaps I did hurry towards the end.. its the curse of impatience...

Let me try on working on it!

me in love said...

cha.. hugs! btw, i just noticed my typo, so let me rectify it:
"but i liked your story, though only in the begining.."


Ricky said...

Very haunting story. The story captured my attention like anything.

Beauty and the BEast said...

@me in love


thnks again :)

Beauty and the BEast said...


sorry didnt mean to scare :(