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White Cloud

Short story By: Gagan
Other


A special thanks to Rachel and Georgie Patton, for reviewing and editing my work and making it flow the way it is right now.

Thank you once again for the time you have put in my work and making me fall in love with it, all over again. :))


Submitted:Jun 14, 2011    Reads: 255    Comments: 81    Likes: 18   


WHITE Cloud...

And the song begins.

"With Eyes open I walk in a Dream…Enchanted with visions of realities which are not yet seen… Wondering where I am going or what is waiting ahead..

Walking and walking on my way as Mouth Organ continues to play… "

Now the story of AK…

When temptation takes over, Virtues fall prey to the passions of the movement. The whole scenario of life revolves around that moment when obsession to a particular thought weighs over the reality of time.

On one such day, tormented by an unsatisfied obsession AK was maniacally searching through in his rented apartment. A foreigner in the land of 'Queen', he was tirelessly racking up the stuff, moving furniture around, checking beneath his beddings, racing up and down the stairs, searching from one room to another. His desperate search, his gestures, his movements, and his frequent grunts were the outward signs of his disgust. An urgent cry from his obsessed brain ruthlessly lorded over his senses.

From the maddening chaos, he felts a sudden burst of excitement as a desperate thought from past stuck his mind. He hurriedly ran out of his kitchen door to the backyard and ambitiously searched the bin. After few anxious second he triumphantly retrieved a matchbox.

So that was it, a common matchbox; this was what the urge was about. All this rush was for a noble cause of smoking a cancer. AK solemnly removed a cigarette from his pocket and returned to his apartment. Aristocratically, he placed the blessed torch-of-freedom to his lips and opened the matchbox. Only one stick in the box remained. With pious devotion he braces it with the box.

Darn.

Nothing. He tried again. And then again. Failure. The harsh but deserved sentence was declared and meted out; the soulless box of no-joy was crushed within the angry palms. Determined in his resolve, he immediately departed down the road, clad only in his shorts and t-shirt to face the chilly English afternoon. The shopping store, only two miles away, would resolve his commanding obsession. To make the journey shorter; he decided to cross through a little forest area, which was perfectly safe for humans.

As he crossed the woods, he saw some stones scattered about the ground. His mind immidiately flashed an idea. He vigorously rubbed the stones against each other. A spark which ignited the birth of whole civilization defied his valiant efforts. Angry at the outcome, he threw the stones into the sky, aiming for someone's head in heaven.

Leaving the failure behind, he continued across the woods. Although the sun was able to break through the shackles of clouds, it was still dark. He paced up his walk.

In an instant he stopped, smiled, turned, and took two steps back. There, he picked up a piece of magnifying glass. As he learned in school: Sun's rays + Glass = produces Fire.

Applause! Applause! Applause!

This moment of intelligence brought a fresh breeze of enthusiasm to a cold and dull land. Instinctively he picked up that piece-of-hope and scurried toward the open highway bridge where he felt certain of finding the maximum effect of grey rays. He systematically placed the stick underneath the glass and prayed for miracle. But it didn't happen. Each failing moment was confirming the falsity of science and physics. The unfocused rays only managed to burn the hope inside his heart as the stick stubbornly remained intact. Aghast at the outcome but not relieved of his obsession, he threw the mirror up into gray sky aiming for someone's head in heaven.

He turned to resume his purposeful travel through the woods when he was startled by the sound of a crash. He ran back up the bridge embankment and saw the spilled motorcycle and rider on the other side of the bridge approach. His rush was stopped when AK observed the gushing blood from the mouth and ears of the motionless rider. Life was slowly leaving the body in leathers and collecting in growing pools of dark red. AK searched his brain, demanding to know the next reasonable course of action for someone obviously dying. Nothing. He squeezed his brain again but the result was the same. The man moved to curl up in a fetal position. AK shouted at him but there was not even a flicker of response. What should he do? What was he doing there?

AK's brain answered with another brilliant flash. He searched the man for a cigarette lighter. He rolled the unconscious man about to check all pockets but the prized object was not to be found. His brain alerted him that he was not finished. There was another option. AK touched his cigarette to the hot silencer but the cigarette just defied him. It was not hot enough. AK remained keenly aware that since morning his nostrils were smoke free and that disgusted him to core.

There remained only one thing to do. Another burst of energy, coupled with the energy of desperation, propelled AK through the woods to the shopping store. He feared his lungs would burst. He feared the stitches in his sides would double him over and curtail his travel. AK pushed on, an obsessed madman. Seeing the store in view propelled him to feel as if his body leapt to the front door.

Damn! It was closed and locked. His body bent over gasping for breath and to relieve the stomach stitching pains. His head was heating up and whirling brain declared his options over. He kicked the steel bar on the door and tapped on the glass in case someone was still inside. No response. What the F***!

The chemicals, endorphins, and neurons in his brain painted a surreal world. This can't be possible. He had tried stones, glass, robbing a dying man, and now this closed store. His magnificent brain had failed. What did God have against him, asked AK?

He straightened up and caught his breath. AK looked about and, defeated, turned to return home on the road. He was out of options and hopeless. As he walked in the chilling wind he saw cars occasionally enter the parking lot of a church with a tall white steeple. A service must be forming. The steeple bell chimed as if to say, "Welcome All. Welcome All." His mind conjured up remembrances from his youth of family, over dressing, sermons, singing, pictures of Jesus, candles, communion, confession booths…

Wait! his brain screamed, Candles!

"With eyes open I walk in a dream. Enchanted with visions of realities which are not yet seen. Wondering where I am going or what is waiting ahead."

Walking and walking on my way as Mouth Organ continues to play..."

Songs end with the White cloud.

..





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