My Visitor

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


After bearing the life-consuming pain, She wakes up to see the Beauty...

Submitted: July 05, 2018

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Submitted: July 05, 2018

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My Visitor

I scream in complete pain and agony, white-gloved hands swarm in front of me and a reassuring smile from the man beside me was all I need. Excruciating pain and the toxicated air suffocates me once more. I blank out.

My eyes open and blink to get adjusted tot eh iridescent room lighting. I almost ask the white-headed men where I was but then memory floods back into my brain in fluid strokes. I jerk up but a man pushes me back down, this time in a comfortable sitting position, nods slowly and points to a mauve cradle beside me. The moment has come! My heart flutters and butterflies fly in my stomach in response to the strong adrenaline rush. I slowly creep to the corner of my bed, grab hold of the sides of the cradle for mortal support and carefully peep in; holding my breath. I gasp, look inside and gasp again. There she lies, my beautiful visitor, the one I opened the doors of this world for. She is a masterpiece to all art sculptures; so tiny yet so perfect. They say “Beauty is only skin deep” but the marvel in front of me proved it wrong as she turned and scrunched her eyes; every moment fabricating and engraving happiness in my heart. She is a plump, rosy baby; blood swirled in puddles in both her cheeks. Her hair is a shade of frosty blue, just like the ocean, in a flock of bouncy curls right below her lilliputian ears and her nose is no more than a tiny button. Hypnotised and enthralled by her magical beauty, I touch her tiny wrists and at once those fragile fingers clamp around mine I let out a sigh of jubilance as she holds onto me; her blushed skin feels so soft and vulnerable under my dry touch, almost like water on a parched land. Suddenly, her lips quiver and for a second, I panic thinking of the worst but then I hear the voice escape her crimson lips as she murmurs something incomprehensible. Then in a deliberate, slow movement she opens her scrunched eyes and what I see is indescribably enchanting.

They are green and yellow at the same time, with a little turquoise creeping around the edges as if they’re trying to take over She blinks and her beauty momentarily shielded by the long, silky eyelashes. She now stares at me; a stare that communicates her inconsiderable amount of love for me. I step back in awe, removing my touch from hers and she cries.

It is a voice I’ve never heard in my life before. It’s like ice crystals tinkling against each other producing a clear, brittle sound across the room. I look at the doc, asking for his permission but all he does is give a soft nod. Overcome by utter joy, I carry in my arms, my own personal angel in disguise and like a miracle she stops crying but goes into another trance of magical sleep. I feel contended, happier than any other woman on earth and just gazing at her sends shivers of delight along my spine. I hug her tight; sharing my heat with her frail body and with the help of the doctors, sit back comfortably on my bed again. I slowly, softly hum a tune; a tune my own mother used to sing for me when I was just a babe; and pull my baby closer to me, getting a swift waft of her pure and reassuring smell. This is the first time I ever feel love for someone and so I take the chance and love her now more than ever.

--- Safaa Kurshid.


© Copyright 2018 safaak. All rights reserved.

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