The One of the Flames

Because my friend demanded a happy ending and this is how happy I could get:

#The Flamed.

You begin one which is all love and flames,
A cheery story to warm hearts as tales,
This tale about the girl who walked through flames,
She came out alive, lived to tell the tale.

So sad for her, one day she was waylaid,
A group of men hornier than dogs in heat,
Tore her up, tore her up like meat,
Bleeding, bruised and scarred, they left her to die

But she was one who had walked the flames,
She couldn't just lie down, give up the game.

So began the true story of the flames,
It was one of a girl who'd been thrown out in shame,
She had sold her body, all for love,
Came back with a child, they say, cursed from above.

They told her she should walk through fire,
Because the child was to blame,
For how could she of the skin fair,
Come back with a child, black as hell?

She cried and told her story
But no one would dare to hear,
For how dare they hear with the child from hell
Hanging on to his mother dear?

The child was dark, black as night,
With hair as red as blood,
His fingernails were yellow and teeth were edged
Like nail points to bite and kill.

The fear of him grew stronger and stronger,
The child avoided the sun,
Well-wishers in disguise, they thought up a plan,
Let her walk the flames of truth and tell

Her story to all, man and woman alike,
Children even if they wish,
But only if she survives may she stay,
The child shall go with her.

Plan set into motion, the girl had no choice,
When path was set on fire,
She hugged her son tight,
Whispered three words and then gathered him close,

She walked through the path, her eyes closed,
Her mouth reciting stories from old,
Of a beautiful man who waylaid her with love,
While she was on fire and walking through earthly hell.

The beautiful man turned out to be a demon,
And maybe her child is demon spawn,
But abandon him, she will not,
And out she walked, unscathed.

But alas, for her, for everyone,
The child had disappeared.

She screamed all night through,
Tore out her hair,
Ripped off her clothes,
All in pure despair,

When she got up on her feet,
She walked away,
Searching for her child and
The man who had led her astray.

That was when the men waylaid her,
Ripped her up and bruised her,
But she was still burning, nursing her wounds,
Her small body threw out flames and they died.

Where is the love and cheer you ask?
Well dear lady, that was only a false mask.
Courage arises out of fear and hatred,
We admire what we ourselves dare not test.

So this is the story of the girl,
She walked the flames and survived,
She found her child, she made a life,
All on her own, she was a soul that lived right.

- People lie, cheat, deceive, molest...but in the end, how you hold up is what matters, isn't it? Not what they did or will do. But how you face up to the ones who wish to see your will broken and eyes defeated. How you say that one word, NO.

Flashback_3

“Joseph called. I need to go“, he bent and kissed her forehead while buttoning up his shirt. She woke up drowsily, clutching the blanket to her chest. She glanced across at their table top Disney clock. 5.12am. “At this time in the morning?“, she enquired, her eyes heavy with sleep. “Yeah. Actually the bartender called me. He got flat out drunk“, he sighed. She sat up and brushed her fingers across his face,“Bring him back here. He can sleep in the spare room. He really isn‘t taking the divorce well.“
“Well that bitch cheated him and then ran off with the next unsuspecting loser. He should have known better than to get married in less than 2months of knowing each other...“
“True but still. These things happen“, she brushed her lips across his and patted the side of his face.
“Well I‘ll be off then.“
“I‘ll make coffee and wait for you two.“
“I‘ll be back soon. Love you.“
“Love you too. Hurry back.“ He left and she slowly eased out of bed. Shuffling over to the bathroom, she washed her face, brushed her teeth and got dressed. A black sleeveless top and faded blue jeans. She made her way to the tiny kitchen and started brewing coffee. Just then her cellphone began chiming “Dernière Danse“ by Indila. She had just changed the ringtone last night after falling in love with the lyrics. It was him, “Honey, I‘m coming home.“
“So you found him?“
“Yup. I can smell your coffee already.“
“It‘s waiting for you.“
“Baby?“
“Yeah?“
“I love you.“
“I miss you. Come.“
“Coming.“
Humming the lyrics, she set the steaming pot of coffee on the table and poured herself a cup. Then her phone started ringing again. It was 5.41am and an unknown number. Wondering who it could be, she answered the call. “Hello?“
“Is this 917685768433?“
“Yes, who is this?“
“This is the bartender of Dougie‘s.Your boyfriend came down here to get his friend?“
“Yes...?“, her breaths came quicker as she started to slowly panic. “Yes he went there. What happened?! Why are you calling??“
“Look, the police and ambulance are here. Your drunk friend tried to take control of the car and ended up smashing them into a tree. Your friend is breathing... He didn‘t get hurt too bad... The driver‘s side was the one that hit the tree... I‘m afraid he... He didn‘t make it. I‘m so sorry lady. He was a nice man. Hello? Hello??“ She hung up the phone. It couldn‘t be true. It just couldn‘t be.

He‘s never coming back. Though he said he would. Guess Fate had a different idea in mind. How fast everything went by. All so quick. Too quick. Now nothing is there as a keepsake. Nothing could truly be called theirs. They had never married. They never wanted to risk things by rushing it. And now... Now all those beautiful memories... The good and bad and everything in between. The last dance was over before it even started. All that was left for her now were these flashbacks. Nothing more.

The End

Flashback_2

The remembrance was what hurt. The gentleness, the care. The careless thought that time would give you a forever. But time gave her ‘happy‘. Which is a lot more than what most people could say. Especially those who are toeing the edge of a clinical depression. A chronic depression.
The remembrance was what hurt. Along with the words, he‘s never coming back. That word there, “never“. It used to make her happy.
But now it just made her unexplicably sad. Not upset, not hysterical.

Just sad.

“Hey, you better?“, he asked caressing her tummy. “Yes“, she mumbled. His carelessly dropped kiss made her shiver. Made her yearn for more. Much more. She reached out a hand and cupped his face. He closed the distance between them with a smile and kissed her. He liked it, leading in the bedroom, but small moments like this when she made the first move, he enjoyed those. He never spoke it loud but she knew. She didn‘t need to hear the words. His arms were exploring the familiar areas under him. Marriage was a question that hadn‘t even come up in these long five years. They didn‘t care for it. He whispered into her ear, “I love you“. Her reply was a nip on his bare, muscled shoulder and a playful grin, “I know“. His indulgent smile made her pull him close for another kiss, deeper and longer. Then he fell to her side and hugged her tight. Oft repeated words whose feelings had only increased with time, “I won‘t let you go, you know“. “But I don‘t want you to. Ever“, she snuggled deeper against the solid planes of his chest revelling in the feeling of her softness pushing, melding against a hard wall. Her dependable, much loved wall and tower of strength and protection. And of course, a lot of happiness. He murmered into her hair, “Never“, and closed his eyes. Her pain was subsiding. They couldn‘t get adventurous this close to the danger period but these shared moments satisfied them both. The nearness, the togetherness. Everyone wondered why they didn‘t get married. It wasn‘t as though they weren‘t already living together. But they didn‘t care what people thought. This was their happy time. Their love, their romance. Each one has their own story just as they have theirs. Each one has their own reasons just as they have theirs. And marriage was an idea that was taboo, never discussed. Their relationship was an open secret... known to everyone but family. For reasons that were theirs too. “I love you so much...“, she sighed and drifted off to sleep, content in her lover‘s arms. Nothing else mattered then except them and their bubble of joy. Nothing.

Flashback_1

One late night phone call. Images of her lover filled her mind. She wouldn‘t hear that voice again. The husky male voice which she was so familiar with. She wouldn‘t see those eyes again. Those brown eyes flecked with gold whose every look she knew. She wouldn‘t feel those arms again. Strong, rough yet gentle which knew to play her body like a masterpiece. She wouldn‘t be able to rest her head against that lithe muscular chest. All those little pleasures, those little details like the small scars on his face, the few callouses on his hands, the texture of his skin, the smell of him... The details which were taken as granted, which were taken as a sign of him, which made the big picture, which now felt like everything. All lost in the blink of an eye. He had said, “Honey, I‘m coming home.“

He had promised he‘d come home.

They were lying on the bed together when the pain started. The usual abdominal cramps that most women experience and detest. “Is there any ibuprofen left? Or atleast paracetamol? I can‘t take this. It hurts too bad“, she cringed as more cramps took over. He rolled over in bed and started stroking her tummy. Deftly, he moved his hand under her tshirt in one quick move and continued stroking. “It‘s not good to take medicines all the time. Is there anything else I can get you? Here, do you feel any better?“, he enquired. “Hot.... Water“, she bit out the two words tersely. Teeth clenched in pain and rolled on her side, she hugged herself tight. Her lover‘s hand continued weaving its magic infinitesimally slowly yet surely. He knew to wait out the worst first. Years of experience had taught him that. “Are you sure it will help?“, he kept massaging the soft skin of her tummy. “Yesss“, she hissed between her teeth and curled up into herself even more. He got up from their spoon position and fetched the thermoflask. Pouring some water into a cup, he offered it to her. Then seeing her condition, he set the cup and flask on the table and helped her sit up. “Here take this. If it still doesn‘t improve, I‘ll get you the ibuprofen ok?“, he murmered soothingly into her ear. “Ok“, she relaxed a bit against him, clutching her half finished cup of hot water. An old movie played on the LCD TV that hung neatly on their bedroom wall. No one switched it off.