Him

I watch him touch her arm, a gentle, soft caress. She looks at him with that familiar, tender look in her eyes, the one that was once reserved only for me. I watch the way she brushes his hair out of his eyes, a brush of skin, nothing more. The way he smiles a little at the contact makes my heart twist. Clench. Ready to explode. He leans into her warmth, and she holds him closer, tighter. Their bodies melding into one. Nothing else matters, nothing else exists. Not the people rushing around, smiling at the moment they’re sharing together, the isolated emotion, not the sounds, the smells or anything in between or beyond. Her eyes are fixed on him, shining with unshed tears of pure love and joy. Content. She is content next to him, with him nearby. Her heart is finally at peace after all the pain she went through, with me, to reach this point. He shuffles a bit in her embrace, catching and twisting a lock of her ebony hair. I watch as a soft laugh escapes her beautiful lips, the way her hand comes up to hold his wrist and I feel another tug at my heart. Somebody brushes past me, causing me to take a step forward, towards her; them. She looks away from the boy. She was always so beautiful, her features so serene, even without the shadows and liners she insisted on putting on. Her face was bare, today. But she didn’t need anything. We lock eyes. Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink, her coffee coloured eyes bright and round in surprise. Every emotion I feel is mirrored on her face, words need not be spoken. I stare at her, shamelessly. He shifted again, calling her attention back to him, she looked away from me hastily. He wrapped himself around her, content with finally having gained her attention and I saw another soft smile erupt on her face. Another tug. And then, she looked at me, beckoning me forward, into their private little moment. I stared at him, stunned. He was so at peace with her, as I always was, and I wanted nothing more to leave, but I wasn’t sure if I should. She studied my perplexed state, beckoning me forward once more. Someone brushed past me once again, snapping me out of my reverie, and I walked slowly towards them. He turned to me, sensing my presence. A set of familiar eyes looked back at me. I sucked in a breath. We stared at each other for a moment, unmoving, unblinking. The tugging now stronger than ever. The link between us smiled and shifted.

And then,

I held my son for the first time.

–

It’s my first time writing anything like this, and I really hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you would like to see me write anything similar to this in any way again, or have any feedback or comments at all, please do feel free to let me know. Thankyou for reading!

Editing Credits: Akash Ricky Chakraborty 

Check out his blog, he’s amazing. 

https://rickywastaken.wordpress.com/

The Static Speak My Name

RICKY WAS TAKEN

A distinct ping sings into your ears, and the presumption of its eventuality is overshadowed by the dire need of it. You look down to your rectangle, and feel the vibrations of a sense of urgency that exists only in imagined spaces of binary. Your mind created worlds between the infinite series of digits, and your heart latched onto them in a manner that only the derangement of longing can make it do so. You seek to create an illusion, if only to solidify another. Like a compulsive gambler, yet again in need of his ‘estranged’ brother.

You stare unblinking, watching the words rush by, their manner quite like that of binaural beats. A third, imagined beat to the ear that completes the rumble. Without it, it’s merely a thump and bumble. And you don’t want that. Of course you don’t. So you choose to perceive the bridge of fantasy…

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