This is my entry for Indie Ink Writing Challenge - Week 8
She ran across from her bedroom as the phone ring. She knocked her feet against the doorstop. Only this was the third time. She almost resisted from screaming the curse word. "God, why me?", she muttered.
"How are you baby?", said the voice over the phone. It was her mom.
"Whatever mom! Fine", she huffed
"How was your day darling?", her mom continued.
"Ma...what can be different? Please Ma, what do you want?", she gasped.
"Oh I just hoped I could give you some company. I will call you some other time, you should get some rest", her mom replied.
"OK. Fine. Night!", she dropped her phone and strutted to the couch, her toe was still paining from the third hit at the doorstop.
As she settled in her couch and flipped through the TV, she sighed. "Not even the damn TV can show something interesting", she grunted, still holding her toe by her palm.
Suddenly she felt all lonely. She looked around. The silence was somewhat discomforting. Except for the faint sound of the air conditioner in her bedroom, she could hear nothing. Her eyes fell on the magazine spread across on the coffee table. The magazine cover was partially visible, it looked like two eyes peering out at her. (It was actually a skirt pictured on the cover). It reminded her of the time when she used to make portraits. Dozens of them. Of everyone she saw, remembered or met. She was so good at it. Until she had to leave all that behind to take up a corporate job. She sighed. She hated living with roommates and having to compromise on so many things. She hated being bothered or being instructed. She had imagined life would be "fun" living alone. Without menacing company to bother her. She could get all the time to herself, if she stayed away from people, family, friends, she had thought.
As so many thoughts sped her mind, her eyes got moist. She was strange as a child. While kids would play around and savor delicious food, she would sit in a corner and watch them do, whatever they do. And sketch them and make portraits. Once she had made a portrait of a woman who was "dressed funnily". She had run into her at an old abandoned building, few blocks from her school. She sketched her and talked to her and shook hands with her. She was full of cigarette smell. She smoked a lot and funny hair and lot of makeup.
When she showed the portrait to her dad, he was miffed at her. She didn't understand why. She was sure her sketch was quite like the woman she had met that afternoon. Her mom had later told her that she actually drew the portrait of a whore. And she should never go to that awful building ever.
She smiled as that memory came back. A sudden thought struck her. She slipped into her jeans and stuffed her pockets with dollar bills. She made some purchases at a nearby art store. She climbed down to the basement of her apartment building and fished out her old easel and dusted it. As old memories ravaged her, she sketched and sketched into the dawn. Only taking breaks to make pots of coffee. She sketched till her body ached and her arms screamed of exhaustion. As she used up the final bits of colored pencils, she took stock of the portraits in front of her.
She drew herself, a series of portraits of herself. Some pretty, some happy, some sad, some hopeful and some thoughtful expressions of herself. Funny how she remembers her own face. "I must be looking at the mirror too long!", she thought.
The phone rang, this time it was her boss. The clock showed 6 am. She did not take the call.
"Screw it", she said aloud. She strutted back to her bed and pulled the sheets over her. Smiling and strangely not feeling lonely anymore.
My prompt this time came from Janani - "Loneliness can make people do the strangest things"
Btw, special mention for Janani since I came across Indie Ink Challenge for the first time in one of her blog posts. Her posts are amazingly charming. So do visit her blog =)
My prompt went to Shiv this week - "Why so serious?" Find the reply (a poem!) here
She ran across from her bedroom as the phone ring. She knocked her feet against the doorstop. Only this was the third time. She almost resisted from screaming the curse word. "God, why me?", she muttered.
"How are you baby?", said the voice over the phone. It was her mom.
"Whatever mom! Fine", she huffed
"How was your day darling?", her mom continued.
"Ma...what can be different? Please Ma, what do you want?", she gasped.
"Oh I just hoped I could give you some company. I will call you some other time, you should get some rest", her mom replied.
"OK. Fine. Night!", she dropped her phone and strutted to the couch, her toe was still paining from the third hit at the doorstop.
As she settled in her couch and flipped through the TV, she sighed. "Not even the damn TV can show something interesting", she grunted, still holding her toe by her palm.
Suddenly she felt all lonely. She looked around. The silence was somewhat discomforting. Except for the faint sound of the air conditioner in her bedroom, she could hear nothing. Her eyes fell on the magazine spread across on the coffee table. The magazine cover was partially visible, it looked like two eyes peering out at her. (It was actually a skirt pictured on the cover). It reminded her of the time when she used to make portraits. Dozens of them. Of everyone she saw, remembered or met. She was so good at it. Until she had to leave all that behind to take up a corporate job. She sighed. She hated living with roommates and having to compromise on so many things. She hated being bothered or being instructed. She had imagined life would be "fun" living alone. Without menacing company to bother her. She could get all the time to herself, if she stayed away from people, family, friends, she had thought.
As so many thoughts sped her mind, her eyes got moist. She was strange as a child. While kids would play around and savor delicious food, she would sit in a corner and watch them do, whatever they do. And sketch them and make portraits. Once she had made a portrait of a woman who was "dressed funnily". She had run into her at an old abandoned building, few blocks from her school. She sketched her and talked to her and shook hands with her. She was full of cigarette smell. She smoked a lot and funny hair and lot of makeup.
When she showed the portrait to her dad, he was miffed at her. She didn't understand why. She was sure her sketch was quite like the woman she had met that afternoon. Her mom had later told her that she actually drew the portrait of a whore. And she should never go to that awful building ever.
She smiled as that memory came back. A sudden thought struck her. She slipped into her jeans and stuffed her pockets with dollar bills. She made some purchases at a nearby art store. She climbed down to the basement of her apartment building and fished out her old easel and dusted it. As old memories ravaged her, she sketched and sketched into the dawn. Only taking breaks to make pots of coffee. She sketched till her body ached and her arms screamed of exhaustion. As she used up the final bits of colored pencils, she took stock of the portraits in front of her.
She drew herself, a series of portraits of herself. Some pretty, some happy, some sad, some hopeful and some thoughtful expressions of herself. Funny how she remembers her own face. "I must be looking at the mirror too long!", she thought.
The phone rang, this time it was her boss. The clock showed 6 am. She did not take the call.
"Screw it", she said aloud. She strutted back to her bed and pulled the sheets over her. Smiling and strangely not feeling lonely anymore.
My prompt this time came from Janani - "Loneliness can make people do the strangest things"
Btw, special mention for Janani since I came across Indie Ink Challenge for the first time in one of her blog posts. Her posts are amazingly charming. So do visit her blog =)
My prompt went to Shiv this week - "Why so serious?" Find the reply (a poem!) here
