VIOLET

With an exasperated string of words, Nolan jumped to his feet and stormed towards the front door. The ringing was persistent and looked like whoever it was outside wouldn't let him have a Sunday morning slide in peace.

He had returned here after a year and the house was kept in pristine condition by the cleaners who would come in at regular intervals. Who could be visiting him at his farmhouse when he had told no one about his month long retreat? His getaway from a stress-filled city life and a job that sucked the life out of him was a plan he confided in no one.

Upon opening the door in one swift swing, he found a package wrapped in a simple brown paper lying outside with his address and a ‘Welcome Home’ card pasted on it. He carried it inside and wondered what could be inside and who would send him a homecoming gift.

The contents revealed an easel, a canvas, a branded box of paints, palettes and paintbrushes of every type and size. Nolan's eyes shone with delight at this sweet surprise and longed to know who would send him quality products of his favourite hobby which he no longer pursued.

Maybe this retreat was a sign to really live up to his hiatus and go back to one's roots, to rediscover oneself. He was beside himself with joy and regretted fuming intensely a few minutes earlier. He spread out all the paraphernalia on a worktable and set the canvas up on the easel. A soft breeze ruffled the sheer curtains and a faint whiff of violets floated in.

Nolan was too engrossed to take notice of his surroundings when a scrap of paper fluttered and slid to the floor. As he bent down to pick it up, he glanced at the single handwritten line which read—”To hold you forever in my gaze. The first reference picture is on the house. Enjoy painting.”

The cryptic message made no sense to him and he laughed it off as an advertisement gimmick. The brochure had a single sheet of the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. As blue as violets.

He set about blending in the right amount of tints to get an exact replica of this endearing shade when something stirred in his memory. His quickly dismissed the thought and swirled the colors around.

The soft breeze rustled a bit strongly and the curtains billowed, knocking down a vase. It shattered into smithereens, but the crash seemed to fall on deaf ears.

The canvas saw long lashes sweeping a pair eyes set in a heart shaped face, a vulnerable smile and raven black locks. Nolan was perspiring profusely and his heart raced even as his hands seemed to move on their own accord. Panicking, he tried to will his mind to stop but an unseen energy had taken over his movements.

He clutched the canvas with his left hand and gasped for breath, beads of sweat trickling down his temples. But his right hand was dipping a paintbrush in the violet smudge on the palette and was gliding across the canvas to color the eyes. His lips twitched and tried to protest but no sound emanated out of them. The wind was now blustery, dancing with a wail which terrified him

Something wasn't right!

The face was all coloured in by now and a faint recognition set in.

Violet.. accidental death…food allergy…

Except that it wasn't…Nolan had sprinkled nut powder into her salad bowl and had watched impassively as her life had painfully ebbed away. She was going to expose his embezzlement of company funds which he had so cleverly engineered. His assets, cars, this farmhouse was at stake if his name had gotten out.

But what was happening at this moment! Is this some witchcraft? Someone playing mind games?

He seemed to be paralyzed except for his right hand which was moving at an unusually rapid pace. The brush clattered to the floor and rolled under a couch.

”Look into my eyes”, the breeze whispered.

And Nolan stood rooted to the spot, mesmerized, looking at a masterpiece on the canvas, a prisoner in the stony violet gaze.

©️ Sangeetha Kamath

Pic Courtesy: Asian Literary Society

Comments

ANAM CARA

The waves are soft and frothy. Laced with gossamer frills tenderly kissing the tips of my toes covered with the grainy sand of the rugged seashore where I'm sitting, wistful. A gust of briny breeze tousles my hair as I gaze as far as my eyes can see. A flock of terns wheel overhead, their sharp, shrill cries punctuating the air as they dive and swoop over the surfs. A lone frigate bird , its crimson belly dazzling like a jewel skims majestically above, its long, slender wings outstretched as it rides the thermals high above the ocean. I absorb the sights and sounds of the late afternoon while absentmindedly scooping seashells beside me. As the afternoon phases, the furthest rim of the ocean is fringed in a gilded hem and the sleepy sun yawns, its dipping glow streaking the sky in a mellow tangerine and warm cherry. As I continue sitting there, the ships and yachts appear --specks of light from the portholes glimmering in the distance, reminding me of the phrase “That ship has sai...

ARIEL AND BLUE-BLOOD SHOES

The waves crashed violently against the craggy mountainside and the moonlight shone on the lacy froths. As I waded through the water and stepped on the wet sand, I remembered another night which was many moons ago. The same glinting lights through the palace doorways and windows, the fireworks adorning the night sky like shooting stars and meteors. A royal celebration with all the works and the guests dressed up in their best finery and aristocratic jewelry. Of noble births they all were. Blue blooded as the matriarch had pointedly told me once. That unholy night! That night of icy hearts and howling laughter, the echoes of cackling that followed me till I ran on wobbly legs to find my place of comfort where the land met water… Hot tears streaming down, I regretted those days when I lost my heart to a man so spineless. Had I not dragged him to the shore, he would have been a mangled mass after being torn apart by the piranhas and other monstrous maws. How I regret…Oh!...

HILANG

Chapter 2 Muay, the Maddening Scamp Seasons had gone by with vibrant autumns and chilling winters. Muay Thai had now become very outgoing and social. On a full moon night, this newly transformed scamp had bounded away on some nocturnal adventure. I waited for her return for almost a week. As I searched high and low for Muay Thai, my heart raced with panic with every passing moment. On one of my search treks, I spotted something that made my blood run cold. Lying on the ground, partially hidden by the underbrush on the curbside, was Muay Thai's collar. The vibrant fuchsia leather was faded and dirty, but the delicate zircon pendant still sparkled in the sunlight and that had caught my attention. Holding it gently in my hands, I examined it for any sign of what might have happened to Muay Thai. But there was nothing - no blood, dried or otherwise. Maybe, just maybe, Muay Thai was still out there, wait...

GATOS MEUS QUERIDOS

Chapter 1 Muay The Warrior Cat Muay Thai came to be called so for the feisty and spirited little thing she was, reminiscent of the intense and energetic martial art of Muay Thai . Her bold personality inspired me to give her a name that reflected her sass and vigor. Muay Thai's antics were the stuff of legends. She was a buzz of energy, always getting into mischief and mayhem. Whether she was chasing invisible bugs, leaping over furniture like an acrobat or wrestling with toys, Muay Thai was a force to be reckoned with. Her favorite pastime was "attacking" my hands and feet, using her lightning-fast reflexes and razor-sharp teeth. It was a game she loved, and one that always left me in stitches. Despite her tough-as-nails persona, Muay Thai was also a total softie at heart. She loved nothing more than curling up in my lap and purring contentedly, her eyes gleaming with adoration before snoozing into the deepest of sl...

EILÍFUR GJÖF (ETERNAL GIFT)

It was pre-dawn and still dark. The shrill alarm jolted me from the depths of a death-like sleep even as I tried to cling on to the fading vestiges of a sweet dream. I was just within reach of seeing its mysterious ending but it was gone. Like a wisp of smoke! I tried to slowly blink away the remnants of sleep from my eyes---heavily lidded and which just refused to open even a crack at a grim time like this. The alarm was ringing incessantly. Could it be a mistake that I set it to go off so early? At this bleak hour?! Uh! Hold on, it wasn’t the alarm but a phone call for crying out loud!” At this unearthly time, when most of this side of the world was asleep, I dearly hoped that it would be from one of the two sources--Either from ** Piny Woods Primary School or ** Woody Pines Primary School . Yes, Thank God! I was right! I recognised ** Carrie’s number of **Piny Woods Primary School. Phone calls during pitch-black hours did tend to give me the chills, driving me to think ...

Sangeetha Kamath

Search This Blog