Like every morning else, the day Etenielle turned nineteen, she could vividly recall her dream from last night. It was no longer a task. For it was the same dream she had had since the day she'd started dreaming. Which was back when she was...she couldn't even remember now. Night in and night out, however, the same sequence of events played in her slumbered brain, without so much as a change in colour, shape, form, length or size.
She would be sitting in the park opposite the great lake, reading Maugham, till the fading lights of twilight would force her to put it down. She would look up, only to see him advancing on a bicycle. He would stop by her, smile and say, 'Happy Birthday!' and hand her a scroll. She would unfold it, read it and sign it with a pen, dipping it every now and then in the bottle of ink he would hold out for her. Once done, he would take it back from her and announce with some flourish: 'Beginning today thus, you and I are bound for life. It is my duty and responsibility from this day onwards to know and fulfill every dream you have while in sleep. Here is my key to your mind', he would pause to produce a tiny silver key and resume, 'that will help me unlock your mind and take a look at the most minute details of your dreams, in order to be able to make them come true. I shall never fail in my task for as long as either or both of us are alive. For if I do, even once, I shall lose you forever. So, my love, what dream are we to begin with...?'
And at this very point, unfailingly, for the nineteen years, she would have woken up.
She would be sitting in the park opposite the great lake, reading Maugham, till the fading lights of twilight would force her to put it down. She would look up, only to see him advancing on a bicycle. He would stop by her, smile and say, 'Happy Birthday!' and hand her a scroll. She would unfold it, read it and sign it with a pen, dipping it every now and then in the bottle of ink he would hold out for her. Once done, he would take it back from her and announce with some flourish: 'Beginning today thus, you and I are bound for life. It is my duty and responsibility from this day onwards to know and fulfill every dream you have while in sleep. Here is my key to your mind', he would pause to produce a tiny silver key and resume, 'that will help me unlock your mind and take a look at the most minute details of your dreams, in order to be able to make them come true. I shall never fail in my task for as long as either or both of us are alive. For if I do, even once, I shall lose you forever. So, my love, what dream are we to begin with...?'
And at this very point, unfailingly, for the nineteen years, she would have woken up.
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"...I see you as the eternal pilgrim to some shrine that perhaps does not exist. I do not know to what inscrutable Nirvana you aim. Do you know yourself? Perhaps it is Truth and Freedom that you seek, and for a moment you thought that you might find release in Love. I think your tired soul sought rest in a woman’s arms, and when you found no rest there you hated her..." And at this point of The Moon and Sixpence, she found the lights of November twilight fading, making it difficult for her to keep reading. She shut the book, looked up around her and felt strangely contended at having completed nineteen whole years of her life today. As she pulled the shrug around her shoulders to keep away the chill, she wondered at what point of her fingers could nineteen be marked. 1, 2, 3,4,5...10...she changed hands...11, 12, 13...18, 19, 20. The second mark on her left thumb would be nineteen, and the tip of it, twenty. What after that, she mused: how would she keep counting as she grew older still?
Still deep in thought, she looked up and could vaguely make out the silhouette of a young man walking his cycle towards her. As he reached her bench, he stopped, smiled, wished her a Happy Birthday and handed over a scroll...took out the bottle of ink...produced the key...went down on his knees and held out his hand...
Still deep in thought, she looked up and could vaguely make out the silhouette of a young man walking his cycle towards her. As he reached her bench, he stopped, smiled, wished her a Happy Birthday and handed over a scroll...took out the bottle of ink...produced the key...went down on his knees and held out his hand...
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For every day of the past one year since that chilly November evening, Sharnok would come back from work, ask Etenielle for the keys, open the tiny latch just beneath her temple and peer down closely to inspect her dreams. Sometimes, he would take notes in his small pad; sometimes, he would frown and mutter 'impossible' under his breath; while at others, he would break into peals of laughter, annoying Etenielle no end! For ever since she had taken to surrendering the keys to Sharnok, she could no longer remember her own dreams, once awake. But at the end of every such inspection, he would do everything to make them come true. Once, when she had dreamed of a camel ride across the Alps, he had had to sell his mother's jewellery to arrange for it. One other time, when she had dreamt of making love to his friend Joshen, he had gone to the farthest ends to make it come true. What a task it had been - convincing Etenielle, getting Joshen drunk enough and watching it all as his heart broke into pieces through it all. But he couldn't bear the thought of losing her... *******************************************
It was unusually chilly that day - exactly a year since they had met at the park - the day of Etenielle's twentieth birthday. Sharnok had gotten off early from work, so made it to the florist's, bought the prettiest lilies, had them wrapped and headed back home. There he found Etenielle sitting, reading by the window, looking radiant in the fading twilight of November. She faced to turn him, smiled and held up the cover of the book she'd been reading. He tilted his head and read 'The Moon and Sixpence...ah, I see you haven't finished reading it in one whole year!'
'I'm actually reading it from exactly the point I'd let go off, from last year', she smiled, put a bookmark and put it down. 'Let me get you the key' she said.
He would have to get over the dream-inspection quicker today, he thought as she went inside. Make quick notes and get on with the celebrations, is what he had in mind. When she handed him the key, she put her arms around his neck, tiptoed and kissed him, whispering a barely audible 'Thank You' in his ears...
He ran his fingers softly through her hair and said, 'Let's see what Little Missy has been dreaming about ...let's make them true, now, right?' They both smiled.
Gently he turned the key, opened the latch to her mind and peered down.
There she was, sprawled against their newly purchased carpet, blood spewing out of her throat, the tip of her left thumb desperately trying to grow longer. As she wriggled and writhed, he could make out the form of a man with blood-soaked hands kneeling slouched beside her - a sharp knife in his hands. Even as pools of sweat gathered around his brow, Sharnok peered closer into her mind, waiting in a fit of desperate urgency to see his face. The man in her dreams looked up to face him, his eyes tired and diffident.
Sharnok froze as his eyes met his own.
'What's taking you so long today? While you're at it then, let me read out to you..."You had no pity for her, because you have no pity for yourself. And you killed her out of fear, because you trembled still at the danger you had barely escaped” - Etenielle's voice wafted in ever so tenderly....
For every day of the past one year since that chilly November evening, Sharnok would come back from work, ask Etenielle for the keys, open the tiny latch just beneath her temple and peer down closely to inspect her dreams. Sometimes, he would take notes in his small pad; sometimes, he would frown and mutter 'impossible' under his breath; while at others, he would break into peals of laughter, annoying Etenielle no end! For ever since she had taken to surrendering the keys to Sharnok, she could no longer remember her own dreams, once awake. But at the end of every such inspection, he would do everything to make them come true. Once, when she had dreamed of a camel ride across the Alps, he had had to sell his mother's jewellery to arrange for it. One other time, when she had dreamt of making love to his friend Joshen, he had gone to the farthest ends to make it come true. What a task it had been - convincing Etenielle, getting Joshen drunk enough and watching it all as his heart broke into pieces through it all. But he couldn't bear the thought of losing her... *******************************************
It was unusually chilly that day - exactly a year since they had met at the park - the day of Etenielle's twentieth birthday. Sharnok had gotten off early from work, so made it to the florist's, bought the prettiest lilies, had them wrapped and headed back home. There he found Etenielle sitting, reading by the window, looking radiant in the fading twilight of November. She faced to turn him, smiled and held up the cover of the book she'd been reading. He tilted his head and read 'The Moon and Sixpence...ah, I see you haven't finished reading it in one whole year!'
'I'm actually reading it from exactly the point I'd let go off, from last year', she smiled, put a bookmark and put it down. 'Let me get you the key' she said.
He would have to get over the dream-inspection quicker today, he thought as she went inside. Make quick notes and get on with the celebrations, is what he had in mind. When she handed him the key, she put her arms around his neck, tiptoed and kissed him, whispering a barely audible 'Thank You' in his ears...
He ran his fingers softly through her hair and said, 'Let's see what Little Missy has been dreaming about ...let's make them true, now, right?' They both smiled.
Gently he turned the key, opened the latch to her mind and peered down.
There she was, sprawled against their newly purchased carpet, blood spewing out of her throat, the tip of her left thumb desperately trying to grow longer. As she wriggled and writhed, he could make out the form of a man with blood-soaked hands kneeling slouched beside her - a sharp knife in his hands. Even as pools of sweat gathered around his brow, Sharnok peered closer into her mind, waiting in a fit of desperate urgency to see his face. The man in her dreams looked up to face him, his eyes tired and diffident.
Sharnok froze as his eyes met his own.
'What's taking you so long today? While you're at it then, let me read out to you..."You had no pity for her, because you have no pity for yourself. And you killed her out of fear, because you trembled still at the danger you had barely escaped” - Etenielle's voice wafted in ever so tenderly....
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