Story 2: Watambi and Sandy
Chapter 1 - Watambi's Intro
The Sun is flaming red and so strong is its
intensity that even the fluidic clouds seem to sense the tension. There is no
one around and Watambi is walking. Alone. The journey is to somewhere beyond
and the quest seems unfathomable. Always the recluse, he could absorb
the sanctity of being with his own thoughts soothing.
From the times when Watambi believed in feelings being an illusion to meandering around the narrow runaways with cheap popsicles
stuck in his mouth, material feelings for him was always hard to believe. He would walk the lonely road miles
away from the neon lights and yet he could sense an unnatural peace. Peace from
being a misfit and proud to be so.
Photo courtesy: http://graphics8.nytimes.com/images/2013/07/18/arts/Rainroom-LN/Rainroom-blog480.jpg
Whenever he would come back at his temporary shelter, his room was always filled with darkness. Due to the formal requirement of luminosity, Mrs. Peggy had against his wishes installed a disco ball. When switched on, his room would suddenly spring out alive with unwelcoming colours as if teasing at Watambi's situation. A voluminous bright ball, it hanged on the tenterhooks of a whimsical thread. So intense were the colours that Watambi at times would cover his intense eyes with his lonesome hands. The colours would shimmer in contrasts and would start dancing in the room. Rotating at a very slow axis, they would cause an inflammation to the room's tranquillity.
There was rows and rows of depressions caused on the walls when the colours left. The seldom happiness was something Watambi was not used to. The colours zoomed in their own pace and yet when they left the spot seemed ignored. Only to be filled again, yet seemed temporarily ignored. The disco ball was the only source of light and considering the sheer austerity, the room seemed engrossed enough to even care. There seemed no known shades though. They were just soothing colours of yellow, golden yellow, red and more subtle red. Watambi was in his early 20s and considered himself an alien. In spite of constant haunting thoughts, supernatural slants of unhappiness and loneliness, he was content. With himself.
There was rows and rows of depressions caused on the walls when the colours left. The seldom happiness was something Watambi was not used to. The colours zoomed in their own pace and yet when they left the spot seemed ignored. Only to be filled again, yet seemed temporarily ignored. The disco ball was the only source of light and considering the sheer austerity, the room seemed engrossed enough to even care. There seemed no known shades though. They were just soothing colours of yellow, golden yellow, red and more subtle red. Watambi was in his early 20s and considered himself an alien. In spite of constant haunting thoughts, supernatural slants of unhappiness and loneliness, he was content. With himself.
Disclaimer: I do not hold rights to the image and solely is used for representation.
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