Anonymous

There’s a door at the end of the corridor. It’s not dark. But only a part of the corridor is lit with lights. The other half is dark. I am standing at the other end. I am so curious. There are people coming and going occasionally. It doesn’t bother me though.

I walk slowly. I have never been here before. There is a squash court downstairs. Two of the courts are being used. A girl of no more than 16 years, plays vigorously in the first court. She’s wearing a red shirt and track pants of black.

This game makes a lot of noise, I think to myself. I don’t know much about it. It resembles tennis. But of course they’re different. Come to think of it, it’s actually the first time I have seen this game. I walk further.

Before I can turn to see the occupants of the last court (as the second of the two was the last one in use), I get distracted. A drop of water falls behind me and makes a sound. I turn around and look at the small puddle of water I just passed unknowingly. I look up at the ceiling. And to my amusement (I don’t know why it is amusing) this side of the corridor’s ceiling is undone. It’s grey. It has wires hanging down the ceiling. And the ceiling leaks.

A gush of wind distracts me further. I go towards the open. I stand there listening to the sound of the wind. It’s beautiful and soothing. I put my hand up to the direction of the wind. The railing I stand at overlooks the city. Cars are strewn across the road and people are walking and the horns...

I get distracted yet again. This time by a shout. I walk to the last court and see if something has happened. Nothing has happened. Here, the occupants are two boys of twenty years, if I’m not wrong. One’s a boy in blue and the other is in black. They are playing passionately. I stand there, watching. I stand there for a good 10 minutes. Now it’s time for a break. The boy in blue goes out. I assume for refreshments. Or just to get away from the closeness of the court. Or to call his father and tell him he’ll be home soon. Or something else, who knows.

The boy in black stands there with his racket in his hand and relaxes. Takes deep breaths. Then he looks up in my direction. He shifts his weight on his legs. He then decides it’s better to stand straight. He looks into my eyes. He freezes. He can’t move. All he does is look at me. In my eyes. Then he smiles. I smile back. He goes out to his friend.

I turn. My smile turns into a smirk. I am convinced.

His soul is mine. All mine. I am not just a pretty thing. I am powerful. I might’ve followed him here. Or maybe I could feel him in this place unknown to me.

Could he see me? Yes. He had to. He NEEDED to. What is going to keep him up at night then? How will he try to find me when he wakes up from his slumber every day, screaming and writhing in pain? I had to allow it.

I disappear into thin air. I don’t have a destination. I will rest, although I do not need it. I will sleep peacefully tonight, although I do not need it.

You might wonder, what did he do to me to deserve such a thing?

And I want to tell you, he may or may not have done anything to deserve it.

That will remain unknown.

To you.