adventures with light- vol 1
Trapped in quarantine like everybody, was cjunior, looking for the pipe he had smoking all night. He seemed to have lost himself in these days of house arrest, mostly because he could not go to the lab where he usually always was. The perfect chain: mix of classes, lab and sleep was broken.
The loop was broken.
He got home, eventually and felt like there was less of him in everything. Even the towers of books he had all around him failed to give him happiness. The electronic keyboard too, on which he used to jazz up the fine evenings with some old 80s jazz, sat in melancholy.
And when Light, walked up the stairs of the dingy lodging, she passed the well-remembered door, and was seized with a captivating desire to see what cjunior doing again.
When cjunior Was Returned!
She twisted the door handle and walked in as it was one of those doors she could open anytime, to find the room brilliantly lit with sunshine and his bird Nigella, a parrot from the blue lagoons of Mauritius, slowly enjoying the breeze of the lovely March morning, and the man walking slowly with his crook-handle umbrella.
With hardly a word spoken, he quickly pointed out to the armchair with his umbrella, which was now set up facing the armchair he usually sit, hinting a chance of a rare exchange of words.
Light shot a sharp look at the tall, walking figure, through her bold frames expecting an eye contact, which should have happened minutes ago. Her face, with her curved nose and dangling earrings, appeared blonde in the morning sun. She let her body down in the armchair, with her left leg above the other, with her jet black hair laid neatly upto her shoulders.
The smell of wine and expensive perfume replaced the smell of burnt petromax lamp.
She was the woman.
She wasn't as feminine as most of the women was, but was more intriguing, beautiful in a way only some woman can be. These looks combined with her visible omens of compassion and kindness, which continuously radiated from her face, must've made the unseen, invisible godesses who look from the skies, cloudy and dispersed.
Then, stopping by the balcony and forming a dark silhouette over Light's hazel eyes, he looked over at his unexpected guest in absolute, chivalrous fashion.
"Quarantine suits you,"
He commented, breaking the silence, which almost appeared like a physical blow to Light.
"Doesn't it?", added cjunior, slowly leaning on the umbrella now.
She placed her arms on the sides of the chair, leaving an impression thay she had the whole world under her command, and replied,
"The less human in life, the less hassle", with a tone of advice and slowly gave out an evil, seducive smirk.
The British accent in her had grown and had started to conquer the way she spoke her vowels.
He flashed a gleaming smile somewhere above his beard, which was trimmed to perfection.
Still, Light's radiance was all over the room. Her authority was evident. Like everything in the room was also hers.
And then she killed the parrot with her bare hands.
Ripped it into shreds with her long fingernails.
Blood from it's mangled corpse dripping down her white kurti.
Still she looked captivating, entrancing.
Even as the parrot drew the last breath in her delicate small palms.
She didn't look it in the eye.
Because she remembered the old Chinese saying: 'Never look in the eye of the man you are going to kill.'
And as she came for cjunior, bloodlust in her hazel eyes, he knew his end was near.
But her couldn't stop watching her, her face twisted into an emotionless mask.
Her dress dripping with pure blood.
And her small delicate hands with guts hanging from them as then began to wrap around his thin neck.
He knew his end was near.
Still, cjunior chose to just stand there. Before all of this bloodshed and drama, still thinking to himself, 'What a woman!'
And he got lost in her hazel eyes as she ripped off his throat.
~
She could see it all in her mind. How she could get Nigella first, and then go for the man.
But she couldn't do it.
because she was the woman?
In his eyes, saw reflections of memories. It was there and it was so clear. All of his bloodline, childhood, just like her mother had said in one of those bedtime stories, when she was small.
She remember having braids and her mother's black hair slowly untie in the midnight breeze.
"Each of us carry the memories of the ourselves within us. It's in our eyes, you just have to look closely."
Her mother's soothing voice echoed endlessly through the now ghostly walls of her mind.
She couldn't think of doing it anymore. She couldn't rip his throat off.
She just stood up, still maintaining eye-contact, walked over to the man and and stood right before him. There was something particular about her stride.
The air hung heavily over cjunior's.
- to be continued