TWO MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT

I loved reading old legends and tales about non-existing things. They soaked up my consciousness and became motives for everything I did. I borrowed the myth for the Living Year from the folklore. During the last months of the winter, like the ancient people, I believed that Vedas and evil spirits wandered the Earth causing troubles. I tried to meet every New Year happily, with a smile on my face for good luck, but as a result I was stuck in my own superstitions. In my effort to meet her with due gaiety I messed everything up, and it all turned upside down. There were exactly two grains of sand left at the top of the hourglass, but they stuck on the opaque glass unwilling to fly down and sink in the desert below. The clock hands hung in space, and I stood communicating with the old instead of meeting the new. The doorbell rang. I timorously opened the door, and like a year ago, before me appeared a giant fichus with the poisonous note: ““I am a singing little bush”. I brought it carefully inside and pushed the button. The fichus started to sing with a coarse voice something like a merry Christmas carol. A tasteless joke with a taste of Christmas. I waited for the second ring terrified because I knew who was coming. The guy with the white beard, only red, lately he’s been visiting me wearing black clothes. He would brake in my home and collect the corpses of my shattered dreams. What remained after him was only dark fog and scent of incense. The grains of sand wouldn’t fall. I had to endure only two minutes before this horror evaporates, but they wouldn’t move. Again, the planets had lined up one after another to have their ring dance and I felt chill as the sun wasn’t there. All I needed was a cup of warmth so I could chase the wicked shadows away from my place.

It all happened again. I knew I had left something unfinished that’s why the time was so slow. The cake had no fortune slips yet. It appalled me. Every time you picked up an oily fortune slip, its message became your destiny. I made the cake, though, and started to spin it until it was dizzy and all the words mixed up. After two minutes its incoherent jabber would stop. Who had I offended? The black and white

There was an old movie sound-tracked only by an out-of-tune piano. The black and white frames were swimming filled with pain and despair. Two minutes, two sand grains and the film will be torn.

Then I remembered to have just missed my chance to forget and rest within these two minutes. To be happy even for awhile. I had forgotten that I could see in colors and to make differ people from objects. Feelings from sympathy.

The sand grains tore off the glass and flew down. The clock hands stood up and the long waited mechanical ticking came. I loved this sound.

Author's Note

There was an old movie sound-tracked only by an out-of-tune piano. The black and white frames were swimming filled with pain and despair. Two minutes, two sand grains and the film will be torn.

Reviews

[Urja Gokani]

amazingly written keep it up !!