I knew straight away...

Do I always have to write here? =P

It had been a tedious day at work and as soon as I entered my fifth-floor flat; I fell on my couch and sighed.

I had been staggering at work too because I got up late this morning. I guess I was absorbed in the utopic world of my dreams so much that I did not wake up even when the alarm rang. I managed to collect ny things, prancing around trying to find my clothes when I finally woke up. And in the parking lot when I heard my car's security alarm echoing, I realized that m insomnia had traded places with my migraine during the day.

In a state of oblivion, I sat there on the two-year old couch and scratched my head. Finally I got up and went to the door where I had noticed my 'snail mail' when I had first entered. I picked up a dozen letters and fanned through them.Hidden beneath a white one; was the one I was always afraid I'll get one day. I knew straight away the blue envelope was from him. I felt afraid to open it...

A chill went down my spine. I had been told by eminent physicians that fear was food for my insomnia and that I had to battle it for the rest of my life. But although I had been very careful with my fears, the fear of veracity could never be denied.

I dropped all the other envelopes and stood there in front of the wooden door, holding the knob, motionless.

The envelope read, 'Anwesh Rao. 14/7, Blue cemetery, NYC'

Anwesh was a mortician in the blue cemetery. He had a son, Sorab, who suffered from chronic bronchitis. I, since I had first met Anwesh in a coffee shop where he had insisted on buying me a cappuccino, had a frank, cherubic attachment with Sorab. He was a little boy; eight years of age and was probably the most adorable kid I had ever seen.

I opened up the envelope. It had a little note in it. With a fear that I would lose someone, I began to read it.

"Dearest Aashi,
I wish he had more time. So you could have met him. But...I wonder why God's so cruel at times.
I'm sorry. Even if I tried, I couldn't have saved him.
Anwesh"

And as soon as I finished, I fell on my knees and started crying. As loud as I could. Sorab, was dead.

It felt as if someone had taken out all the love from my heart. As if someone had played with my soul. As if all my weak fears had risen as a fiend, a bane and were able to destroy me.

I remembered when that cute little kid, many moons ago, held my index finger to cross the road to his dad. When I kissed his head to thank him for the chocolate he offered me. When he smiled at me, showing his broken milk teeth, as he looked at his dad digging a grave, in order to answer my simple question, 'Are you proud of your dad, Sorab?'

As I cried, I began to feel head aches.My brain afflicted in my skull.My nerves felt claustrophobic. It was becoming painful to remember those beautiful memories. And the last thought I had was, as far as i could remember, that how would Anwesh, a man never afraid of the dark and dead, be able to bury his own flesh and blood?

Reviews

[Scott Free]

Wow, good story! Is this the beginning of a book or the beginning of a short story, or a whole short story? I couldn't tell from your notes.
Anyway, the overall story of this is good. There are a few commas misplaced here and there and a few words missing. You should probably read this aloud and you'll find the changes.
My main comment would be to let us in on her memories with Sorab *before* we find out that he's dead. It's not nearly so meaningful afterward. We think, 'okay, she's sad, what does this mean to the story?' But if you describe beforehand we will get a feeling that this is important. Then when she finds out that he's dead we'll be much more touched.
Anyway, I liked this. As always, you have great ideas.

Scott

[Bruno]

How touching. I loved this write. Well done and keep writing!

[ElizabethAnn]

this is so gripping. great write. if there is more to the story, you're starting good characters, but, of course, it is wonderful the way it is now. wonderful piece.

[Talal Tashfeen]

I love it!!! =D