A New HomeA Story by Ayesha AtifHow 'love' primarily effects us.I was told that Sarah is crackbrained, foolish, demented and an unexpected personality suffering from bipolar disorder. A gut feeling gave me the urge to meet her. I functioned myself into her room wriggling so that I may be left unnoticed. There was a silent force spread in the room even my tiptoe could be clearly heard. I found Sarah sitting in the corner of the room like a corpse. Or were those just her remains? I crept slowly near her, she turned her face round like a puppet tossing its eyes in a haunting way and she looked away. I serially tried to touch her skin, Sarah resisted it. I gathered endurance to start a conversation. 'How are you doing, Sarah?' I asked fearlessly. 'You ask a dying body, How has it been? I have a feeling cold, Ever since', she responded. It was strange. I was perplexed or mystified how you would define it. Poetic answer, it was not what I was expecting from a mentally ill paitent. 'Do you remember anything from your past?' I stretched the conversation. 'Ever since he left, Has lived within me, There is no ever possibility, Or a cure to my anxiety', she replied unafraid. 'What are you trying to explain?' I asked curiously. 'There's no clear gesture to what, I see, I feel, I smell and hear, There's no cure to the memories, Which has left an empty affair', she murmured rottenly. The only feature I could see in the darkness was her lips. Frozen sealed lips were moving after a long time. She might have heard her own voice after a very long gap. I ignored and continued. 'Empty affair? Do you feel alone?' 'An aching heart designed of clay, Recognizes her folks as her enemies, While God forgot to add death in her grave...' She paused. 'I let the journey progressed on its own, A faith inside told me I am never alone, But dust is dust, stones are stones, I was left unconcocted to be drowned' It was he who built the tower of faith, Perished, felt weak in the time of need, Discontiuned his certainty to long, Left me destituted in search for the answers, For everything which felt like a strong promise, Abandoned me with a reclusive fever, I was withdrawn into the darkness, Rejected by the world, accepted by murk..' She pressed her heart in a flow. And I could feel my heart beating out of my chest. Her words were defying my aching. Sarah was alleviating her fears but it was making me powerless. My temerity advanced me to ask her the final question lingering in my mind. 'Who is he, you are referring to?' She grovelled forward and looked straight into my eyes. Her eyes had a strong penetrating force. My body could feel hurt, my psyche impaired and my soul disfigured. When she crawled furthering me I realised Sarah was a beauty in dirt. She scouted tenderly and still unreal enough to remember who I was. 'His lap was a toy I played with, And now I rejoice the memories, I wanted him to keep me veiled forever, He questioned my credence instead, How could he ignore what I had seen? The sufferings from suffering of human beings, How could he forget who I was? An origin who spoke of Papa a lot, His speech has always meant stocks to me, Doesn't he have faith to bring a change in me? Always feared the unknown gibberish, Struggling his losses in practicality, How could he not know me? Creating a mother wit in every single thing, Dragged down the impracticality in me, Weren't tears too big for juvenile? If he ever cares I wouldn't want to know, My heart is too dark to care, fixed with stones, This impeccable depth is my new home, Never entering my father's mundane dome'. I was blown! Injured! A stroke crashed down my ribs. Whites turned into red. It was the sign of something I never imagined. A trauma, confusion I never wanted to go through, but it was for real. My mistakes were finally released. An object I attacked, broken down, and never gave consideration to, was now a result of a deranged, disordered and disturbed life. Her memories hadn't forgotten me. But her visualisation had. Her flashback contained severe reminiscence but her recollection was impaired in recapturing me physically. And now she was living in 'a new home'. © 2014 Ayesha AtifAuthor's Note
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4 Reviews Added on April 16, 2014 Last Updated on April 16, 2014 AuthorAyesha AtifKarachi, PakistanAboutHalf the lies they tell about me aren't true. Advanced Global Personality Test Results Extraversion||||||30%Stability||||||||||||43%Orderliness||||16%Accommodation||||||||||||||||63% Intell.. more..Writing
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