by Priyadharshini G S
Some souls are born just to remain wandering amidst the other lonely souls in the much crowded planet. Vendetta Graham pondered thus as she lay on her bed trying to count the sheep. Confused she was once again at the numerous contradictions that life had to offer. The contradictions of life to the vicious and punishment to the innocent, the way nature wanted to build balance in destroying a large bulk of human population at an instant and yet remain a silent witness to the nature-destroying population, and numerous other instances. Yes, despite not being the kind that really cared for the welfare of a greater good, she had gradually begun to think in these lines. Adversity was finally injecting some gradual changes in her... changes that would divert the self-pitying mind into a constructive one that would contribute and make a minor change in the world that she so very much had an aversion for.
But this night as she lay thinking, the serpent spoke again, tracing her back to the old, wistful days when she lay there as a victim of the venomous python within. The mere flashes of those episodes created a turbulence and she was once again unsure about how she was to proceed any further thereof. She kept twisting and turning and then in the darkness began the silent toil of the mind.
To soothe the often turbulent waves was not an easy task, and yet she knew, that if not for constant effort, the waves and the walks that stemmed in her mind would never come under control. And there she lay, trying again with all the might.
Hopeless had been those nights held within the wraps of the python that the reptile had been victorious enough to crumble the tissues and suck the life out of her. Suck the life? If that was true, was she resurrecting herself now? May be yes, or may be no.
It was dawning on her that the submission to the python would only crumble her into lifelessness and that she had to constantly perspire to rise above all odds to live the life of the cheerful, happy, person that she had lost in herself as a kid.
So there, she began again... striving and shifting the needle of the compass to point to the darkness that enveloped the outer space, trying to lighten up the darkened planet and in the effort lighten up the darkness surmounting her — from within and out.
The darkness of the night gradually gave in to the breaking of dawn and Vendy, after the tiresome efforts of the night, pushing the needles, began shifting into that trance. The evaporating darkness made it clear to her, even in those transcending moments that the onset of dawn was a ray of hope that light was setting. Yet here she was, lying helpless after the tired night, finally giving in to sleep.
An ardent reader, an Editor by profession and a writer who goes by the famous saying of Thoreau - "How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live".
The story here is of a girl's recollection of moments before falling asleep. The constant struggle against the odds of life and the shifting of focus from the inside to the outside, from the depth of darkness to the light, is the central theme of this micro fiction.
Pieces Inspired by this Image
'A Forest of Courage'
'Beneath These Branches'