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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2188752
Rated: E · Fiction · Contest Entry · #2188752
its mostly about how an atheist comes in the contact of a spiritual one.
Was It True?


The probability of having a petty little talk with someone from a mystical world had never quite crossed my mind. I always had this obvious idea...that anything heard or seen from a "paranormal" world must be brushed off ....it was something that I presumed, but, not existed right?
What life stored in for me was far off from reality something that I had hoped never to perceive...just came in like a light waft on a nasty summer day making things quite pleasant but at the same time sickening just like a lump in the throat too hard to gulp down....such was my experience at "Roger's Library".

That pleasant sunny day, was enough to convince my mind for a light stroll well just enough ......... just enough to make my psyche free of all the tantrums and the quarrels at house which took place right at 6 in the morning ....such loud were their voices; compelled me to get done most of my work in an usual morning hour and out of that vicious house. As I walked up a long way (that is enough to make the house out of my sight) I put a longing glance on the library which stood right as it was so clear, so distinct which somehow attracted me towards it. I kept walking unclear and confused for I heard gossips of this magnificent library...where people stated ridiculous remarks such as "how terrifying that thing was, indeed"; "Believe me dear I've seen worse". When I mocked or made sarcastic comments they'd often reply; making their voice extremely creepy thus suspicious with dreary eyes staring right at me , "you are wrong" and I would remain silent, maybe in an attempt to make me a bit nervous I thought but they were never in a mood to, as I realized today standing at my porch, staring at the white daisies which danced in their own rhythm while the clouds kissed the light coloured sky making my heart thump a beat just even thinking of that incident.
The library held a stony silence. Well one of the reasons for I found it appealing as if it was proud of itself...to an extent perhaps .As I looked for a cosy place with a copy of "The diary of a young girl" I made the seat temporarily mine. It hadn't been more than twenty minutes when, strode in a man maybe not more than 30 with scars all over his face, resembling a solider but he didn't look like one .He was stout with an embedded confidence flaring out of him, I felt a vibe which I took as a challenge to break , perhaps (I had no idea why).He came in with a copy of "The Sensualist by Ruskin Bond" which quite impressed me ,indeed .He kept in looking for a seat as if all the seats were occupied. A few moments later when I had stopped looking, I felt a shadow over me as the gloomy clouds covered the mountains which attained a great height over time, as if the clouds were the blockade to its triumph. I looked up with no thoughts running in my mind and found nothing ,but as I turned to look upon my paperback , I saw the man reading as patiently enough with no interruption , his dark brown peanut sized eyes kept following each line of the book as if it was printed in gold ....such was his thirst for reading , he looked intent in his business and I found myself foolish enough to brood over the incident.
Well I intended to start conservation and I had to pick up some company, of course I despised myself being lonely, so I spoke.
"Hey, I'm Lola" a simple hey with the perfect touch of sophistication, I said.
He looked around as if there were no one and probably ignored me. I felt hurt and hung my head low. A bit later I thought he must've felt sorry but.....
"Don't hey me kid" , by the words and the way of his accent I clearly worked out that he must've been a British but he didn't look anything like it.
"I was just trying' to be friendly, well I suppose that's a quality you lack..."
And with saying that and a lot of thoughts running in my head I felt proud and got back to reading.
"I didn't quite mean it that way; you know "He said.
"I'm Roj...by the way"
"Hmmmm....."
And then we both smiled and maybe got a familiar connect, because after that day we got to know each other a lot. We used to go there often as if it were a common routine which was supposed to be followed, we grew among ourselves a really nice connect.
But something happened over that summer lately......he stopped coming , I didn't see him coming' anymore...It was like a mist so blur, so exhaustive to look through and it was difficult unreasonably as if maybe that dark shadow empowered me , again.
Due to his continuous absence, my heart ached.....and then one day when I couldn't accept the reality, I once again strode towards the library making up my mind, to give a last visit and hoping to hear from him.
As I approached the librarian said softly "He'll never arrive."
"Excuse me.....I'm sorry ....." I was, simply perplexed.
"I ask you, didn't you ever noticed the picture of the man hanging while coming into the library......"

By SHAHATAJ SARKAR



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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2188752