Posted: June 29, 2014 in My Fiction Closet
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I am preoccupied with slumber, while they pick me up, covered in that soft blanket, and put me in a vehicle.

A car.


I look around, and various paraphernalia comes in sight. 

I begin wailing, a little more, to stop them.

But they won’t. They’re taking me, in this moving machine devoid of life. 

Me, a mortal being, feels trapped inside. 

I try to move, but my new God-given body is fragile and incompetent of showing some brawn.

At first, the atmosphere prevailing outside the glassy, dusty windows of this car felt balmy, with the scorching heat of the sun interspersing over the muddy ground with beautiful shoots and trees. The sky was in a constant cycle of being overcast and overshadowed by dark clouds, as if the sky would copiously pour down its spherules of tears vertically.

In other words, the weather really was unpredictable.

“C’mon, turn on the A.C. for God’s sake, we’re going to die!” declared Havronya, while wiping beads of sweat that were trickling from her forehead to her cheeks.

“OKAY!” corresponded Florentina, who was driving the car at a very high speed, “Sofya, beware, we are going towards my house through a road that has severe bumps and speed-breakers, protect the baby. I don’t want your child to be wounded in any way. Don’t let it slip away from your hands.”

“I won’t, I assure you,” said Sofya, in her firmly soft voice.

It took approximately an hour or two, for them to reach from Islamabad to Rawalpindi, where Florentina, along with her 9 year old child had got an apartment for rent. Nazar, Havronya, Sofya and Florentina, along with me in Sofya’s hands got off the car, and instantly advanced towards Florentina’s apartment. Huge, long, and dilapidated whitish marble stairs greeted us. But they were painted new. At least, they smelled like that.

“I want my sister, where is she now?” inquired Sofya, panting and sweating while climbing the stairs with the other three.

“She’s here, at my home, don’t worry,” reminded Florentina.

When all of them made towards the door of Florentina’s apartment, Florentina rang the electronic bell that was attached on the wall of the door.




Came the melodious sound of an electronic bell.

“Who’s there?” uttered a voice from inside.

“It’s me, Florentina, open up,” hushed Florentina, while clasping at the doorknob, and trying to revolve it.

“Oh, hi! I am so excited! Wow! Did my sister do it?” exclaimed Rada, a very attractive young woman, unmarried, swarthy complexion, big lips and – Sofya’s sister.

Rada waited for 2 days at Florentina’s abode for Florentina, Sofya and her new babe to turn up. She got even more thrilled to recieve me, a babe wrapped in a bundle of comfortable blankets. She almost yelled with excitement. Clearly – she was more than delighted to have a look at her sister’s first ever baby.

Exhausted to a great extent, Florentina, went to the loo for a shower without saying a word, while Sofya answered Rada many of the unanswered queries and of what and how did it all happen.

“I was afraid, really. I had no energy, was lethargic at the time of my delivery. You cannot imagine, Rada, it was a very excruciating encounter. I felt as if I am being burned alive! But thanks to all three of these, especially Florentina; for her efforts and encouragement. And it’s a baby girl, want to hold it?” uttered Sofya to her sister, and proceeded to give the baby to Rada. I must admit, Rada’s arms were very warm, but not softer than my mother’s.

Nazar had this bad habit; he was so prone to sleeping even during daylight, whether he’s seated on a comfortable or a flinty chair or a bed, he slept a lot. Very much. To the extent of inducing his beloved wife Havronya to madness. When Havronya saw him slumbering and snoring again in a sitting position on one of Florentina’s couches, she ignored a little – but was enraged inside as they had plenty of home chores to do at her sister Florentina’s abode.

Sofya walks to the kitchen, opens the fridge to find some raw items to be easily fried or cooked.

On the other hand, a little boy turns up from one of the bedrooms. A boy with a rosy-white complexion, with gleamy eyes and black soft hair. He has a meagre age of 9. He was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Who knew, he would be of significant importance to me in the upcoming years . . .




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