The Two Roads (Flash Fiction)

She was tired. Once again, she found herself standing at the cross-roads. The path that she had previously walked on had led her to a dead end. Dejected, morose, and extremely fatigued, she felt like screaming her lungs out. It was alright to scream. Her cries fell to deaf ears even when she screamed on top of her voice. No one seemed to be listening to what she really wanted to say.

How had she landed herself in this situation? She wondered about what had to be done next. Taking decisions had never been her strong point. It is never too late to return – people used to say. She had managed to retrace her steps and had landed at the intersection yet again. Once again, she had to make a choice. Which road should she take? Should she take a new path and see where it leads her? Perhaps, it would take her to those who valued her. At the same time, there was also the possibility that the new road could still lead her to old disappointments. Did she have it in her to handle another blow? She was not too sure.

On the other hand, she could go back to the old road that led to her old life. 

Fighting the same old battle on familiar ground seemed like a safer option. Perhaps, she should go back to those who might, someday, learn to value her. Perhaps, she was giving up too easily. Change was a long, painful process and she wasn’t even sure if she would get the returns from it that she desired. Perhaps, treading on a new path was a futile attempt at obtaining something that, probably, isn’t meant for her.

Who decides what is meant for you and what is not? A voice surfaced from inside. She did not know who owned this voice. It did not soothe her. It only added to her confusion. The time to ponder was up. It was now time to act. In front of her, lay two paths. One path led her to her old life; there were thorns on the way but she was aware of where those thorns were and she knew which areas to avoid and where to walk. It would ultimately lead her to where she had come from – a familiar life of hurt, despair, and monotony.   The other path demanded new actions and came with the hope of providing her a different life, perhaps, the life that she had always craved for. Yet, it was unfamiliar territory and she was completely clueless of the hurdles that were strewn her way.

She took a deep breath. There was a determined look in her eyes that pointed steadfastly at the two roads that lay ahead. She had made her choice. She lingered at the cross-road for some more time before, finally, walking ahead in the direction of her chosen path.

The Redemption (Flash Fiction)

She always looked like a picture of happiness. No matter how bad the day was going, she always had a radiant smile pasted on her face. With her incessant candid chatter, she always amused her colleagues and friends. You could have a dialogue with her on any topic under the sun. It did not matter that she was not interested in politics or current affairs. She could still weave a conversation with the inputs you gave her. She rambled about the weather; she discussed movies and books; she could lecture you on any topic pertaining to philosophy or the behavioural sciences. However, when it came to talking about her personal life, she always remained silent. So engrossed were people in catching up with her lively chatter that this significant aspect remained hidden from their view.

She was a strong woman. She treated the thoughts in her head in the same manner as she treated the bruises on her body – she concealed them successfully from the eyes of the world and grinned at her wonderful accomplishment. With time, the bruises increased. So did the intensity of the thoughts she swallowed. Suppressed thoughts, however, have a tendency to gestate; and over a period of time, they grow into something else. She got tired of paying the price. She started harbouring bitterness towards herself and for her victim position.  She tried in vain to mutate these thoughts into something beautiful. As she hid more and more, she found herself forgetting who she was and she was gradually getting lost.

A fire was raging inside her and she needed to do something to extinguish the hell that was burning her insides. She dug the blade on to her skin and watched it peeling off all vulnerabilities – of pain, of pleasure, of life, of death – with a broken smile on her face. She did not flinch and she did not scream. With each drop of blood that fell, she felt her tainted soul getting more and more purified.

They found her body the next day. Even her lifeless body exuded a portrait of serenity. Why wouldn’t it? She had successfully managed to escape the agony that had been eating her inside. Her soul, now repaired of its ugly marks of pain, had successfully renounced the physical body and was already on its way to a new and, hopefully, better destination.