June & July

Chapter 5

JUNE

5. Nightmare :

" Crying doesn't helps ... Does it ?? "

All of a sudden, I woke and ran towards the door, unlocking and unfastening it by spinning the knob hastily, my mind empty with memories and not knowing where I was heading. Eventually, I recognized that it was noise of someone badly crying, followed by terrible and dreadful yelling and shrieks that broke my sleep, and brought me back to actuality.

Bare footed, I found myself sprinting and dashing by taking large strides in a house, which I have never seen, covered in darkness and obscurity, along with murkiness and presenting a view of haunt and trouble, in addition with misfortune and calamity. Though, the looks of surroundings that enveloped me were sufficient to haunt me, but I felt that I didn't have adequate amount of time to switch on the lights and make my pathway obvious and understandable enough. I sensed my feet covered in extreme coldness and draftiness, but that didn't stop me from bumping over every single wooden stair that led to the ground floor.

Shivering breathlessly, I paused myself facing the door from where I could clearly hear someone sobbing and shouting madly. Gulping a lung full of 

air, I found myself iced up and petrified, if truth to be told, in an extremely dim luminosity like an antediluvian figurine at its exact proper position placed in a museum.

My trembling hands reached for the door knob and rotating it nervously and tautly, I opened the door, still hearing someone sniveling and bawling continuously, followed by awful screams and screeches and then, I saw something which made me feel that I have from top to bottom completely lost my consciousness and responsiveness, my mother.

From tip to toe, I had sensation that I wouldn't be able to move any single one of my body part, not even create or produce any sort of indication.

I thought what I saw bumped me off, but rather than that it was the reason or cause I was back in the world of realism, the place where I, indubitably but deplorably belonged.

The sheets of the bed on which I was lying were tightly held by my hands but soon the grip loosened together with breaths when I realized where I was, at my uncle's. Drawing in some air and tucking some slits of my hair at the back of my ears, I tried to calm myself but unwillingly burst into tears. I don't remember how much I cried and what happened next, only few glimpse and glances of my uncle consoling me and serving me water, and then probably I fainted. Maybe, that's only I wanted right now. My only desire giving rise to a palpable and sure conclusion ...

Crying doesn't help ... does it ??