

Tomb of Love

By

Salima Shehrzade Inayat

The din of the heavy metal and the clink, clink of the chains jangling and causing mutiny against silence convinced Isaac that he was a prisoner. He endured noise of the heavy machines and the waves of the water crashing and causing movement for survival in a land far from homeland. Revisiting old moments was a futile existence but he was helpless to silence the ghosts of the past. While he hauled the heavy nets dragging slithering fishes on to the large trailers ready to transport the quota of marine finds to darkened room infested by the smell of the decaying fins and sumptuous meat, familiar faces returned to haunt him. He carried out the same work, under the same sky that trailed him in a place where he was a stranger and there was no escape from the daunting realization that he had to return home to mend the broken promises.

Now watching the hues of the early morning sky and the smoke rising from the furnaces near the docks in his hometown he configured the images of his early days in New York where he landed himself a job in a fishery because he was familiar with tasks where the flesh of the marine creatures was sliced or packed in tiny tins to far away lands. Fort Causeway was a small territory tucked out of sight, a mere cusp of the land surrounded considerably by sea was not a destination assailed by the tourists eager to camp in the nearby town resorts for sun and mirth in the brisk cold season of autumn. It had remained a mystery as to why this town received fewer hot spells and more rainfalls and foggy stillness induced by clouds and soft drizzle. Sun was a chance visitor casting momentary relief.

Isaac arrived as a chance visitor in the town stained in indelible hues of unexplained longings. It was ironic that he had to witness the sight of the rusted trailers, empty fishery boats and cold and dull metallic structure of the factories on homecoming. The speed boat driven by the young man who had picked him earlier from the airport glided past the shores enveloped in desertion and unexplained stranded illusion. His early days in New York spent working in the fishery docks increased his isolation in the big city. He spent considerable time visiting the local newspaper's website Fort Gazetteer and keenly absorbed what changes were taking place in his homeland. Fort Causeway was a neglected town that had seen better days. The locals saw to it that they were given the basic needs and requirements to keep them going in times of economic hardships. There was unified demand to raise revenues through the small scale fishery industry which was to be a viable way to help the people make a living. The small island somehow saw itself drifting farthest from the rest of the surrounding towns into a state of stagnancy. The old pride of the locals who traced their lineage to the early European settlers maintained their aloofness despite forgoing all isms in favour of Christian faith and the town declared a semi-autonomy governmental system choosing its own mayor and committee made of locals to make hefty decisions about how to manage the governmental affairs.

Isaac was sure that only the visitations of unmarked mishaps forced him to leave the town; otherwise he would have been contend to pass his youth as a revolutionary idealist busy penning emotional poetry, charged essays and stories demanding universal equality for people with ideas because when pain in the heart is insurmountable only ideas survive. Amidst the wild and untamed natural surroundings of tall trees, waterfalls cascading down mushy growth of shrubs and grace to flow in a clear stream there was a hidden intoxicated beauty to touch the soul. There was sleepy hollowness about the place where fishery was a thriving industry and the people never saw any need to change the scenery and bring about industrial revolution to make everything look pristinely inviting to the outsiders. Technology came at a slow pace and only when the earlier opportunities to have a railway line to transport timber collapsed the hurried urgency to find a way to sustain economically forced the people to question what ways to employ to garner prosperity. Many offshore companies showed interest in investing in the thriving fishing industry and no one saw any reason to think that they should change and mould their shores to implicate tourists.

The only airport runway that was used for all flights also offered to arrange transport to the travellers. After leaving the plane Isaac walked towards the glassy building of the airport where an attendant was waiting to take him to the speedboat parked on the bay not far from the runway. While getting inside the boat Isaac mulled about the dinghies which were much in common use when he was a child. The vastness of the deep blue water tempted him to sail furthest from the shore in the hope that the realization of not being reciprocated in matter of heart will not drown him into perpetual darkness. It was strange that he was sailing on the waters because his heart was pulling him to return to seek closure of an unfinished matter.

He fumbled the grey metallic key still resting inside his brown chinos for reassurance and thanked the man when the boat stopped by the steps. The docks were his domain for quite some time. In his younger days he would sit on a bench to stare at the vast expanse of water; a habit which acquired him release from the entangled emotional mess he found himself to be in. The memory of the passages and paths of the docks were intact in his mind. While walking down the docks he heard the seagulls circling the cloudy skies. Isaac noticed the rusty boats caked with the sea salt and saw few men sitting and smoking on a malformed structure of a boat half merged in the water. When the stake holders from the outside world came here eyeing the fish docks as a prospective to invest they were not interested in saving the industry and only propped up huge dark structures resembling furnaces of chemical plants to break and dismantle ships for scrap and metal. Little did they realize the hearts and minds engrossed hauling slithery fish in nets were not inclined to salvage the structure to break down ships! The workforce consisted of the locals and the plans for the port did nothing to attract workers from other nearby towns and villages. The viability of the project died down and no one thought about the uplift of the locals who were unable to make up their minds about what was good for them. The nostalgia for the past swept through the entire town and the uncertainty on how to break away from the limbo and reach for safety did not happen any time sooner.

Isaac passed by the barrels carrying some unknown substance piled in a mountain and the wooden slabs under his feet creaked from the weight of his footsteps. The place where once a hut stood to pack the fish to send them further away was nowhere to be seen. In New York he worked for five days in the docks and took comfort in earning wages, even though he was convinced his asthma worsened from the dampness and cold atmosphere. Unknowingly he stepped on a heavy chain lying coiled like a thick long python ready to trap the unsuspected person. The chain still attached to the ramshackle skeleton of a dismantled boat fell down and the serenaded peace of the place was disturbed. He cautioned himself to be weary of the surroundings and clutched tightly the leather bag with his belongings. Not long afterwards he was standing on the narrow strip of road leading to the place where it all began. On observing the panoramic view of the road stretching farthest between thick growths of trees on both side, he concluded that his life was a passing journey that did not start with a smooth sailing and he had arrived to restore the ruptured relations and mend broken promises. There was little else to do but walk the road that will take him to home.

Considerable time passed before the surroundings changed and Isaac was no longer walking on the side of the road leading to the thick and dense area covered by woods. The road disappeared and he had entered the den of a mysterious giant who lived in a house so strong and sturdy that no storm of the past could ravage the walls. In his boyhood days Isaac was convinced that he was the luckiest boy alive to be living in surroundings that were magical and beautiful because of the isolated natural beauty making all paths leading to the house invisible. The thick dark woods were not to be trespassed and he had lost count of the battles his father fought in his time to keep the preying men away from snatching the secluded Shadomoore estate, in order to become a vested commercial property. Everyone knew a local mafia was formed to sabotage the plans to lay the foundations of the railway tracks. Unyielding men who were suspicious of outsiders coming to take over their land and territories drew out schemes to dismantle the railway line and for that they went around asking for trust in their authority or in some cases for monetary assistance.

Isaac's family had an ancient past which kept them together. His father Abraham, a true loyalist to whatever he owned and inherited chose to defy every plan that would open up the town to the outside world. In his younger days he joined the army and was awarded with medals for his rendered services and given promotion, however the transition did not last for too long. The old stubbornness to never part from the past returned with vengeance! When the decision was passed to carve a railway line that would give access to the timber business to transport wood, he saw that akin to making a pact with the devil. Abraham made all out war against the authorities. The merited services of a brave man were not overlooked and he was not painted as a traitor and enemy of the state but they dislodged him in more than one ways by forcing him to resign from the army for posing the government in more than usual harsh tones.

Abraham turned to a bitter man reliving the glory of the past and enraged for not being acknowledged of all his services in uniform. He spent the rest of his living years obsessing to preserve the walls of the house which he had inherited and early ancestors arriving from the French coastal towns. It was too difficult to ignore that Isaac was not a traitor because having abandoned the town and the house was unforgiving before Abraham. He was driven by the urge to shout out loud Abraham's name and say that he succeeded in preserving the legacy of the ancestors by returning to the woods surrounding the solid brick three storey house.

The house was standing there just like he left it. Under the streaming sunlight filtering through the branches of the trees it appeared sleepy and unperturbed by the arrival of a stranger. Isaac noticed many of the dense bushes had disappeared. Some kind of soil erosion reduced the growth of the bushes and only trees stood still all around the house. He inserted the key in the lock and entered the dark corridor passage. A flurry of dust could be seen on the wooden floors and a musty smell of old objects wafted in the still atmosphere.

He went upstairs to the room on the second floor where seats and chairs were covered with white sheets. Cobwebs hung from the chandelier just like they were visible on the wooden beams, lights and old memorable decorative shields. He was glad to see that the photographs encased in silver grey frames resting on the mantle above the fireplace were intact. With his finger tips he touched the dusty glass of the frame showing a younger Isaac hugging a little girl bearing resemblance to him. The morose guilt resurfaced for not keeping track of the time which had sped passed rapidly and he forgot how best to mourn the absence of a daughter whose presence made him a wholly different person. Irene was eight months old in the photograph. He never refused Irene's urgent glee to see the trees and the sky. The walks in the woods strengthened their bond. She laughed and clung to his shoulder and he did not want to see her tiny face scrunch in disappointment on returning indoors. The memories came flooding back of the time she was alive. She a mere child had the most urgent causes to look for escape from the gloomy house. The news of her end seemed like a prank played to break him. It proved meaningless to claim everything that belonged to him afterwards.

He gave her all the love he had in his heart and it was not enough to save her from dying so young. His dry eyes could not mirror the emptiness he dragged along with him. Many times he was convinced that the search for love led him to return home but other times he reflected and owned up that his battle with inner remorse has left him without a purposeful direction. Love did come in his way but he chose to overcome its charm by staying entrenched in the past too long.

In his endeavour to confirm he had experienced love Isaac wrote a love story which contained truest conviction to what he had experienced. He recalled the ending lines of the story written poignantly about the happiness of the lovers when they were united. His gaze rested on the photograph of his brother Frederick and father, Abraham. They both saw him as a delinquent man unable to match their resilience to stand against challenges. In the photograph his revolutionary gypsy look epitomized the revulsion he held for their choices of physical appearances. Their clothes marked stale respectability and all that they cherished. Abraham chose to wear his old khaki uniform jackets and Frederick had a penchant to wear shirts pristinely clean and well pressed. Isaac stood against everything they preferred and admired for their own worth.

A face emerged on the picture frame. It was the same that visited him in dreams. First the soft jaw line, followed by the piercing green eyes sending a slight tremble in his heart became clear. The single pearl drop earrings fastened on the ear holes that he remembered were missing. The moist lips he envisioned to kiss many times were moist. Suddenly her face was there.

Endlessly he pictured Sophia standing in a hill where the soft breeze gently sways the long green grass. The sleeve edges of the woollen grey jumper she donned collecting the dew drops as her hands swept pass the wet blades of the grass. Her enigmatic laugh muffled by the sound of the wind. He imagined meeting her on a grassy hill where the raised earth invites to experience the sojourn in the natural surroundings. But every time he visited hills it hit him harder that he stood there alone. In the course of his life he let go of Sophia and he could not understand why it happened that way. Now she was standing behind him. He turned around and faced her. No he was not dreaming the same dream where they both walked together while holding hands. Instead of tilting her head just a little when they reached the top of the hill she looked straight into his eyes while trying to choose the words carefully in her mind.

'I always thought she looked like you. Others were convinced that she looked like her mother but not me...' Sophia spoke to enhance the validation of the opinion that Isaac's daughter Irene resembled him. She was looking at the photograph of his daughter in a birthday dress. Her pink flounce dress had specks of sparkles.

'I wouldn't be so confident. Anna had the same brown hair that had been passed down genetically from her mother. Look at me.....i am not her,' replied Isaac, while drawing attention to his balding head and grey beard.

They stared at each other and their eyes searched for tangible answers to expel surprise at this moment. Time had aged them. They were in their forties and both had left behind the palatable youth in exchange for maturity. He was glad to see her there because it closed awkward inner monologue which had risen to find a reason to meet her again. Isaac's navy blue blazer jacket and brown cotton shirt and chinos were wrinkled from travelling non-stop in the course of two days. His taste in clothing had altered drastically and he no longer cared about the choices he made on what to wear. AT some stage Sophia would notice this because she once commented that he was fastidious even though he chose to wear outdoor clothing meant to never age with rough wear. He noticed that her long strands had vanished. The crop short hair made her look young even though she was past her forties. The loose black trouser and grey t-shirt she wore were selected with care. She had a penchant for throwing together clothing items which looked like they were never meant to be worn together and looked stylish.

'I am sorry if I am intruding. I saw the door open and came inside. I knew you were coming because I work at the local tourist office where we arrange to send transport for anyone arriving in the island. Your travelling agent sent us the email about you coming over...' said Sophia. She waited for him to speak but when none of the assurance came from him she spoke again, 'You left without telling anyone.'

'I know I made a wrong move....,' answered Isaac. He had arranged the answers in his mind to respond to all the awkward questions and was ready to answer the pertinent reasons for leaving without giving reasons. But it was not a sensible answer to satisfy Sophia. Their souls were entwined and yet he chose to betray their shared trust by never telling her that he was going to go away. Ironically she arrived in the town as a stranger and opted to stay here forever. He decided not to ever disclose to Sophia that he wrote a love story with her in mind. It was read out loud by Linda who forged friendship with him. She declared the story to be his finest writing. Later on Isaac thought little of the praise Linda garnered on the story—he found her judgement was lacking depth which is necessary to understand creativity.

'To be honest everything was complicated because what led to Irene's death could not be explained and so difficult to piece together what happened afterwards.....' her voice trailed and then she stopped from talking any further.

An awkward bitter silence ensued between them and it was enough to convey that there was too much to explain to expose untold grievances.

'I should know it is not my business to intrude in your affairs,' Sophia was the first one to speak. She looked embarrassed to ruffle the past and Isaac was convinced she was sincere in her efforts to approach him.

He recognized her effable genuine nature as the real reason he liked her so much. 'You have every right to expect answers. Your presence was never transitory and you should not have been treated like a stranger. I wish I had informed you before leaving,' he said.

She turned away from him and walked up to the window. Isaac studied her silhouette when she moved aside the curtains. The daylight emphasized the darkness inside the room. He wrote a scene where he had made love to Sophia. It was the climax of the story that helped to build the story.

'I used to think it was magical how the trees were aligned to hide away this house,' said Sophia while she observed the tall trees and their branches scaling all the way up to the sky. 'A wizard's hidden cave or secret hideout!'

'As a child I used to hunt the paths in the hope I discovered a man with a long beard and carried on thinking someone did design the earth to store hidden secrets. This thought eluded me for a long time and must have affected me in subconscious way because I spent most of my adult life in these walls' said Isaac.

Sophia turned around and smiled at him. It made a difference to see her in the house and not be greeted by empty walls. 'You are so different from Frederick. Both of you are brothers in proof only but otherwise no one can recognize you in a single room as real life brothers,' she said.

Isaac noticed her relaxing before him. She looked tense earlier and that did not help him in deciding how to make headway in conversing with her. However he was not ready to talk about Frederick and it threw him back that he was made to acknowledge his presence amidst the chaos of the past incidences. He wanted to obliterate his presence and was glad that there was no fear of seeing Frederick arrives any time sooner there. Sophia came in Frederick's life as his girlfriend and they were naturally suited to be together. She knew people who could advance Frederick's chances to stay in demand because of his numerous talents and it was easy to see she worshipped the ground he walked on. But then Frederick was good to create an aura around him and Isaac saw it as a guise to mask the bitterness he carried in his heart.

'I am good at escaping situations when circumstances are unbearable, whereas Frederick relied on his talents and in that capacity found the strength to appear charming,' said Isaac.

'you would be surprised to learn we had nothing to talk about. I am more of a listener and relied on Frederick to start the conversation. I am still the same kind of person; always wanting to know more than the usual stuff others know,' remarked Sophia. 'Death exists as part of real life. You can create a world where there is no separation from the departed soul,' the last strand of sentence was a hint that Sophia wanted to speak about Frederick's passing away.

'You deserved someone better than Frederick,' however Isaac found it hard to emulate any of Frederick's qualities and wanted to give her assurance that she is free to make her own decisions.

'Frederick had his good side too but he was competitive and proud to accept defeat and that spoiled the trust,' it was clear that there was lot going on in her mind. Sophia left the window and came to stand before the mantle. She studied the old photos of Isaac, his wife Mary and their daughter. Her fingers slowly went around the gilded frame as she peered through the glass. 'Its takes time to get accustomed to day to day existence without the presence of the one we loose. I don't give away my heart that easily and I must say I am glad you are here. We have plenty to catch up!'

Isaac took that as proof that Sophia saw him as a friend and needed an admittance to know her pain can be healed from the strength of support. He envisioned both of them going out for long walks in the woods which will be carried out like a religious ritual meant to release them from too much pain.

'I can talk for hours at end because I have held myself from exposing my inner most emotions.'

'There is a party in the town hall to celebrate the arrival of full moon. You are welcome to come,' smiled Sophia as she extended the invite to him.

He recalled Sophia's talents to celebrate moments and instances and that made a difference in the way she carried herself. Her presence lit the room. She knew how to make eye contact, smile and have small talk with the focus to make the other person feel worthy. Isaac thought that Sophia should have returned to Paris where she worked in the office of a fashion magazine and the routine work involved throwing parties and mingling with people to make strides in forging new contacts. He agreed to go along with her to the party. There was not much to do in the house anyway.

He excused himself to freshen up and left her on her own in the living room. He was not able to spot anything familiar in the room that was his private sanctuary to recover from disappointments and rage. Many of the objects were untouched and he was relieved about it. He hated the idea of someone going through his stuff and arranging the mess of papers and books on the table. Once he had splashed water on his face he was able to feel less tired and was comfortable in the knowledge that he will not be entirely on his own scavenging the past ghost inside the house on the first day.

Sophia drove him in her green car which was an old convertible two seater.

'It was passed on to my by a friend. We both took it as a challenge to save it from being discarded. It drives all right; just new seats and window are required,' she explained the run down condition while noticing Isaac's unease into realizing they were pretty much riding in a car that had visible defects despite driving smoothly. The leather of the seats was ripped in many parts and the front window was replaced with a plastic sheet

They left the woods and entered the single carriage way leading to the town. Isaac noticed that time had stood still as he remembered sedate greenery of bushes and shrubs on the side of the road and he was relieved to discover this. When they reached the town the visible signs of slow intake of progress could not be missed. People stared to notice a stranger amidst them. Young and old people had time to lounge in benches and on open pavements. The shops sold the bare essentials and apart from few stores selling groceries and restaurants there was nothing worthy for a traveller that the town could offer.

The car drove passed the sleepy town. The sunset in the distance distracted Isaac and he was transfixed by the soft glow on Sophia's face. The sun was warm and gloriously golden so that the lined old buildings looked as if bathed in the warm hues of rich brown shades. He spotted few grey stands amidest her short brown hair. Sophia's confidence was still there and that added to the alluring charm she carried with her. He was lucky to be sitting next to her and to get the chance to observe her from close. He remembered well what it was to be missed and longed for and now that Sophia was next to him he could envision a time where they can open up to each other and talk in depth about their longings. He had trouble imagining Sophia as settled woman looking for stability. She wanted the hours to stretch endlessly in the company of those who latched on to her. But it was not easy to gain her trust and that made the difference. The ones who were seconded by her were the lucky ones and the rest revelled to be in her shadow. She took time to open up and it was clear to Isaac why she was attracted to someone like his brother. They were opposite in nature and that is why they stayed together until Frederick decided to leave her stranded. Frederick chose to ignore people at whim. AT one time it appeared both Sophia and Frederick would resign to stay together and that dashed Isaac's hope she would see him to be more than just her boyfriend's brother.

They reached the entrance of the town hall that was much more a place to bring in folks who could wile away time in meaningless cultural activities to create nostalgia about the past even though the past was anything but glorious and worthy enough to miss. They entered the lobby of the listed building and left their jackets in the cloak rooms. From somewhere the sound of slow music being played could be heard. They reached the hall on the second floor that was filled with people and where the party was taking place. A woman in a tinsel dress was singing a song on the raised stage at the far end of the room, which Isaac thought sounded garish and was made of the stuff composed without giving second thought to the quality of singing or composition of music.

Sophia walked around the room stopping to exchange few words with people who were clearly pleased to see her there. The surge of the crowd did not make it easy for Isaac to follow her and he was left standing on his own. He could see that it was Sophia's circle of friends and she brought together the individuals who were not scared to mirror their strangeness. Few of the men looked blasé about wearing costumes that are seen in cabaret performances where waitresses serve to reach out for the men's wallets. A woman tipsy to the point of falling over dropped her drink on the dress of the lady singing. She could not stop herself from laughing and few others joined with her too.

Isaac caught glimpse of Sophia pointing at him probably for the attention of two young girls dressed identical and focusing their attention on him. On close observation it was clear they were twins who revelled to look alike. Both sported crimson scarf on their heads with knots on the front. Their sleeveless black blouses were accompanied by floral skirt with big spray of orchids and palm leaves. What could these girls want from him! They were heading towards his direction.

The girl wearing round spectacles spoke to him first, 'the full moon spectacle is already bringing us good luck. Who would have thought we would end up meeting the brother of Frederick Abraham. The iconic and celebrated film director could not have been far from being the most sought after man for his genius and he will never be forgotten.'

The mention of Frederick sounded like a jarred note played to disrupt the harmony on a violin that was producing serene music. Isaac had no idea how to respond and made polite comments in the hope there would be no resurrection of Frederick's memory. But the girls were enamoured by Frederick's iconic status and continued to talk about him. They knew his austere upbringing; the topics he chose to study in the film school; the actresses he promised to cast in the film but never did so; the magic realism techniques he employed to make his documentary film a legendary material to win some prestigious prizes in Hollywood. Isaac gradually edged backwards not realizing that he was standing behind a waiter carrying drinks. The girls took their drinks and hinted at Isaac to pick a drink too.

'I have given up drinking..' said Isaac.

Both the girls looked surprised and Isaac noticed they raised their eyebrows in affirmation that he was missing out in being part of the party's atmosphere by refusing to share a drink with them.

'I don't trust anyone who does not drink,' a bald old man came to stand along with them. He smiled while raising his glass and winking at the girls and nodded at Isaac too.

'It's a habit that I have given up and remain comfortable about it,' answered Isaac.

'Who wants to remember about sleepy nights! The essence of civilized pleasure associated with drinking is seldom forgotten,' said the man.

'I have my reasons for not drinking,' commented Isaac.

The man wore a flowery shirt and his knotted hand went through the smooth skin of one of the girl's bare back. He was the kind of man who refused to leave behind the mirth and pleasures for any reason.

'if I was a young I could have agreed with you but now I am not given to too much of intoxicated stuff,' replied Isaac.

'I remember Frederick to be a man of aesthetics and one who took his drinking habit seriously. He did not think that staying on the perimeters and distancing himself he was at an advantage. He threw his soul at being with others.' The man was not phased out by Isaac's refusal to drink but it was difficult to digest that Frederick was longed and missed by many in the room. 'I wont spill the drink but I will carry on drinking,' the final note from the man was nothing more than just a phase to prove that everyone should love their enemy even at a point of being harmed.

When he finally left them standing and talking Isaac scanned the room to search for Sophia. The singer continued to sing the same kind of songs and everyone seemed to be having a good time except him. He wanted a moment to be away and make out what to think of the palpitating heartbeat making him want to tear away the façade of the party's atmosphere where he was a stranger. They knew who he was and he did not know them. Few more people came up to him to talk about Frederick and to recall his greatness. He was helpless against their admiration for Frederick and their urgency to extract some kind of response made him desperate to leave the place.

He finally saw Sophia standing by the large window overlooking the town in darkness. She did not turn but knew he was standing behind her.

'How much do you remember about me Isaac,' asked Sophia.

'I am not an artist to restore the details which makes a painting look attractive but if I was one it would have made a difference as to how I saw you. I am vague about my real emotions. Loneliness is not a punishment because it can teach you a lot about your own self and it is only then that the needs of the heart are acknowledged. I discovered you Sophia while I hunted for a purpose.'

She turned to face him. The soft green eyes of Sophia gave him a glimpse of what was going on in inside her. She had guarded her soul with the intention to avoid getting hurt. She was good at beguiling others into believing she was strong to be on her own and that made all the difference. A man came to stand between them. The assuredly quiet way he stood made Isaac weary that another admirer of Frederick has come to talk about him.

But the introduction changed everything between them. Sophia held the man by his arm and said, 'Meet my husband, Denial.'

'I am late at arriving in a scene where Sophia is her own mistress and hardly know any of her friends,' spoke Danial as he extended his hand towards Isaac.

The mention of the word 'friend' sounded as a steep admonition from Sophia. All along he had been hopeful that she would be there for him; even though he left without saying goodbye to her. She knew that he trusted her more than anyone else.

'To be honest I know no one Sophia knows too well and that is perfectly acceptable to me,' answered Isaac.

He cringed to imagine the three of them were like good mates working out complexities of relationships by being together. Isaac was convinced Sophia was less complicated than him and that would have made the difference in how the approached the future.

Danial unaltered and not bothered about Frederick came across different than the eccentric group of friends Sophia had around herself with.

Isaac studied Danial. His muscular built, high cheekbones and crewcut made him look like a revolutionary guard of the past. But when they talked it became clear to Isaac that Danial was not at all interested in politics. He was the manager of the information centre for tourists and an avid biker. They talked until they had nothing much to say to each other and Danial excused himself to leave the party to catch up with some paper work in the office. Danial worked in the same tourist office where Sophia worked. Isaac was relieved he was left on his own with Sophia. At every turn throughout the day Isaac had received surprises and he felt it was now up to him to do some explanation.

'It was not easy to forget you and I trailed after the voices calling from my heart to return. That is why I am here. I need to be only with you at some quieter place where our hearts speak for us.' Isaac was sure he made the right move by explaining his intensions better.

'I cant believe you are saying this,' answered Sophia. Behind the reflection of the dark night visible through the window she looked attractive and desirable.

'Why is it so hard to believe for you?'

'Don't misunderstand me when I say this because I always admired you. But you did not return to be with me. Something else brought you back to this little town. Walk back in time and it will be clear to you what happened—lapse of time blurs the actual reality. You once explained to me your real emotions. You were convinced that you never loved me.'

All of a sudden everything around Isaac appeared surreal and distasteful. The entire journey was a mistake, beguiling him into thinking that Sophia was going to forget everything and both of them will start from where they left. He had wasted too much time in putting together reasons why Frederick, Sophia and he were entangled in a web of events which complicated their lives. Or maybe there were other people who were involved in their story but were excluded by him. Isaac said goodbye to Sophia and left the party.

He went along with her with the intention to take her somewhere quieter where they could both talk without being reminded about Frederick but now he was not looking forward to churning and stirring heart-felt emotions. He knew the route well leading to the woods. It was a still night and the road was empty. He felt himself feeling like the teenager he once was; returning to his house late in the evenings in the summer, when the smell of alcohol and smoke filled the fabrics of his shirts. He was glad to be walking on his own because too much had happened to unsettle him in a course of few hours. He had been visited by the ghost of Frederick in a room where everyone wished to evoke his memories and Sophia reminded him he never knew what he felt for her. He was a fool before her and it enraged him to see his folly and still not work the purpose to return to the island.

On returning home the urgency to rush upstairs made him reckless and he knocked a vase resting on the window ledge with dry poppies. He went to the living room where he discovered Sophia standing behind him as he gazed at the photographs on the mantle. Once again his eyes travelled through the still photographs framed and preserved to store away moments that were not rejoinders to suggest that there was harmony between souls. There he was standing in the overgrown garden next to a chopped tree; another photograph showed Abraham in his uniform; Anna on her fifth birthday holding her doll. It was hard to ignore Irene's cheerfulness that rubbed on to others which was a relief to Isaac because he was unable to overcome the darkness inhibited by hardened souls.

His hand reached to hold the photograph where Irene was made to sit under the shady tree and gleefully smiling and posing before him. He recalled having to call out her name so that she would look at the camera to take the photograph. He was eager to preserve everything about that day. Isaac looked closely at the photograph and spotted the dark presence behind the shadow of the tree. It was easy to miss the image of a small child peering from behind a thick bark of the towering tree; only on close inspection the dimmed presence could be spotted. Isaac was the only one who knew that both he and Irene were stalked that day.

He had been an elusive presence in their lives. Both he and his wife Anna were too occupied with the concerns to keep Irene happy and contend; there was no compulsion to understand why young Lucas should be included in their world. The boy was considered to be an uninvited guest who had overstayed his visit. He searched for dark corners and stark shadows from where he could observe Isaac's family without causing any hindrance.

All the dislodged regrets resurfaced with vengeance when Lucas was left in his care. It was difficult to overlook the broken relationships and the mayhem of lies and deceits which led to his birth and he hated the boy. Countless times Isaac pitied himself for having to see the boy grow under his care and when Irene was born there was a reason to whitewash the concern towards him. Lucas withstood the cold indifference and showed resilience against Isaac and his wife Mary's unsympathetic distance towards him. He did not pin for their affection and withdrew from sight on making a mistake that is because he read clues from an early age to signify he was alone and on his own. It was easy to ignore the boy's presence.

The rage of loosing Irene blinded Isaac beyond reasoning and in the dark wet night he forced Lucas to leave the house too. In cold blooded rage he dragged the boy out. It was unnerving the boy's memories gave him sleepless nights. Isaac was forced to open his eyes and sit up in bed to work out that the loathsome hate just sat on his chest like big hard lump of rubble. Far away from home he was able to retrace the origins of the dark rage which increased the ignorance of his own merits.

Lucas was made to leave and the stains of this misdemeanour were not easy to wash away. Suddenly everything in the room was swimming and Isaac's heart was throbbing wildly against the ribs. The doctor had warned him that even though he has given up drinking he will not be able to recover from the sudden palpitation of the heart. He had developed a chronic condition from an early age which occurs from frenzied mind forced to work hard in trying to separate intense emotions. The mental agitation makes the heart work more than usual and therefore it beats at a fast rate, sending the person in a dizzy state. Isaac felt it was futile to explain to the doctor that he knew exactly why his heart beats wildly. His soul chained to the old self suffered too much by not being able to take flight from the darkness he was forced to acknowledge.

It was clear Isaac willed to push Lucas in a deep well of darkness from where only the echo of silence can be heard. The fault made increased his mortification and he recalled Sophia's words. He recognized love when he saw her but returned to search for Lucas.

Isaac fell on his knees and did not care if the sound of his weeping stirred the night creatures of the woods. When the strength finally propelled him to get up he banged fists on the white marble mantle and did not mind the pain on the knuckles or the blue bruises forming on the skin.

The night was long and the desire to escape reality was too urgent. Isaac took off the sheet covering the brown damask sofa where he had spent countless moments rummaging through the broken strands of his emotions. The cold grey bricks of the room reaching the wooden roof gave no warmth. He was tired and thought little of any other concerns when he decided to rest his body on the sofa and very soon was oblivious of the sound of a the wind howling outside.

Isaac was stirred by his mobile ringing nearby. On the other end he heard the sound of Sophia's voice. She invited him over to her house to have dinner in the evening. After confirming to show up Isaac rubbed his eyes and saw that it was still early in the morning. The branches were swaying in the early morning breeze. The greyness of a cloudy sky dimmed the daylight. Isaac went through the events of last night in his mind and felt necessary to make amends in the way he was thinking. More than anything else he wanted to be on his own and work out how to make it known to Sophia what he knew. He anticipated that he cannot afford to waste the evening—he will have to explain to her everything he knew.

He dropped his head on the sofa. It was hard to keep himself from falling asleep again. He was burdened by deep regrets and knew he was standing near the deep dark well from where return is difficult. He saw the hallow rings around the well, the sound of the pebble dropping and causing the echo which was the saddest voice to hear in still emptiness. His struggles have to be great in order to walk away from the well.

When Isaac opened his eyes it was past midday. The moments, the travelling and the daunting discovery of how the town had changed all came across as a muddle in his head. Then he remembered the invite to the dinner and contemplated how best to span out the rest of his day. There were no arrangements for him to eat and drink so he decided to get ready and go to the square. He unpacked the clothes in the bag and selected a blue denim shirt to wear with the same chinos. The taps creaked and hissed out air but he was relieved to discover that water did gurgle and he hunched down in the sink to wash his face. The stained porcelain tub looked inviting and he filled it with water. It was refreshing to immerse in the cold water and for a while he forgot the unsolved matters of the heart and was transported to the calm lake where hurled pebbles create ripples. However the relief was temporary and Isaac could not shake off the urgent urge to each a safe shore from where someone was eager to hear him make a confession of his mistakes. He was eager to meet Sophia. The bath invigorated his sagging energy and he got dressed up very quickly.

In the crisp day air Isaac could smell the fragrance of the pines. On leaving the house he thought very little of closing the doors with a lock behind him. He recalled Abraham's obsession to close the doors long after the mafia ceased to exist. The members of the group lost the will to carry on fighting once the train tracks were left unused. Abraham guarded the house like a sentry, in the fear that an old renegade leader might enter it any moment given a chance. He was enticed into thinking that it was a good idea to desecrate any evidence that Abraham once owned everything that now stands abandoned and unused. He was transported to the times when he was younger and took long strides to march farthest away from the house that chained his soul. But now he liked everything around him. The dark woods, the crisp air and the route which haunted him in moments of solitude looked like the source littered with plenty of inspiration to write soul-reaching poetry. He was gifted enough to stir emotions and cause zeal to stir hearts and minds to seek freedom. When others forced him to descend in darkness he latched on to poetry—words gave him escape from perpetual downfall.

In the town he discovered a small café where he ordered coffee and cheese sandwich which the lady freshly preparing it in the back kitchen. He asked her if there was any place from where he can buy flowers. She pointed in the direction of a grocery store opposite the café. He thanked her for the food and settled down to eating his first meal after arrival in the town. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sandwich gave him momentum to plan his day ahead. He needed to buy food and basic provisions for his stay and probably work out where to buy home appliances and some clean bedding too. In his youth he spent many long hours waiting and aimlessly planning for future but nothing worked in long term and he only returned because there was a reason to do so. He thanked the lady and after receiving initial information on opening times for having breakfast and then made his way towards the store. He selected a bunch of pink roses to take with him to Sophia's house.

Sophia's flat was situated in a block not far from the square. It was a place demarcated by new houses and a neat hedge was used as a boundary to separate the area from the old neighbourhood where some many of the men he used to know who worked with him in cutting down trees used to live. On reaching Sophia's flat Isaac was greeted by her husband who opened the door. He took him to the balcony of the flat where Sophia was occupied with putting the plates on the round table covered with a spotless white tablecloth. She was wearing a red shift dress with deep round neckline. Her face glowed and looked supple when she came close to Isaac to kiss him on the cheek. He wished he had picked up the red carnations which would have complimented her dress even though she admired the pink roses.

It was getting close to dark when they sat down to eat. The sumptuously prepared dinner included roasted pepper salad, fish stew with rice. While the conversation drifted towards their association in younger days Isaac was comfortable to sit back and let the conversation roll on how Sophia ended up meeting Daniel. He noticed the rapport between them was spontaneous and he was glad to exert control over his mind's indulgence into fancifully believing that she had bargained her independence by choosing to get married.

They were engulfed in starless darkness and Isaac was amazed at everything around him. He failed to recall the last time he indulged himself in good conversation while having good food too. Some people walked in his life and some trespassed and left at their own time. Many times he found himself listening to the buzz of sounds in restaurants and bars while he swivelled the glass with icy cubes sipping soft drink or water. Eating with company was those rare pleasures of life that he could not acquire, even though he knew women who would have preferred to go out with him. Sophia's husband left soon after serving the orange soufflé on the pretext that he had to join his friends for a game of chess.

He was glad that Sophia was not hiding behind the placate exterior of a woman happy to resign in the comfort of her own world. Marriage had not changed her much. Left on their own they did not fumble for words to fill awkward silences. She went on about his love for writing and wanted to know what he been writing in England. Isaac carefully avoided talking about the book where he imagined Sophia as his girlfriend, but like her he was enthusiastic to voice the underpinned arguments which lead to creation of artistic expression. There was no knowing how the evening was to span out but he wanted to talk and lay bare the urge which prompts him to write. She would not curl up to him and demand that he take her to bed but he was not worried about missing out in experiencing the closeness of her body. Isaac did not take long to express his keenness to talk of what he had wanted to say.

'Most of the time a storyteller wants to say something that he can't say otherwise. Writing can only take place in isolation and it is easy to escape the many slings and arrows which can cripple a person's pride or wither away in resentment because the chance to whet anger has been taken away by simply writing stories that are woven from pure delight to hide away the real intentions to be a writer.

I fumbled to work out where did it all begin, but now I am clear and know what happened and how did I end up in a predicament that has compelled me to search an end to may story.

Man is enslaved to spiritual laws and for that he receives benefits of rewards and riches for his services. The successive generations in Abraham's family were tied to the legacy of serving the church by building churches. In due time there were no traces left of these churches and only their reputation survived. Abraham came to inherit the house which was ancient and old and merited for the family's reputation in the town of Fort Causeway.

When he inherited the lands and the house he was committed to maintain the traditional association only as a legacy and nothing more. The small church that once the family built stood in ruins. No weary traveller was to find respite by choosing to walk on the bleak path leading to the church which was once populated with the locals looking for a place to worship. With the passing of so many years the place lost its original appeal and a newer place of worship was build nearer the town.

Abraham never disguised his smug pride to be a landlord with titles that his clan inherited. In the olden times the family was considered equipped to settle matters of discord and acrimonious issues but that did not help them in mending years of scarred discontent brewing within their own brood. A world where love of Bible was supreme took over all other considerations and there was distrust towards outsiders who were not inclined to sympathize with the need to safeguard their possessions and position! There was a lingering fear that they were surrounded by rivals and though the town was the only familiar place for their survival the ones who were opportunity-grabbing individuals were not viewed as inclined to sympathize with the past. For a while Abraham was taken over by the stirring and rousing slogans of change and even opted to join a group of socialist thinkers but when it became apparent that the group was more inclined in profiting from grabbing lands he left the group. He was sure they were vindictive and did not forgive desertion and eyed the house to be turned to a symbol of liberation against tradition. Any lucrative deal to transform old buildings into tourist attractions was considered a move to desecrate the past and it was a conspiracy before Abraham to be ripped of all that reminded him who he was.

The hostile environment convinced Abraham that God will protect him. In the isolation of the dark woods Shadowmoore was a stone and mortar dwelling from where he ruled over those who were dependant on him. He raised his two boys to be truer in their conviction to follow what the Bible taught them to do. To show compassion was a weakness and not moral uprightness before him. He was not good at showing his affection to anyone and least of all to his sons, who grew up under the shadow of their domineering father, determined to never make a mention of their mother. Isaac took it upon himself to teach the boys about the dark and the good side of the soul. He made them read out passages from the Bible because memorizing the scriptures will leave behind imprints of the sacred word and they will never stoop low to be disobedient and sullen before God' authority. Abraham also warned them to be on guard against demons and monsters who live in the guise of ordinary souls trying to destroy all those who want to be loyal and selfless. In the dark evenings he sat by the fireplace to give lessons on man's existence entwined with duty and ownership. As the boys grew older they learned to absorb all that was taught by their father and their silent obedience assured Abraham that his sons will grow with rock solid conviction to follow in his taught ethics.

The life centred on day to day existence had little significance and Abraham failed to see the growth of the boys forming and developing them into separate beings. While Frederick was a staunch aspirer thirsty of worthier praises from his father for remembering the quotes from Bible, I inherited the dark and twisted cracks that made him fearful of everything around him. I was frightened of reproaching severe punishment for a slight misdemeanour and stifled my yawns while standing to read out loud before my father. Sometimes my mind drifted in the hope that there was a deep memory left inside to recollect a nurturing and comforting moment I had spent with my mother. We knew very little about our mother, except that she left us when were still too young to determine what it was to loose a parent forever. Abraham never disclosed the union that brought me to this world and my mind went in circles to search for answers.

By my eleventh year I was convinced a dark monster that gets inside others hearts also deviously devoured my mother. Strange voices started to plague me at night and made me believe that my father's reminders were to serve as warnings and I must guard myself against a monster that visits me in my dreams. The monster beckoned me to follow it in a dark forest. I was helpless against the monster's grotesque fearful ugliness and all I could do was detest the sight of the large red tongue of the monster flaying my cheek and the black tail thrashing noisily on the floor. When I took the courage to lift my head and stare straight ahead in the eyes of the monster shining like two balls of flame, my heart ripped apart. The visitation of such a dream left my heart pounding wildly against my ribs and my entire torso was swathed in sweat. In my cold dark room there was no one to console me and I wept myself to sleep. In the morning the build up of the fear from the dream did not leave me and I was sure the same monster followed me in the corridors and urged him to flee from the oppressive and cold walls of the house in order to feel secure. Our father was weary that his sons ventured to go outside or spend endless time in the town square. We were protected and shielded from all that put him to unease.

Nothing prepared me for the day when the monster unleashed grotesque powers to ensnare me for his own good. On a typical evening when me and Frederick were supposed to listen to our father speak loud of the devastation of sins, I found it difficult to concentrate at what was being said. I had earlier had a dream of the monster and was too petrified to imagine the house being rid of ugly monsters.

'The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge but fools despise wisdom and instruction...' Abraham's summed up analogy was meant to evoke courage in us because fear carried the potency to make us strong.

Once the Bible was closed Isaac had another way of testing his loyalty towards his authority. He offered his hand to be kissed by both the boys. While Frederick kneeled down and looked comfortable in kissing his father's hand, the same should have been said about me too. But I hesitated to come forward. The previous evening I had been humiliated and pulled by the back of my shirt almost in a fashion of being made to hang on a hook. I often stuttered and forgot the words of Bible and that must have triggered enough fear to invite the monster during sleep. I was sure a monster was luring me to lean down and kiss the large claw-like furry hand. The man before me was a wolfish fiend and I should never trust demons. I chose to run away. The childlike dependency on dreams compelled me to see strange creatures and Isaac was unaware about this condition. He could not believe that he saw his son reaching for the door. On number of occasions I was accused of possessing a weak heart and carried ill disposition towards learning sacred words. Isaac managed to grab me by the collar and shook my so hard that my teeth rattled and then struck me hard on the face. His hand accidentally landed on the mouth and I could sense the hotness and soreness of the blow. It was useless to contemplate what was to happen next.

'I will do as you want me to do, but don't hurt me,' I begged to be allowed to leave the dark and musty smelling room. It was ludicrous to cry so much and there was no mercy. In my mind our father was the monster. The cane that descended on my buttocks scraped the skin and I screamed countless times. There was too much pain to imagine that I will be free one day. In a flash of a moment darkness descended on me and I had to do something to stop the beatings. The teeth of the monster looked scary and I dug my teeth deep in the skin of Abraham's wrist. He had no choice but to withdraw. Without tolerating to turn around I ran out of the room. I could not bear to see the blazing rage my father's demeanour demonstrated. Time and again I tried to remain loyal to what had been taught and most of all I could never show any sign of fear before God. In Abraham's mind I had done the unthinkable by running away from him. He had no idea that I imagined him as the monster with flaying tongue and blazing balls of flames for eyes. I could not control my fear and it got the better of me that day.

I ran out in the woods covered with a powdery and dusty white snow. The wolves only hunt the ones they choose to rip apart. I heard their grunting and snarling voices of the wild dog as I contemplated how to scale a ridge that had appeared before me. When i turned around I faced the dogs drooling at the sight of easy meat before them. I had no choice but to try my luck in climbing down the ridge. However in that moment my foot slipped and I fell down but managed to hold on to the edge of the hard ground. I gathered that if I carried on holding long enough to sway their interest in ripping me, then it will be a good guise to carry on hanging on to the edge of the cliff. To my relief I saw Frederick emerge just above my head, standing few inches away from my fingers which were clawing at the tufts of grass. Frederick had thrown a rock at them and the scurried away in a panic.

'Pull me up Frederick.....' the compounded fear of what would become to me if the dogs managed to return did not erase from my mind.

'Why should I!' replied Frederick calmly.

I felt a crushing pain on my knuckles. Frederick had placed his hard boots on both my hands. The pain was unbearable and I had no choice but to loosen my grip. I grappled whatever I could hold on to—rocks, dead branches and twigs. Like a piece of weightless rock I trundled down.

That day I gathered the raw evidence of Frederick's annihilated hate towards me was real!

The choice I was given rested between being eaten alive by the dogs or falling over a cliff. No ounce of willpower was wasted in trying to reach the safe ground. I experienced unpardonable cruelty by the ones who should have helped him overcome barriers placed by fear. The scar on my forehead reminded me of what happened that day. I could not ignore the emotional surge of energy welling inside my heart to never forget what happened. I was bludgeoned by words and cold stares from my father; nothing ever convinced him that I should struggle enough to earn this admiration and I vowed to never relinquish fighting those who carried fiendish hearts.

Quarrels and petty feuds darken many hearts. Abraham was a weary to pander to indulge in transactions or build connections outside the boundaries of his inherited house. Feuds lasting many years turn to lengthy conflicts which scathe and scar the ones who do not want to get involved too. Abraham—they would say it in the square, was known to be a severe judge of people. He took comfort in the knowledge that he could reside within the walls of the castle littered with pricey relics, some showing religious affinity to God and were awarded for services to the holy institutions soldered to clothes.

He had stories to tell of deceased souls who committed mundane deeds but over a period were celebrated for other purposes. There was this merchant who bargained and haggled price for the harvest in the square in the olden times and it fetched good profit to him. He was pleased with the way he conducted his money transactions and fiercely contested any claims that he priced harshly. No debts remained unsettled before him and page by page he created list of those who owed him extra for the harvest he offered on certain days to claim what had to be given to him. Then one day a violent storms leashed out untold destruction and the harvest for that autumn was poor. It proved meaningless to that man to offer prayers of gratitude before the Lord who did not save them from this calamity. He was sure the monster giant had carried on stampeding for too long with the intention to wipe out their sustenance to survive in harsh times. Abraham lamented that this early ancestor lost all claim to the vast lands he owned. The destruction of his lands made him landowner of pest-ridden fields and a granary that only bore memories of the source of income slowly dwindled away. Poverty and frugality repulsed Abraham; their existence crept from sinful existence and laziness. He sat through the nights trying to work out the figures and to his disbelief discovered that not much had been accrued to weather through raging and unpredictable storms but he did not see himself spiralling down to his destruction like the ancestor who lost all lands.

I witnessed the gradual descend of my father's physical state. He could not escape the uncertainty accompanying the surge of harsh tidal waves. He had been shunned by his comrades who saw him stubbornly defying change to give up holding on to the past legacy. The helplessness was contagious and it brought along the sinking isolation inside me. I wanted to experience the warmth of being close to someone and became increasingly restless. The need to understand human warmth was the result of never knowing that love is a balm to soothe creeping regrets that life is too unbearable.

In such dire situations it was Mathew the servant who had a presence in the house simply because of goodness of nature. He understood the need to convince me that I was not a cause of mischief and distracted me when I faced humiliation from Abraham's authoritarian nature. My whimpering and moaning touched Mathew and he would take me to the workroom behind the house where he pounded with hammer pieces of metals to mend broken locks of the house. On some days he took me out to chop wood for fire. I was happy to follow him and hear him ramble and talk about village folks and their quarrels. My crumpled heart's creases eased in Mathew's company and I gathered dislike for the way Abraham treated the old man. I was grateful to Mathew for giving me escape from the stinging realization that I was not good enough to earn my father's praises.

Abraham thirsted to receive admiration for men about whom we knew nothing and who were long gone from this world. Countless ancestors were praised and hailed as best of men. Another ancestor was praised for attending communions and gatherings to settle disputes at an era when men were still inclined to dispose undiluted trust on men of religion. It grated Abraham's nerves that he was not favoured among the villagers anymore.

They all saw him a man different to what he was in the earlier days. When he stubbornly refused to obey the authorities he ignored by everyone. People walked passed him in the square and soon it was visible that his withdrawn and sunken eyes spoke of sleeplessness and drab clothes spoke of descend from better physical state. Often Abraham stormed out of a room; dark rage visible on his face. One day in a frenzied mad moment he took hold of records with facts and figures to do with land ownership and tossed everything on the ground to make a heap for fire. I knew that day that he was certainly spiralling down into a seemingly unhealthy state of mind—the appetite to express divine love in flowing tribute to God and Jesus somehow faded too.

It was mind numbing to watch a man disintegrate into a self-absorbed individual who rambled to himself stories about others. No one could see an alternative to what Abraham presented. But at least there was some refuge from this unhealthy state and I was glad to have it in my disposal. In the morning the morbid calm of the surroundings carried the sound of the pounding hammer and tongs working to mould and bend iron pieces. It sometimes stirred me from my slumber. No calls to hear the word of Bible followed throughout the day. Strange alienation from the word of God was a kind of relief because I discovered Mathew's reassuring presence. His rough hands throughout plied to keep the locks and handles of doors in the house firm and secure and it was comforting to rely on his presence and ignore the chaos of our own broken lives. The evenings were quiet and silent affairs where no one spoke to learn of what will tomorrow bring.

We all ate without letting a morsel of word pass through our mouths. Abraham tore the bread and slovenly licked his fingers not caring to wash hands in the tepid water; whereas before he was mindful of ritualistically following habits that made him visibly agreeable. He drank more than necessary to quieten the storms raging in his mind; once the satiation to drink ended the bottle was simply hurled at some corner. Abraham never expressed his innate feelings but somehow it was obvious that the disbelief was real that God should have protected them in the need of the hour.

The blanket of gloom did not affect Fredrick. His mental struggle to carry on taking his lessons seriously did not lessen. He worked day and night trying to grasp the definition of everything that was to make him knowledgeable and learned. I continued to harbour fear of wild and vivid monsters provoking me into thinking Abraham was under a spell that had turned him vastly grumpy and annoyed at everyone around him. The sleepless nights occurred from the fear that a snarling Abraham would pull me out of the bed and make me bend on the knees to be canned. The sweat at night was real; too real. When the monsters went on to bite, snarl and mock me and I took escape by entering lands where the skies mirrored the colours of rainbow arch, the trees were laden with jewelled fruits and every opportunity to live there was a step ahead to lead a life filled with riches. I latched on to the ideas that lands laden with fortunes existed and happiness descends when man is rewarded for carrying out hard work.

I preferred to search for the answers by walking in the woods; maybe hidden paths and behind bushes and branches there are sacred clues about real purpose of suffering. Mathew taught me to be patient and appreciative in seeing how nature superseded adversaries. There was something to gain from understanding why a wren's efforts to build a nest should take her to trees; why a beetle rolling a berry to save itself from starvation never gave in when it appeared too cumbersome to drag something that was way heavier than its own weight; why the bee earnestly sucked the nectar from the wild flowers too flimsy to hold on the weights of its winged body. These answers fell short when I recognized my own yearning to hear a voice, a message or a reminder and wonderment often led me to return to Mathew who knew enough about wild nature and the ingenuity of skills to make useful objects. The pointed spears he carved from chiselling the barks to make a fence; the metal bolts and joints he mended inspired me to learn the same skills. The hard toughness to moulds a man's nature was far satisfying way to ignore the slings and arrows around me. 'Failure is a brutal teacher. But you do learn to find the right way by never giving up,' Mathew's conclusions became scriptural truths for my soul.

Why worry about disappointments and successes—I wanted to remain indifferent to Frederick who had waded far too deep in the ocean filled with turbulent waves and currents. The rage that made Frederick pesky also made him determined to earn praise and recognition for his abilities to stand out. He wanted to live up to Abraham's ways and thrive to earn some mark of appreciation for his efforts. He kept his observations close to his heart even though the occasional show of sparks which were visible sign of his own brewing frustration did show. In contrast I was not duty bound to do everything the way preached.

No sooner had we settled down to stoic acceptance that life was never going to be the same the creeping doubts and fears ruptured my soul again. I doubted the call of submission before everything around me but Frederick chose to follow it. On chilly autumn evening I entered the forage and was amused to see Mathew darning a broken chain. The floor was littered with mess of tools and scrap pieces of acrid iron and rusty pastes. There was plenty to do. I caught sight of a long nail and mind lurched to use it. The slab of wood before looked tempting and my hand fervently worked to etch a single line with the pointed nail. Slowly the line curved to form an oblong head and then the horns—gaps for eyes, fangs and a tongue hanging out from a grotesque mouth. The hideousness of the creature carved out of rage—precision in creating matched by pleasure to see the drawing taking shape on the soft slab of wood made Isaac happy. I carried on working and the carving turned to a work to be admired. The monster of the dreams and the one who sprayed his venom on Abraham now came to life. My absorption in carving failed me into noticing the creeping shadow of Abraham emerging from behind. 'It fills me with disgust to see you destroy what I set about building. But then nothing stirs me about you. You are not destined to rise above the traits you have of creating useless objects and that will finish off everything you will inherit from me!' the slap which followed was sudden and hard. The sting of the physical smack lasted forever.

Abraham turned to Mathew and admonished him too. 'For all my goodness you end up betraying me. I turn my back to recover from my losses and you mislead my son into believing a sinned existence is better than God's worship! Don't forget Mathew, I saved you!'

It was visible that Mathew looked pale from the severity of the spoken words and harbouring shock from the sudden humiliation l hoped that he would speak in his own defence. The rage throbbed inside me when I saw old Mathew humbly take the blame, 'I am strong only in show of physical strength and the intentions never crossed my mind to be ungrateful to you.' A stale smell of past lingered between them. They had gone through disfiguring transformation and it was too unpleasant to recall again.

Still there was no pardon from Abraham and he said severely, 'I have levelled my forgiveness with your ordinariness, but don't wreck my castle. You may see it as a hovel I don't admire its desolation because that is its original grandeur. My insanity grows from the betrayal I face from everyone around me. So if you have the conscious to repay in gratitude, do not go about dismantling my world!'

He left the room, his hard boots crunching the wood that was play material for me before he had arrived. No sooner he left Frederick emerged in the room. A sharp glint in his eyes was easy to detect. 'You are a waster using objects to vile away time, Isaac—not an obedient son!' he contemptuously stared at the carved image of the monster lying on the floor—the edges of his long brown coat brushing the raw wooden scratches, 'A weird creature possessed by evil spirits suffers...' the verdict he gave was too ominous as I had still not recovered from the sting of the slap.

It was clear to that once Frederick rose to the opportunity to assist only Abraham. Always reading Bible, always swinging his crossbow to sharpen the agility to hurl the arrow! He justified his contempt against his younger brother because he chose to carve wild and devilish creatures on the wood----it was not a way to measure courage and integrity. The determination to somehow be the shadow of what Abraham was, had now wedged deep inside his soul.

Every show of condemnation for unsparingly curious spirit made him weary of the need to search for God. There was no escape from the irreparable harshness diminishing the willpower to reach for the light. Flight from dull existence, that's all it was. I needed a reason to walk away from the village—till then I resolved to stay content to live and breathe without falling over! The passage of time brought little relief from emotions that made me question unyielding authority around me.

Time has a way of changing our perceptions and soon I was old enough to find enormous rush of physical energy to lift boulders, heave heavy objects, pull out stubborn weeds from the land and make an untamed horse obedient to drive in the direction I chose to do so. Working with bare hands gave me plenty of satisfaction. With Mathew's help I went about working to salvage the lands and remove it from pest and weeds surrounding the house. A period of heavy rainfall brought havoc which saw many trees falling over. It became necessary to stop the soil erosion which was making the roots of the trees weak. This turned to an opportunity and both of us found a reason to stay outdoors and plant various shrubs and long stem plants. Mathew taught me how to haggle in the markets and search for willing men eager to take notice of the skills I possessed. Working with bare hands did not give any sublime and spiritual thoughts but I was satisfied to work for others and earn my wages felling trees, preparing soil for plantation.

When Frederick announced he was leaving to join a university it was expected to be so. He had honed his intelligence to reap the rewards by taking the cause to mend and make amends in others lives and to prove he was a man worthy of everyone else's praise. On the day he was to leave Abraham dragged his bent body to bid Frederick farewell and to give him reminder that he had a mission to fulfil. 'Wheels of change have been set in motion!' he predicted that there were feats and battles to win and opportunities will be there before Frederick. He will experience release from perpetual gloom surrounding them from his own efforts.

Seeing Frederick giving his final wave to all of us gave me hope that I would behind me the rotten rivalry we both shared. But it did not happen—not when the sky thundered and the best hope was to save myself from the bolt of lightening scorching the tree; not when rum entered the gullet and spread heat that fired the insides; not when I wanted someone to enter my soul and fill the hollowness. His presence could be felt around the house. Frederick had gone away but Abraham rambled to everyone that great things will happen in the future—especially when Frederick will return.

It brought bitterness to learn that I was not free from Frederick's shadowy presence. A word, comment or a mocking question was unbearable and pardon did not come easily because I fought back and I developed a reputation. They all agreed I was not the son Abraham wanted! Sometimes absolute and final darkness came and wiped out reasoning and sense to respond logically. A recurrent thought suddenly sliced me while I was occupied in carrying out a task and I searched for a spot or a place where it was easy to forget the pressing guilt and regret that I was not required to make a difference. I looked at the sky and tried to spot if the winds of change had made their way and enticed me enough to go away but I continued to stay with Abraham for other reasons. Even though he never showed the slightest affection the significance of holding on to what was by birth right my own was not lost on me. Receiving something from inheritance was a privilege I was not going to let go that easily. The oft repeated stories by Abraham slowly permeated my soul and made me ever needy to grab something tangible from the past and make it mine.

The nights and days bathed in rain showers did not end the turmoil—it was hard to overlook the brittle and stale memories of yesteryears and I demonstrated it with a bad-tempered contempt. On a damp cold evening Abraham sat hunched over a book of sermons and Mathew was smoking his pipe before the hearth. It all came back; the scar I carried on the forehead was a reminder I once carved a monster with a nail on a slab of wood and fell over when Abraham chose to shove him after finding out he was carving a monster. The wound from the nail which had made a hole in my forehead was deep. For a split moment I became blind with rage and the fear and loathing increased the damning force to hurt Abraham. My manhood willed me to seek to destroy everything that stood in my way and the rum bottle which I was holding shattered in my grip. If it was only blood dripping on the shards of green glass I would have pardoned Abraham because it was few moments of madness that came over me. The truth is Abraham could do very little after his weak state. I grabbed his wrinkly neck and squeezed it. It did not repulse me at all to see his hands trembling and eyes bulging in amazement and shock over what was happening.

'Nothing that God and Satan would inflict is worse than what you did,' I said without lessening the strength of the strong grip. 'Your own will did it! Your destruction is your own doing....'

'What has come over you!' remarked Mathew as he tried to push me away. 'You are close to killing him.....break free now.'

The struggle went on for a while. Abraham's legs and arms were shaking violently. I recalled the snarling dogs barking at me after I escaped cruelty in Abraham's hands! That was a hard and unflinching moment and I was not pardoned by Frederick either. The same Frederick who had been hailed a hero on returning home! But then the diminishing anguish of failing to secure the warmth and comfort to muffle the raw and hard edges of a barren life distracted me and I eased the grip on Abraham's neck.

'Can you give moral justification for what you did?' asked Mathew.

I stared at Mathew overcome by the intensity of my own rage. Pounding energy throbbing through the veins of my arms made me sweaty. I was hurting inside and saw the evidence that I was now a young man towering above gentle Mathew's shoulders and twitched too much from the build-up of emotional intensity.

I ignored Abraham's frothy mouth babbling words and using his knotty fingers to massage the neck that showed red marks of his own hand prints and said to Mathew, 'The rage keeps coming back. I can't save myself,' I admitted the turmoil did not stop there, 'Let him flavour the pain I have inherited,' I was too was eager to show contempt for my own father.

Having taken the slight from both men I left the room to recover the shock admittance of my own chronic suffering. The will to escape forced me to leave the house. Outside in the chill air the still night was woken by my footsteps; the lone owl's cry beckoned the late hour. The long treads stirred the night creatures—a man reeling from sinister anger had turned to a monster. A tomorrow arrives but the hope does little to end the prolonged stay in a world that never wants to understand suffering. I made out the dark shades of the trees around me. The hate I carried for Abraham was not visible in the inky darkness and neither were the stale stains of old pride which muffled the voice inside my head making think that I needed to make a difference. I did hope that distances will bring separation from Frederick. My hand reached for the knife which I carried inside my pocket. The tree cried and screamed from the gashes the sharp blade of knife created. There was relief to see the hard bark splitting and carved from the knife.

Pain is terminal if forgiveness is not easy. I was not mindful of who came before me when violent rage compelled me to hurt someone or destroy an object lying before me. How frantically everyone saw the contrast between Abraham's sons was only too visible when Frederick returned home. He arrived unannounced and stirred a commotion. Old Abraham was not mindful if he was near to falling over in rushing down the spiral staircase. The heavy doors of the house were thrown open with an eagerness to embrace the return of a monarch from a battle front! The mellowed evening sun hidden behind the clouds softened the light falling on the fragrant, innocent late summer perennials. Abraham lifted his head slightly to see Frederick walking down in his dark clothes under the metal armour.

'Dear father, I have returned home from a long journey' said Frederick.

A faded smile spread across Abraham's dry face when he heard his son greet him with strong conviction to prove his merit and he answered, 'You have pleased me and you will go far...'

Behind the shadows of the late evening I emerged as a brooding shadow to cast darkness every where. I wanted to disappear but the disappearing was taking too long. In a fairly distinctive way Frederick showed comradeship and brotherly affection towards me. He embraced me and then said, 'May God forgive our sins and implant in our souls kindred spirits.' He said words to make us brothers at last!

'Lot has changed since you left but why bring wreckage from the past?' I responded without flinching from my position of suspecting his outward acknowledgment of our relation.

I studied Frederick's composure. He was honed to be approachable and win over others. Probably that made it easy for him to banish the recollection of the pain of old wounds.

He had acquired surge of confidence which assured him upward mobility just by assuming his opinions mattered. 'I will work along with you to reduce our father's suffering and give him relief in old age.'

The last sentence was too much and I sharply responded, 'Your journey has just begun, whereas mine started long time ago. I have always tried to rebuild the broken walls that crumbled from neglect and by doing that I have carried my duties to keep everything going.'

The raw and blunt answer took Frederick by surprise and yet he astutely continued to show he was caring. 'I have learned a lot during my time spent in the world where cynicism thrives but I focus on myself and what I am good at doing. Our dear father suffered in the hands of those who wronged him and many were deceived into thinking he was responsible for some of the bad decisions and judgements. But I am now here and I will carry out missions where verdicts will make a difference.' The voice nurtured to speak before gatherings and in places where company demands to notice others sounded mature.

'We have different ways to prove our worth,' I stuck to my conviction because I suspected that Frederick has returned to be essentially the same man but in a different guise.

It was time take my farewell from the three men. I knew escape from the burden of passing my days without ever learning to spill the rage that resurface and blinds me towards everyone will be a hard struggle.

~

The soggy land surrounding the cottage had footprints. Heavy ones....My restless soul urged me to walk through the half ajar door and my eyes roamed in search of a young woman. The cackling noises emitting from the barn behind the cottage gave me premonition I should go and look for her there.

Katherine stood surrounded by hens who spread their wings in a mad dash to avoid her while every effort was carried out to pick the eggs lying in the mess of hay. I stood looking at her not knowing if she would want to be alerted of my intrusion. Her red ginger hair loosely tied gathered the little specks of dry hay—the simple untamed appearance marked increased her beauty and I wanted to hold her hand and feel the softness of the fingers busy at work. When she was aware of my presence it caused her to be surprised. In that moment she gave a cry of fright and dropped the basket that contained the eggs. What a mess it was! All gooey yellowy liquid splattered around her scruffy brown shoes. 'You frightened me?' she rested her hand on her chest, probably worried the violent beating heart would pounce out. Before her stood a flustered man struggling to ignore the passion in his heart. Katherine's last hour's hard work lay in a mess before her and she pleased me for just standing there and taking notice of me.

'I can't bare myself to be away from you,' I remarked. It was true that Katherine's loveliness and youthful charms were a source of comfort in time of confusion.

'I will not want you to retrace your steps and leave,' her eyes widened with astonishment and bewilderment held a strong sway and made me too keen to be with her.

'Save me from drowning Katherine. Rescue me from the circles of dark waters constantly surrounding me,' I was sure my despair found a remedy and walked towards her.

My hands reached out to hold her tiny waist. Like heated honey pouring down a vessel a surge of energy entered my veins. It was not long before I reached out for her mouth—the taste of her lips sending warm ripples across my body. A deep and possessive kiss can bring you close to the heavens. It was the weight of the old collected grief that had to go away and I wanted to hold on to her.

We went outside preferring to walk under the vast openness of the windy skies. She was next to me and I could lean on her. Why, that was pure joy!

A sudden and unexpected death brought Katherine and me together. Mathew coughed too much blood and no one predicted his end. He was found dead while working in the fields. I never discovered much about him and his cottage was not ever transgressed either. Mathew's presence was a great source of help and he left me reeling in anger that my chores had multiplied. With brutish stubbornness I ignored my failure to carry on my own and was content to struggle alone too. Worsened from fatigue and over-worked made me callous and rough towards many who came in my way. The ridges on the route to the fields witnessed a tiresome young man dragging carts laden with sacks. There was no reason to admire the beauty of nature or reflect with thanksgiving emotional prayer for having abundant resources to live without fear of hunger or poverty.

The dank and green woods transported me to a different world. The tranquillity of the silent trees once gave me relief but now they were not admired at all. In the months following the spring weather I walked almost daily to the square just so that I could get an opportunity to work. The embittered peskiness was overcome by the realization that if I was lucky I will bring back wages to prop my savings. Curses flew from my mouth when worries compounded on my mind and I hated to return to Shadowmoore with very little profit swelling my hidden savings. On one such self-absorbed day I found no inclination to offer greetings to two young girls. Katherine and Mary they were. Their giggles and amiable chat was cause of collision on the uneven ground. I had clearly not marked their presence and collided with Katherine who was walking backwards not aware that her friend's gawping stare was a signal that she was soon going to bump next to a man. The basket Katherine carried had long stems of lavender flowers and blood berries. Katherine looked frightened as she tumbled on the moss covered ground. I wondered if my actions caused her any injury and instantly offered her my hand to pull her up. In response she conveyed to me that she was okay if only bit shocked at the way she had experienced falling over. We both had no idea how to ascertain the reasons for our presence and she was the first one to speak, 'My late father worked in that house and introduced me to this path. It is too inviting in this time of the year, when fresh blooms are scattered in the earth.....' The prolonged silence which ensued between us unnerved her; she belonged to Mathew and I did not know what to say. His daughter looked vulnerable and in that her loveliness increased. I could see her as the visual image of her father—the soft brown eyes carried an image of Mathew but in all other ways nature borrowed gentleness that melts heart roughened and disappointed from so many fears. 'Mathew never told me about you.' I responded making it known to her the connection between Mathew. 'I bid you to leave at your own will,' and allowed her to be a permanent presence in the woods which I took it as undeclared territory familiar only to me and no other person.

For the first time I discovered the possessive unruliness that made me want more of what I desired. The night was unbearable; the sudden encounter made me far too keen to be with her. She was fresh and lovely without knowing it and that made all the difference. Later on she did not offend my advances and the time we spent together was our own hidden longing to be happy. I revoked derision and she was one person who saw little in me to be offended by my presence; I could not ask for more.

The disruptions came in most certain terms. The stings and the cuts covered from the single epitome of hope that if i will toil to build a life from my own hands and receive my own reward now proved insufficient in finding peace of mind. The influence that Frederick carried with him slowly worked in his favour—everyone admired him. He left university without completing his course in engineering and entered the turbulent and risky world of film making. Surprisingly his only real break came when he made a documentary about the ruinous church in the little known town of Fort Causeway. It proved useful for raising the profile of the town. With his altruistic charms he entered town premises and inspired others to believe that he was an example of loyalty before them. Everyone wanted to hear what he had to say and he had many anecdotes to tell others. His opinions encouraged the perception he was well versed in his subject matter and that was indeed a noble endeavour. Tide eventually turned in Frederick's favour and they all saw him a saviour set to rekindle genuine belief in bringing people together. In small towns you want someone to look up to and Frederick had filled that role.

We can never predict what happens when we want everything to go along our ways and the hand of fate allowed Katherine to go along with the Vincent family to a gathering to commemorate the celebrations of spring. Frederick was about to speak to the people who had gathered to listen to him. The old Vincent accompanied by his wife and ten year old son Justine and young sister Mary were onlookers to the festive street celebrations. Vincent warmly embraced Frederick's return and refrained from stirring the old resentment which had soured the relationship between Vincent and Abraham clans. On every occasion Vincent appeared in the square Frederick chose to greet him in most benign way. It could have been from the simple goodness of Frederick's heart that he chose to greet Vincent in a way as to show his respect for the man. Actions like these gloss our motives. On this significant day the soft malleable heart of Katherine stirred by the regret of not ever being able to see Mathew latched on to the charms Frederick showed. Her Innocent ways convinced her she was meant to suffer and that life will be better she will be fulfilling some other good cause. At the end of the day Katherine could not help but convey the purest gratitude to hear Frederick admonish grief as a useless endeavour. She talked about bleeding inwardly from the little regrets of not being able to see her deceased parents anymore. She was convinced that a weak heart is full of compassion which enters the heart from suffering for the right reasons. I did not believe in making a safe passage from an outer source by staying loyal to religion and remained sceptical of investing too much trust in divinity. Frederick was good at trying to respond in a way as to reconfirm his confidence in the way he carried himself. She later told me that he supported her belief in suffering to achieve fulfilment. He reminded her that 'To suffer alone means nothing. We are enjoined in spirit and all must support those who are going through a troubled period.'

I could picture Katherine offering a humble bow and then dispersing from there in the blind assurance that she had been saved by a man who was admired for his knowledgeable exterior. Nothing made her aware that this unexpected exchange of dictum was closely watched by Mary and she was uncomfortable about the whole thing. Her friend chose to tread extremely rarely; making sure that she had the strings to pull before making a move. That meeting changed the destiny of all of them!

I sought release from my own troubles by relying on Katherine's company. She did not wrestle against my strength and comfortingly desired to have my arms wrapped around her waist. 'We both willed this state of madness,' I reminded her of the promises we made; I thirsted for the pure delight dripping from her body and willed her to promise me that she will be there for me. 'If this is madness I am not frightened to say possess me,' Katherine's response in true and honest terms made me believe in her. She was happy and that made the difference. We delighted to discover that our actions provided release to our sordid and miserable existence. Our love unleashed something deep and primitive inside our souls.

Years and months later when loneliness overtook me and I had plenty of time to sit and ponder in damp cabins, I often wondered if she was reminded about the 'beautiful token of love,' as a gift from heavens by someone who sought to share sublime facts as if they were real gems to give away. On one breezy evening she would not stop talking—it appeared as if she had discovered a reason to express why she must nurture attachments in the most sublime way possible and someone was guiding her to take that lead. The sudden change in her mindset did not appear strange and I was content to discover her thinking in a learned way and taking the experience of falling in love seriously. She was sure that love was sublime and I was confident we were meant to be together and in that we explored ways to delight each other. There was a way to wash away the sadness that had crept in our souls and we were meant to be together!

There was something going on and I was not privy of the hidden motives. I only saw before me the possibility of happiness and Katherine acted like a diminutive bird. She often hid away from conversing and much preferred to busy herself in mulling strands of untraceable thoughts. She shied from ever revealing too much of what went in her head. After Mathew's death she relied on her friend Mary's company. While there was every need present to make the lonely girl feel needed, Mary perniciously warned her to be distrusting of everyone but her. 'Share your inner most thoughts with the ones you trust most and banish others.' This reassurance from Mary worked in comforting Katherine and she looked for answers from her friend who appeared domineering and worldly wise. Trust never came easily to Mary and she let Katherine know that it was not sensible to parry too far from the norm and not be able to understand that others are civil in matter of duty and seek no lasting connection. Mary appeared far too advanced in matters of judging human nature and it was easy to spot this. I reckoned Mary must have expressed her disapproval of the show of strong emotional lingering sorrow to Frederick and Katherine must have disagreed in strong terms. Her insistence on being genuine always sounded needy. I can picture her pleading that 'It was only to let him know his words had an awakening in my heart,' before Mary, who in the guise of a good friend sent warnings to her to be careful. For Katherine strong emotions attached to her deceased father came with the motive to imagine he returned to this earth to learn of what she said about him.

We continued to see each other. Our relationship was our little secret. Katherine revived my sagging confidence to weather storms of indifference, scorns and disapproval. I extracted the marrow of her alluring loveliness in the hope that i left a deep sinking thought the world was dreadful and barren but I loved her. We spent nights without a care of what tomorrow would bring. Before the early rays of sunshine we emerged stronger and full of hope for better times. Drained from allowing me to enter her body, spirit, and thoughts, Katherine objected to the idea that very soon I will get up and leave her alone in the bed. I was too scared to loose her and was also anxious that she would discover my coarseness and weakness and will start hating me.

On certain nights I appeared as an epitome of grotesque hunched creature brooding bland emotions resulting from the banality which reduces passions and desires. My presence cast dark shadows on the walls of her bedroom and I begged to be released of the pent up guilt that I was too undeserving of the pure love. When I left the cottage and descended down the hill everything around me looked achingly dull. I passed by the bleak tree standing aloof on the empty green vastness spreading its dark branches and recalled the sensation of my naked body entwined with Katherine's body. No bird could be spotted perched on the branches of this lonely tree—even the midnight raven flew away. I was ominous too.

When I returned to the woods my nerves were calmer. The house was my abode but I could also return to Katherine and acquire great delight. I stood still and waited a presence to stir the eerie silence in the corridor. But slowly I distinguished a faint rumbling cry of a man asking for help. It belonged to Abraham. His voice could be heard in the cellar. I hurriedly ran down the steps and reached the spot where I saw him lying under the rubble of bricks and mortar. It appeared that a vault had collapsed on him. 'Pull me out of here!' he cried more out of fear than in agony. I quickly moved the bricks on the side. He was in too much pain and could not explain where he was hurt the most. I carried him up stairs. A trickle of blood flowed from the nose and a bruise was forming on the forehead. I promised to return after bringing over the doctor, but Abraham clung to my hand fearing I would abandon him. I came back after bringing the village doctor who instantly went about trying his best to secure the broken ribs and fractured knee against Abraham's loud moaning. In the days following the incident Abraham moaned that his condition was not going to improve. The doctor gave whatever was needed to ease the condition but his brittle bones were too difficult to mend, the best had been done. Bit by bit flow of energy escaped his frail body. It was clear that his health was deteriorating fast and he was going to succumb to his worsening condition unless a heavy dosage to relieve of the pain was administered to him.

I was faced with a dire situation to bridge our differences although it felt needless to repair the broken strands now. I could not bring myself to pass the days to sit next to Abraham but going away was difficult too. I wished to have an escape from the despair which builds from remembering what could not be repaired. Time had passed and concerns change too. For Frederick Abraham's misery was not a difficult state to put up with and he knew how to praise hardship.

He came on the following week and inspected Abraham like a physician consultant except he had no authority to give the opinions. 'All respect to our father who gave us so much courage to face the hardship of this world!' the emotionless summarizing from Frederick went on to convince me that he had not analyzed emptiness which came in our lives from Abraham's cold indifference.

'We lived a lie. Our father's severity so ruined and mutilated our childhood that it is sickening and frightening to think about it. Remember the horror and disgust we felt when father threw a tantrum on finding out that we could not remember the commandments or the passages of Bible and cursed our deceased mother,' I admonished the perceived idea that we were indeed solid men with sound upbringing.

Frederick's haughty disregard showed through his dysfunctional memories, 'When they see us in the image of our father they look at us with emotion and envy our parents. Pity that you feel like a convict,' He would glance at my grubby state taking into account the shapeless clothes dabbed with mud and rough hands spoke of doing the gritty labour work. My thick mop of coarse black hair falling on forehead did nothing to hide away the cut I so hated. He did not expel the contempt he collected from my outlook but I was aware he looked down at my physical state.

The day arrived sooner then I would have expected and we confronted each other as rivals in the town. Frederick chose to stand near the pickup truck just as I was about to get on it and said, 'Remember Isaac our sins have a future!'

Puzzled by the strange comment, I responded in complete denial of what was being said, 'Your intentions to say truth-searching words are beyond my understanding.'

A cold and calculated premonition came from his answer, 'The sudden outbursts of anger, rage and temptations you are displaying in secrecy will not do you any good.' His taught face twitched slightly but his stiffness showed through in his posture that something was not going on right.

I chewed the underlying inquisitiveness from Frederick which appeared as interference and only imagined him tormented from lack of nourishment that is a sign of having no care to understand the intricacies of human failings. I could gather nothing from what had been said except that a stale lingering omen spoke of a happening that had earned Frederick's disapproval.

I returned to my hovel, made mental notes on how best to care for Abraham so that he would scream less when in pain and continued to build a life for the want of carrying on doing tasks and taking little notice of the real reasons to follow the call of my own longings. Love should have the ability to melt and fade away for greater acceptance. No beautiful chapters or loose pages left to weep marked the end of Abraham. He gave up the struggle to live by slowly succumbing to wanting release from the life that now connived to make him realize that he was lonely and unloved.

It was only on the last day his old stubbornness resurfaced—he wanted to speak and be heard. He looked the epitome of a sad man who feared not knowing which route to travel and summoned me to hear him speak, 'With the aid of the unused breaths left in my lungs it is better I depart soon. Take all that I leave behind; this house and the woods too! I doubted your capabilities and Lord opened my eyes—your sacrifice was greater than mine.' His eyes searched for the last ray of clemency and I found no reason to withdraw and answered, 'you thirst for a purpose to dig out and carve a meaningful existence. I regret parting with all my savings which mounted to a significant amount but I gave it to Frederick in the knowledge he would use it wisely. He has squandered his talents for release and easy escape from hardships in life. He acted like his father who never tasted life, only preferring to live with dead ghosts.....it is yours now, Isaac,' his fingers gripped my hand felt weak while his eyes were still open. He left all that he cherished in one breath.

Abraham's spoken words were heard by Frederick too. He stood behind the half opened door of the bedroom and purposefully hid his presence. He lost his chance to bid a final farewell but was not hard to decipher that Abraham's regrets turned to a seared blow and he left without ever saying a word. The view of a silent man walking in haste from the window offered little comfort to my perturbed mind. To discover that Frederick had a motive to borrow huge amounts of money which rested heavily on Abraham's conscience did not bode well. Abraham's frugal nature made him too wary of what savings he had stashed away. Unlike me he neatly stored away his money in accounts and yearly met his lawyer to determine how much money he can take out for his expenditures. He was tight fisted about everything until Frederick returned who convinced Abraham to part with his money, but for what pressing need the demand was made did not become clear.

The burial rights were given as the final farewell. No word passed on the outpour of marked grief in the church. Once they brought the coffin outside there was urgency in the way Frederick walked away from the burial sight. I stood before the fresh mound of earth and observed him leaving in hurry. Why the quiet hatred did not leave him, there were no clues to pick.

I was tired of pretending too. I returned to my own world. My savings gave me relief from the fear that I will succumb to the ghosts who resided in the house. There was always enough to put aside to escape this place and seek fortune somewhere else. The coming years taught me what works and what does not work. I rejoiced my own success by weighing my money stashed in a pouch hidden away in a concealed safe behind a bookshelf. I analyzed what Abraham had said to me and somehow drew the comfort against anger rising from rejection that I have been given the house as mine to keep. That single idea germinated in the urge to search for work and forge deals. I could no longer hide behind my unresolved hate and it was useful to be a man of some standing. The house had a hidden treasure. Old memories hung in the air. But hidden inside a wall was my hard earned booty and I wanted to acquire more of it.

It did not take long to unwind the reason why Frederick took Abraham's money. He had gambled far too much and squandered whatever Abraham loaned him to earn a bigger stage. The old church was more than just a blip to offer inspiration. Frederick had shares in a company that was looking for viable options to make tourists sights. The church's old exterior was significantly stunning representation of dated architecture which can be converted to a state of the art holiday resort. There were good prospects to clear the land surrounding the church to construct a three storey hotel. All this was hype to bring over friends and potential conservators to work on saving the church from ruin was a façade that covered the underlying truth to grab what was heritage and turn it to personal gain.

You were different from many other women I had met. The intention to confront Fredererick for some answers led me to come on the day you travelled to the town on Frederick's invitation. The moment stayed with me and no part of the memories fragmented into a blurry haze. You were introduced by Frederick as someone he blindly trusted and yet it was difficult for me to believe that. I saw you leaning on his shoulder, smiling at every sentence he uttered and kissing him passionately on the lips. I was intrigued to learn what made you fall for someone like Frederick who collected people around him with the intention to be praised and worshipped for what he was. It would be fair to say I envied Frederick for having you near him and in that moment forgot to expect answers from him. The bizarrely themed night to commemorate the making of the documentary about the church sounded like a total waste of time. When the fireworks started I could not keep my eyes off you. It was fortunate that you were intending to stay there for longer duration. The passion you showed in preserving the stained window made it all the more reason to understand your reliance on Frederick. You were saving something but you were also attached to him.

In the coming days I could sense you distrusted me because I knew more about you than you knew about me. I was not trespassing between you and Frederick even though it looked like so. I made my own endings in the stories I wrote and poems I created. You were enamoured by Frederick and your free-spirited nature drew you to him and your urges were visibly clear. I partly wanted you to know every reason there was to distrust Frederick but in the early days stopped from doing so because that would have made me look like a trespasser.

I concluded that Frederick with his social charms was a finer character whereas I was a pariah who had coarse manners and remained less tolerant towards others. A mixture of suspicion and contempt followed my self-made assertion. Some believed miscalculated success should not have taken place soon after a father's death. I brazenly wasted my money on drinks and staging my rowdiness by openly saying out loud my poetry and opinions, most of which showed my political views expressing disdain towards those who suppress freedom of all sorts. My expression showed it visibly that I would not take it lightly against ridicule or questions. Dark revulsion hurled at me was avenged by violence. Drunken men and their rage gathered from loose tongues exposed to me what people thought about me and I did not care even though I showed rage.

I chose to replenish my surroundings with amenities to increase my longing to ignore the festering decay covered in layer of dust and moth-ridden cobwebs. In the evening there was food aplenty to cater for the feast of ten men—no sound of admonishment was heard to shake my bones or make me hate my existence. I could drink endless amount of alcohol near burning candles. However it was not enough. The leak from the deep hole that had been growing ever deeper still could not be filled and the finest refreshments were too meagre to help me overcome the damage. I stared at loneliness and recognized my longing for Katherine. She was the candle that gave off too much glow. My heart was with her. The discovery compelled me to once again traverse to reach her cottage.

When loneliness unnerved me I returned to Kathrine. She was alone in the cottage whe I chose to visit her. Under the dim glare of the bulb dangling above her head Katherine looked lost and serene at the same time. I apologized for taking too long to come there and reached out to take her hand and said, 'If everything perishes, my love for you will not die. I love you more in a single day than thousand lovers assertion of devotion in a year.' But strangely Katherine appeared unmoved by my assertions and I carried on rambling. She hesitated to smile in an encouraging way and I took that as a hint that she wanted to just sit and talk. We exchanged little that day and before everything I said Katherine interrupted with short, sharp comments which showed that something was going on in her mind but she did not want to share it. I bid her farewell and left. After two days I returned to her again. We went for a walk like we used to do except that it was bitterly cold and she was the one who insisted on going out. The cold air was too harsh and her face was flushed from walking too fast. I could not keep pace with her and wondered what on earth moved her to create strange distance between me and herself. 'Why do you grow distant and move away from me that it bothers me?' my growing anguish poured out in gush of affirmations as I stopped and chose to stare straight in her eyes. She was still the same person who had revived me against my own sagging ego.

'If love is blessed it finds its way in our hearts. Why I cannot be convinced enough that when you convey me your undying affection I should feel safe and my spirit should lift me higher.....I am not sure I want to explain, Isaac.' She said and without wanting to receive an answer continued to walk.

It never makes sense that love can turn to a thorn and brings no joy in the beloved's heart. I failed to recognise her but chose to walk along with her, preferring to be silent before her question.

It was not in my nature to let go of what was dear to me. I fought hard and relentlessly to reach a place from where I can be my own master and I was loyal to my feelings for Katherine—surely that had to be enough. But her mind drifted away to some distant place where I was considered an intruder. It was difficult to ignore that Frederick spotted my inclination to your relationship with him as a source of curiosity. He once remarked,' I can sniff desire from a distance. You are walking on a tight rope by staying away from being open and honest about yourself. That is harsh Isaac,' I took his chiding admonition as an attack to avenge me for my victory to receive forgiveness from Abraham and nothing else but it was a hint he was harbouring hidden motives.

I thawed the ice with you on a seemingly beautiful day. the clear sky, ripples on the cold murky water of the river and your wrist gently coming to rest on my hand as I pulled the oars did not ignite any great thought in my mind but I was glad that you chose to ask me about Frederick. You soon saw his urgency to acquire attention as a selfish pursuit. He showed level of indifference when he was gripped by an idea to posses something and swiftly moved away from anyone wanting to know him better. He was in a hurry to start the entire project of setting up the hotel. It was secondary to him to care about the stain windows which were in pretty good condition and could be preserved at a cost which he was not willing to offer. While it irked you it also exposed Frederick's weakness and flighty nature.

I was glad to see you making headway from where you started off and the very next day went to visit Katherine in the hope to discover something to stand by. This time I was direct with her and asked, 'Katherine is something wrong?' to which she replied, 'What could go wrong?' She remained indifferent and showed no change of expression to give a hint she was going to soften her coldness and the ability to reject my advances. In a matter of seconds, she disentangled herself from my grip and stood up. 'Please, for my sake leave me.'

I was no stranger to hate and taunts. But rejection is too strong to bear—the pain shot through my heart. The final note in the melody of our relationship was bitter. I had no choice but to leave the cottage. Confusion and rage spilled out when I drank myself to sleep afterwards—I wanted to escape in places where Katherine and I could be together and she was resisting it. When the rays of the day lit the sordid room questions assailed my mind and I was besieged by a burning desire to find out the real reason why Katherine changed her mind. Something strange and profusely significant transformed her and she walked away; all roads leading to her were barricaded with high walls.

There was an effort to bridge distances and leave the territory of bitter sweet memory of the taste of love. On the day when the town gathered to work out what to do of the pending application which was put forward for approval before the committee to give permission to turn the church into a hotel, I trekked through the woods to reach the town. The meeting was arranged to take place in the townhouse. Many had gathered there on a late evening to hear the outcome. A mutual agreement on the need to have revenue to improve the poor structure of schools, local hospital and the roads was a pressing need. It was hard to ignore the reasons to have hotel that could attract tourists. Frederick stood before everyone in the crowded room to give a lengthy argument on the benefits of having the hotel which will be publicised in many tourist publications. Voices were raised and men openly refused to agree with Frederick and I was relieved to notice this because I was not sure if Frederick's flightiness will not affect his motives later on.

I waited for my chance to be heard. Vincent who sat along with two other men on the raised stage invited me to speak. Being the member of the governing committee he asked to be given names of all those who wanted to speak on this matter. When the hall became silent I started by reading out loud the pent up emotional eulogy about the town that gave all of us a sense of belonging. My words have always acted like a sharp weapon to cut through others motives. I grew up rebellious and my anger came before me in verses. I formed underground groups of poets and rebellious individuals. We were young boys and girls who were angry against our families, the society and the world at large. We grew up munching marijuana, hallucinating God with whom we could converse and acting to dismantle and break down the society at every possible way, except we never did so. The church was a reminder of what this town looked like in bygone era and to loose it entirely was not going to be a pleasant end to end our own pain. This gave me the ultimate reason to come out as a rebellious person.

Gregory a man with staunch belief in knowing what was dear to us was the first to speak. 'I fear that the intention to buy this church has not been examined in greater detail.'

In response I insisted on my genuine intentions, 'My purpose is only to assist everyone in this dire need and hence I offer you my words.'

James flanked on either side by Vincent and Gregory made a mockery of his status as a man who meant well when he could take comfort in the knowledge his profits made him a rich man. A timber trader by profession he could sniff a lucrative deal that would advantage him. 'We have not yet taken a decision on what can and cannot be done. So at this stage until we reach a confirmed collective agreement your words are just a show of poetry.' Vincent sat there too quiet for some time. He traditionalist by heart he chose hi battles carefully and no one envisaged the direct and straightforward approach from him when he got up and offered to shake my hand, 'I affirm we should no longer delay on this matter. We can't let greedy developers decide for us. The church represents our heritage. Therefore as the president of the council committee I declare that the deal to use the sight for tourism hotel is not to go ahead.'

That momentous day also brought forth my first public acceptance. Time did not heal the wounds, but acceptance solved the need to be taken seriously and not altogether shunned. Some people came forward to shake my hands and gave me recognition for my stance to nullify Frederick's ambitions. He was upped by me and that sealed our animosity to another deeper level.

The deal brought the measure of success that is encouraging enough to be seen that better days are ahead. I could earn my own way around people who once disliked me for my weaknesses. No one wanted to see bulldozers arriving any time sooner to level the grounds. Little did we know that they had already been given the marching orders and one early morning we heard the rumbling of the trucks rolling in and knocking down branches and trees. Some highly charged individuals took over the situation by choosing to shoot in the air to scare the contractors and their employed people. Further work was disbanded. Frederick's done deal was in tatters. He lowered his hood or walked without plainly wanting to be approached. In our last meeting we said too much and it left a bad feeling between us. However he was prepared to weather through sudden calamities that are too devastating and was seen at ease in your company whereas I was still not free from my demons. On some nights I sat to question the purpose of life and that forced me to admit I was a creature of habit who was inclined to shun people and not approach them. I could not understand the reasons for Katherine's abrupt coldness and on many nights drank myself to sleep.

Dark clouds gathered and rumbled over the village—no one knew where they came from. The angel of death paid visit to many households. People were dying from the onslaught of rain, water lashing and wrecking their homes. In these trying times Vincent worked tirelessly to relieve the people of their worries. He made groups of men to bring those stranded in areas still deluged under water. Men in bloated dinghies scavenged the vast land to bring people to the town square where the school gymnasium and town centre was the makeshift shelter. I volunteered my services to help out. There was too much to do and so little time to do everything at once. The supplies arriving for all those coming to the makeshift shelters were not sufficient but the continuing rains made it harder to reach the ones who needed to be brought back.

I tried to stop you from coming along on a rainy day as I made my way in the flooded street pushing and shoving the oars but for the first time saw the glint of strong wilfulness in your nature. My biggest fear was loosing you and I did not want to put your life in danger. But you got on the dingy and was not letting go. Every time we made a dash to reach out to a person frantically waving to be rescued you were eager to go ahead. I tried and failed to make you wait in the dingy because you were not mindful of the dangers.

At a certain location you stood before me while I was trying to recover from transporting few women and children to another boat. Your denim shorts barely covering your thighs could have done with some protective clothing as I was worried that the six inches deep water might carry sharp sticks or debris that might slice your skin. There you were standing before me drenched and wet. Your short hair sticking to your neck looking jet black and the curves of your breasts visibly clear behind the red chequered shirt. Yes you looked desirable. Probably you read my mind lucidly even though I was too sure I had concealed my attraction for you. The long entangled embrace that led to our first kiss was the first sign that we both had a connection amidst the reigning chaos of events. For the first time you opened up to me and let it out that you have been badly led down by Frederick who had been lately going out on his own and when he chose to return the sullenness in his nature made him too restless and he shut himself to be on his own. We were like two unwanted kids wrestling with our rejections but your tears showed me you still cared for Frederick even though you felt rejected by him at that moment. I was weary that things might instantly change and we will be totally lost, even though securing your trust was a ray of hope in the hour of unspoken moments.

I was not able to make out why we both were spending more time together after that first encounter. I looked forward to snatching an hour to puff cigarette while lying next to you on the sand bags. You carried on talking by unravelling the strands of connection to Frederick. You followed Frederick in assurance that he would never complicate things for real. I could only offer you a shoulder to cry on and after that returned to my original state where there was nothing to see ahead. I could not care if my delirious state caused me to loudly curse at my detractors; the gloom which envelops mind from lack of any light was mine to grapple. What others saw of me did not matter. Had someone taken the courage to inquire I would have gone on to explain that I was indeed a man living the misery of unfulfilled longings. It was difficult to overcome that there was no one who wanted to call out my name and search for my presence. Why Katherine was not interested in me anymore made no sense at all. A cold frost had covered the warmth of our association.

On many occasions she preferred to change the direction if she saw me coming towards her. Why there was urgency in her reactions was a question that plagued me and I could not make amends to rectify the damage which separated us. No wind of change altered the dullness inside me. Katherine rejected me and it was beyond doubt a disappointment I took seriously. My social acceptance maybe short lived and everyone will narrow their eyes and pass by me just like they chose to do when Frederick was near them.

One day I saw Katherine in the town. Her lovely face fresh like the early summer berries she collected in the corner's of the desolate rooms never left me in my sleep. She lived in my mind and the emptiness which echoed in the walls came to remind me I could not lay claim to be with her. The plaintive loneliness could not be overcome—oh what joy to see her busy doing a chore and then flustered to discover she was being watched with keenness! She followed me everywhere i went. It was not difficult to recognize her from afar. Her body curled up and pressed against a wall as if she was worried her presence will be a cause of concern in a discomforting way had convinced her she was better off not being noticed. Even though she had covered her head with a coarse brown cloth and the slow drizzle of rain formed a haze, I was able to recognize her. 'Why my dearest, you waste yourself in this way! What has come over you that you are perishing like a faded flower that has grown weak and lustreless from lack of nourishment,' i knelt down in front of her hoping she would not turn me away but she looked annoyed that she had been discovered crying piteously by someone who should have kept away from her.

I came to stand before her and said, 'I deserve an explanation if nothing else. Tell me what has befallen you that only hate fills your heart.'

'I never called your assistance to aid me and my misery. What happened is only my doing and it is my choice to make it known to you that your presence is unbearable to me...' she struggled to contain her emotions and yet her heart could not forgive me.

Her hair looked matt and messy—there was too much evidence she was living rough or maybe I was hallucinating that she needed me to be around her. I could not be sure.

'Katherine you will never escape the call of your heart. You will ask yourself why you chose to be cruel to your own self and denied the love that came your way,' I held her by the arms and made her look at me. She wanted to carry on grieving and that was unbearable to accept but got up and walked away. I was left to pick up the fragments of pain. Even if I knew that there will not be a moment for us to come together somehow the sinking hollowness in my soul told me I was fooling myself.

Katherine's final remonstrance of dislike made me unapproachable towards others. Everyone questioned my madness and anger but I did not care to reply to anyone. I lived through the regrets, sometimes making others responsible for my downfall and other times hating my own existence. I was convinced Frederick had succeeded to drag me down in the darkness even though he opted to keep away from me. He barely chose to be seen around even though the scene desertion was sighted around the amphitheatre and no one could approach the place that was quite submerged in the water. His absence was not without limitations and I forgot that he was skilful juggler who can easily beguile his admirer into believing that he is capable of much good when in fact he wills to destroy others simply because he is capable of inflicting callousness.

~

It was very long before the strength returned to rebuild something which had been broken and dismantled. I thirsted for a mission and for a while remained occupied in rebuilding damaged houses during the floods.

A team had been formed to rebuild the houses damaged in the floods. The committee had come up with the idea of putting together groups of the locals who could offer their services to all those affected in these devastating rainfall. I showed up daily at work on sights where houses were in shambles and carried out the work along with other men. We sawed timber, put together beams, window panels and new roofs; there was too much to do in a short time scale. But my mission to rebuild with the purpose to make sure the work was carried out to give relief to others was also distraction from the pain of loosing Katherine. I did not loose much time in thinking about her.

The most pressing distraction came from you. There was little I could do to avoid you. You strayed away from Frederick. There was always someone in need and you instantly made yourself available. Any time I returned to sign the rota at the make shift camp in the town you were present there. it was a pleasant surprise to see you among the crowds and your neediness was welcoming for my ego. I could lean on you knowing you relied on my assurance that somehow Frederick were meant to be with you. It was relaxing to walk in the quiet street and not knowing when the night will end. You wanted to be heard and I enjoyed just hearing you talk. Sometime later you would stop to stare at me. I recognized you were lost and hurt by looking at your eyes and part of me pitied you too. Frederick had abandoned the idea to throw parties after the deal for the church was turned down. It was unquestionably unbearable for you that he left the side of your bed or chose to sleep somewhere else without ever trusting you to find out where he was. While I comforted you that it was his way of coming to terms with reality I was helpless against your closeness towards me.

'Sometimes you kill me,' this was the final admittance from you about your true feelings towards me. It was strange to hear you say that I was a source of pain for you and in return I spoke of my own truest intentions, 'I love killing you.' But one of us took it too seriously. 'I love being killed by you,' was your way of letting it known that you are not going to leave me too soon. You wept and cried simply by admitting that there was no way you want to loose me too. I could not leave you knowing that your pain had redoubled by coming into contact with me and wanted us to continuing seeing each other. It never bothered me that Frederick was not with us however when he chose to axe me by hurling unwanted accusation of being a malicious person I could only think of one reason which compelled him to become like this. He was insanely jealous of me that I have managed to secure your trust and that is why he belittled me. I was prepared to take in his distrust. 'Trust is a strange connection. When it is not there we carry on trying to build it but when it is destroyed then words are meaningless. Abraham never parted with his money and it had to be used otherwise it would have been squandered by someone else. I decided to put to use that money in building a dream that would have been beneficial for others too. Just think how many hungry mouths could have been fed if the project had gone ahead! Even you could have found pittance worth of work for yourself on sight but you chose to dash the idea from your own petty selfishness. It will be hard to live with the regret and I know what to expect from blows that are too devastating to handle. Someone else will pay for this useless rejection and it wont be me,' the slurred speech sounded like the unspoken reverie of betrayal that had been spun and woven in endless revoked moments of anger. One day he followed me and when we both stopped to confront the sparks of grudge emitting from our hate-filled speech he left me reeling with loathing for him. I could see he meant what he said and saw this attempt a way to make me feel repentant for sharing your company and for a while he convinced me into believing that too.

There was nothing stopping us to seal our attachment and it was wiser to ignore Frederick for all his idle threats but sometimes, just sometimes moments of awakening do jolt us. I saw you laughing and so happy and was lured with the fantasies of whisking you off somewhere far away but then I knew that we will be hunted down and probably made to repent for our actions.

You probably had no idea what I was going to tell you the very next day I met Frederick who had nailed it that I was going to be recipient of regretful outcomes. It was cruel to break your heart, especially when you had just recovered from the setback in your relationship with Frederick. We were alone in the office where I had just arrived to sign and earlier it was a relief to see you not present there. I deliberately chose not to encourage you to kiss me. We could no longer go on seeing each other in the hope that one of us will be far away from Frederick. His presence cast dark shadow over my ability to reach out and follow a single ray of penetrating light in my soul. I was sure he would hound us to seek revenge because he was reeling from too much rejection and humiliation and it was not an easy for his ego to accept defeat. I was tired of fighting futile wars and gain nothing in the end.

We don't become strong by the passing of time we become strong by going through setbacks and I hoped you believed so too. I left you there standing alone; hoping that in time to come you will probably reach a decision and will leave the town to a place where it will be easy to make a fresh start. You see the irony of it all was, I too wanted to make a new beginning too. The slow progress in rebuilding the houses gave me the opportunity to show my skills in carpentry. I was offered a chance to work by Vincent whose construction work was in dire need of men willing to do few hours of work on daily basis. We struck a deal. I was to work for him and in return Vincent will accommodate to my demands of having free access to my spare time. I was prone to arrive early and leave early too.

Vincent turned out to be easy and relaxed about everything except the need to finish the work on time. His house was at the other end of the woods but farthest from the town and Shadowmoore which meant I had to borrow his truck on certain days to come to work. The early autumn days went on at a slow pace and it was good idea to be immersed in something useful to do. The sight of the laidback greenery, horses peacefully soaking the sun in the stables and the sound of the water of the lake crashing against the rocks was enticingly soothing. I often came to stop in the yard to smoke a cigarette and enjoyed looking at the horses unaccustomed by humans and aimlessly enjoying their freedom.

It was a hot muggy day when I was enticed by the sight of water in the trough. I had just crunched the stub of the last cigarette under my heavy soles and wanted to wet my face. When I was about to dip my hands the water cascading down the steel pail made splashes all over my denim shirt. I turned and saw Mary standing and holding the small pale which was intentionally tilted to let the water trickle. She chose to tip over the pail and let the water fall down on my hands. I noticed her strong hands meant to carry tough outdoor work. Sometimes the slowest rays of light travels unaware and gives rise to emotions different from the temperament we create. I was never able to reason out why i picked her hand and kissed the clammy palm and bony hard fingers clutching the handle of the pail.

The languid sunny day stretched for a long time and I took notice of her. She looked strong and intense. She was convinced I was hanging on to my past which has made it difficult for me to move on. We never talked about Katherine even though she was not forgotten. Mary knew my state of self-absorption came from being rejected and the idea looked almost real that I can ignore the rejection I received from Katherine by being with her. I had seen her ride, pull and tug tough ropes to haul the trees and pluck blooms growing in thorny bushes which sting and cut the skin. I saw her sitting and stroking the dog as if it was a deprived child lost without a mother. I recalled her presence on that fateful day when I first met Katherine near my house. I remembered her wavy black hair were cut very short and she looked much better with her hair now longer and fuller and thicker as she let them fall on her shoulders. Frederick's sudden provocation towards me made me aware I was steering in territories where he wanted to stand alone. My guess was he was interested in you and wanted me to keep away from you. I did not object to any advances Mary demanded from me and it was not difficult to see what she was after. She had lived in territories where everything is marked out and she was used to of living like that. A time was chosen and a request was made known to Vincent, who thought little of trying to ascertain the reasons why I wanted to marry his sister.

In the quietest of twilight moment on a summer day, we got married. The ride from the church to the castle was awkward. To withstand customary rituals before priest as the marriage was solemnized in the church were cringing moments. We both stood apart from each other and our stiffness and formality did not make it easier to bear in mind that we were going to be enjoined as husband and wife. There were no salutary good wishes exchanged just words and phrases sanctioned by Bible and held by a man of religion who sanctioned the marriage. It was Mary's idea to have a proper wedding in church where marriage vows solemnized our union.

We left the church but found no reason to return to the Shadowmoore too soon after the wedding. Mary spoke of a spot from where the river gushed in trickles and where a rope bridge had been in place to walk across. We parked the truck not far from the mouth of the hollow centre formed by the rocks that nature had installed to stay together. A single step would have transported both of us in a new territory! We were ready to walk on the entangled ropes but were stopped by a voice demanding to know why we were together. Our little sojourn just when the sun was going down was jarringly interrupted by Frederick who came there unannounced. I could not do anything but helplessly listen to him spill out an incident that marked more than usual vengefulness in the way Mary wanted to receive fulfilment. She was crushed for her brazenly bold move towards Frederick. They had got together or so it seemed. A desire to seek physical fulfilment from him turned to a sour disappointment. They met in the local bar where Frederick was pouring himself drink after drink and was not overly impressed to see Mary trying to distract him from leaving the bar when he was making a display of himself in front of everyone. She pursued her chase when he finally walked out and took him back to his flat. There he recovered from the slurry speech and chided Mary for trying to sleep with him. it was not to her liking and she was in a fix as to what to do.

She expressed her passion for him and met with blunt negativity. That was their secret to keep and she willingly hid it from me. I knew Frederick's eagerness to dismantle a helpless individual. He chose to be cruel to others who failed before him. As a child he took delight in seeing me get ridiculed by Abraham and never lost a chance to make me suffer. He stood on my fingers as I desperately clung to the edge of the cliff and the pain of the skin and bones being crushed never left my soul.

'You both will find ways to forgive each other!' his cynicism was a natural endeavour made to press on to others that he was unrepentant towards whomever he hated. Mary stood in her moss green dress exposed as a woman with lewd charms. She fastened her fancy to a man who took delight in showing cruelty. She fidgeted with the dewy pink roses—the bruised petals scattered around the ground. I pitied myself for being an outsider in their secret. If only I had known rejection made Mary keener to hold on to someone else. Frederick left soon after giving us a bad taste of his own vengeance.

Throughout the journey she looked lost and I did not try to converse with her. When we passed by the spot where Katherine first laid eyes on me, my intentions to walk away from her memories proved futile. I was chained to desiring her.

In stale silence Mary and I entered the house as man and wife. Amidst the sound of our breathing and footsteps, the crackling branches swaying outside heralded our welcome. Mary entered the ominous shadow hovering over the living souls who were somehow cursed because of their inability to mingle with the outside world. It was now up to her to make it a pleasant place. Though it was not difficult to guess that in this gloomy house the sunshine streaming through windows to create elongated shadows in sparsely furnished rooms did not allow any living soul to nurture warmth and comfort. The kitchen that was the hub of activity in her old home kept her busy. But this house was too dark and visibly cluttered with old and threadbare objects. She walked through the rooms lingering with the smell of death and decay and clutched her chest in fear of the collective idea that she will be living here for a long time. What kind of a man lives with stale old memories—her face said it all. She walked slowly around the rooms, absorbing the strangeness of dark corners and shadows which stifle joy and warmth.

At last we entered the room that once belonged to Abraham . His daily objects still lying scattered and untouched. Confused by the milieu of dismal dreariness Mary was unprepared to see me leave the room without as much as offering a word in response to how we were to spend our night together. I found it difficult to digest that I had entered this house with another woman and that finalized my loss of Katherine. The haunting message of my actions ended Mary's hope to mystify the moment that would bring us together. She undid the chords of her dress, took off her cream silk slip and allowed her black hair to come out looking wavy after pulling apart the tiara made from flowers. The lacy shoes, still bearing traces of mud collected from walking on a muddy path that came in the way of the entrance, were left by the bed. She followed me downstairs and entered the living room where I chose to drown myself in a sea of regrets. The room lit by several lights swigging chandelier above our heads made her presence known to me.

Her expectations had been to build a scenario to lavishly excite her groom; increase his brutal arousal. In return I will gesture her towards fulfilment and she will act as the perfect instrument to play with. But I was comfortable to sit languidly on a chair by the fireside lost in thoughts. Her molten naked body withstood the drought that rattles the windows and doors. She slowly walked up to me. A bottle of whisky placed on the table was still full of mirth when my blurry blood shot eyes made out the curves of her breasts inviting me to feel their softness. I reached out to grab the bottle. Every strand of the distances between us spoke of cold indifference to understand each other's needs.

'You think I am insane to follow you down here. I want you to believe I only do what I want to do and I chose to be with you,' she was the first one to break the mould of silence.

'Did it never occur to you that I am a man who lives in the past? I don't crave for happiness. I grope in darkness to search for people who once promised to deliver me from my sinking battles. Their betrayal is my fate,' I detested her probing—the mere acknowledgement of my rejection was unbearable.

'don't betray your heart, Isaac. You look cruel and false....' She stood there unmoved by any dispelled ignored fantasies.

Mary willed herself to come this far; there was no going back. Hope is a strange portion that makes us a little more receptive. Maybe in desperation I could have changed my mind—we both abandoning our inhibitions and the night carrying us farthest from the hard reality that cuts through our souls. Those wonderful thoughts did not make a lasting impression in my heart to alter my suspicion towards her. A cynical laugh escaped my mouth. I tried to balance himself by resting my elbow on the table and spoke with great difficulty, 'Why must I be loved and not hated! You should not waste your time trying to win over my affections—I am used to of listening to whispered rambles and cursing. When I suffer, I am purged of my coarseness. '

It was reasonable if she had cursed herself for falling for a man like me. IT was sane of her to question as to what darkness befalls a man that he has taken to push away all that can belong to him! It was hard for Mary to shake off the feeling that a concealed truth might not turn out to her advantage. She looked eager to please me. I could have allowed her complete freedom to arch for my pleasure; spread her body wantonly on the bed and delight in letting me kiss her in those crevices where heat is pure delight. That should have been enough to start a beginning and yet i wanted more!

'What has happened is not going to change anything. We have been solemnly tied in a union and that make us as husband and wife but I am shaking from rising fear that something ominous will seek to separate us. Rather than suffer by enduring the punishment to burn with desire and keep quiet, share with me what torments you to madness!' the reality slowly opened her eyes. She was shaking from remorse and yet she was willing to lavish me with more chances.

My hand slid from the bottle and dropped down. Despair had made me bitter and I chose to explain to her in great detail, 'Wine helps to drown my sorrows. Now that I have numbed the regret that she is not with me, I am full of warmth. I will not exasperate your confusion any longer by keeping quiet. As soon as I saw you walking down the aisle, my heart went back to her. I'd give the world to be with her, but I can't follow her. She slips away like grains falling between my fingers. She pushes me away because my deficient affection hurts her. I was wrong to believe I could replace memories of her round face and small body with your image. She is wild, untamed like the berries she collects and I shall never ever receive a morsel of shared intimacy with her,' I was tired of Katherine's face haunting me and in that taunting me too for my helplessness in overcoming the deep desire to have her with me. 'You will be provided for your external comforts, but do not trespass in places where you are not allowed admission! It will destroy everything for you.'

Mary's mouth dropped for a brief moment while she tried to absorb the extent of the real shock! She read through my words and kept shaking her head in denial over what she imagined she discovered. Like a fool she went inside a dark cave not caring to take heed of the premonition that dark places have hidden secrets that are too vile and dangerous to encounter. All along I had been in love with a different woman. It was Katherine who avenged her own betrayal. The plump little elfin holds the strings to my complicated soul and it never occurred to Mary that there was a story behind the man whom she hoped would ravish her body and soul—unclothe her and transform her to a real woman.

A senseless and destructive earthquake shook the ground under Mary's feet. There she was standing naked before the man who was enjoined to her in matrimony few hours ago but also trying to overcome the shock of discovering he had rejected her while she was forsaking every ounce of will power she possessed. A rotten core of apple is no use when the flesh is eaten. She sank down from exhaustion. Her flashing eyes spotted that nothing had altered my stance. I rose from my chair not preferring to overlook her face which mirrored too many throbbing emotions. 'Never mind,' I began to speak in a measured calm voice preferring to stop before leaving the room. 'you will learn in time to restrain your emotions. You can try to drive me mad but then there will be no escape from the darkness you have fallen into.'

The tears which spilled from her eyes only went on to remind me of my last encounter with Katherine—she was weeping too. 'Consider yourself a guest here, Mary. And who knows if you are willing to earn your place as a permanent lodger, you will be given the opportunity to prove you deserve to stay!'



The turn of tide in Mary's life spoiled everything for her. it soon became evident that the castle was inhibited by a brooding and enraged lady. Mary had little peace in a place that never gave away any warmth. The overnight change in her countenance only went on to reflect she was marooned in a gloomy environment that made her less inclined to follow anyone else but her own wilfulness. My maniacal rejection haunted and tormented her. She staged feverish bewilderment and displayed it by throwing objects, tearing pillows, cushions and clothes with bare hands and hurling nastiness at me. When her wits calmed down she became utterly quiet and busied herself in menial work chores. There was plenty to do to make me realize that the house was inhabitable. Her sad heart travelled along with me but she did not detect any anguish, pity, concern in my abstract gaze as I defiantly ignored her pleadings to be reciprocated with equal measure of keenness. Her rage built up from the slightest reminders of how she had been betrayed by a pitiless man and the wayward wickedness resurfaced in her nature. In the outer darkness she traced the outline of her face radiating happiness on the day of the wedding and her contemptuous coldness resurfaced—all normalcy dissolved from recollection of the past events. In moments of fury her hands started to shake and she rambled and exclaimed that she hated me more than anything. I pushed her out of the room and dragged her to dark rooms to get my peace of mind. Finally I resorted to locking her in the cellar in the basement which frightened her considerably. She begged for forgiveness and made it known that madness will not come back to torment me and only then I let her return to the bedroom. We were intimate solely for our needs. I drew her body raw and sapped the intense longing to be cherished and explored through the raptures of physical contact. I saw her eyes tight shut and that further intensified my rage against the situation which existed between us. In the deep waters of turbulent and lashing oceans we waded as two people enjoined to be together but avenging the anger that rested in our souls. When the act was over it further annoyed me to realize that she could not see that I was not putting up a fight to keep her. Mary was there because she derived a weird pleasure in loving me even though there was no reciprocation.

Sometimes Mary convinced herself to believe she would give the world to return to her original state. Her ego pulled her away from the comforts she knew existed in her brother's house and it was ordained on her to suffer till order is replaced. In drunkenness I rambled and on pleading for a jot of sentiments gave her a faded hope, 'I shall never be at peace living under this roof not knowing how to strive to receive my share of happiness. We all undergo the worst possible circumstances and then someone comes to stir us from the slumber of despair. Wait for your turn Mary. Never vanish from fear that nothing will happen and the hope will perish. It will happen one day.'

The painful nights pulled us in different directions. What turn of tide altered her moods and transformed her to a demon was beyond recognition a painful dejection but I never recognized it as cry for help. We lashed at each other and then on other days quietness did descend on us.

Our married year was near the end and we were entwined in a state of dysfunctional madness. Mary's emotional state was compounded with a desire to revenge an unchangeable error. She was bolted and shut away from the rest of the world but the desire to explore a path that could lead her to leave the ugly house was too hurtful to consider. I was hideous creature who could not pity Mary when she faltered to recognize herself in the mirror as the same person she once was. In a fit of rage she turned a raving made woman. Preferring to hit me or bite me hard on the arm—I imagined her as a ferocious Terrier gnashing her teeth and calling me all sorts of obscenities. There was enough strength in my sinews to pull her by the hair and then pin her down on the floor. Her curses were plentiful. Even if I pushed her from the strength of my body it was sometimes difficult to stop her. The hoarse voice emitted wails were jarring to hear. The froth around her mouth and the beads of perspiration on the forehead went on to give evidence that she struggled against a cruel heart and was willing to carry on doing so. When she could no longer display anger, I carried her to the bed. She fell in a deep slumber tired from exhaustion and I remained relaxed in the knowledge she will be too weak to get up.

One day my assumption proved wrong. As soon as I had laid her down her hands went up to my neck. I had to thrust her aside, pushing the pillows on her face but it was too little to stop her from the madness.

When I left the room I made sure the bolt was firmly and securely placed on the door and she knew what to expect, 'Dear Mary, taste the bitterness of perpetual grief for I too have gone through it. And you willed to follow me here, wait for your chance to be released. Till then, I you wont be bothered any more. Good night!'

At the end of the winters the wild, wild storms raged and the trees battered against the howling wind and lashing rain. When everyone thought the storms have died down they resurfaced and the town saw a deluge of slush, leaves and violent blasts of wind sweeping away chimneys and rattling the pales left outside.

I chose to return in evenings earlier than before. There was nothing significant about a day when the turn of tides were about to bring great upheavals to upset the marooned ships sitting for too long on the shores. In the hours I took refuge from Mary's lunacy I immersed myself in drinking away. Silence was not a pleasurable reminder of my state. I recalled the dreams I had spun of islands full of riches, travelling to places in seas where sun rays were reflected on the waters, but put aside to fulfil other obligations that gave me no attachment or release from isolation. The images of escape looked tempting. I wanted to seek release from my own created hell but lacked the courage to do so. On the nights when calmness did descend I opened the hidden vault where i had stashed money and relished counting it. The contents were emptied on the table; it was a relief to finger the notes and the urge to spend it resurface. With that the daunting realization that I had no direction to immerse and be swept by a care or an idea returned too.

On one such night I sat drinking and wondering why the trap I had created for myself could not help me escape from my miserable existence and instantly felt drawn to the idea of finding some source of compassion that was directed towards me. Katherine inclined to desire me for her need was not willing to give up her fight. We were never meant for each other and I wanted her. But she had been swept away by the current of the tide that came and caused destruction—suddenly and completely. In the past days I weighed the consequences of leaving Mary behind and never returning. That way she can have her comforts and I won't be plagued by the guilt of ignoring the hope that Katherine will return to me. I will be released from all pending worries and the hate directed at me from all sides.

I was sure I was dreaming and saw an image of a hand knocking on the hard, solid door of the house that had me imprisoned. The hand was frail and weak. The faint knocks became visible—indeed there was knocking on the door which roused me from the drowsy state. I could not believe that someone wanted to come at this very late hour; it was past midnight. A rumbling of the gathering clouds could still be heard in the distance and Mary must have gone on to sleep---all was silent. It was a miserable night and I faintly questioned the reason of the visitor to come knocking at this hour. I dragged my drunken body to reach to the door.

On opening the door i discovered a figure swathed in a cloak standing before me. Something compelled the person to come forward and then without warning a small baby wrapped in a blue shawl was handed to me. I had no idea how to overlook the sweeping surprise which overtook me as I continued to hold the baby and looked carefully at the person collapsing before me.

Beneath her soggy clothes Katherine appeared weak and tired. She willed her own declining physical state to protect the child she had passed on to me. 'Katherine your face is deathly pale,' I bent down and tried to pull her up by her arm. Her parched and dry lips murmured something that I could not understand. If it was to explain what had happened I wanted answers and so I asked, 'Why did it all come to this?'

'I wronged you!' The lament in her eyes spoke of the desperateness to say something before it was too late. She looked at the baby, the little hands pulled fists and the mouth reached to sup nourishment and satisfy the hungry belly and Katherine offered the baby her finger.

'I am not myself and can't do anything for you,' I could no longer struggle to hide my own frantic failure to be strong and available for her. Katherine understood the hidden overture and knew that she will not be saved from drowning in the dark pool that circles the mind. Her eyes were closing as she tried to support her body by resting her weight on the door frame.

I gave her support by holding her from behind the waist, 'Katherine, say something so that my unfound fears will leave and I will be reassured that you are with me. Cast me aside like a diseased mongrel but open your eyes.' She made an effort to open her eyes. Even the slightest action from her was a struggle. 'Don't go where I cant find you!,' it sank deeper that she hardly spoke to affirm her sincerity. Something happened and it shook the foundations of our love, destroyed our happiness and left us so needy that we were never going to be enough for each other. I had to bring her back from that desolate place where she was stranded, 'You have grieved me! But I will worship your shadow and my devotion will wash away our scars.'

No affirmation came from her mouth. She pulled me towards her. I realized she too had succumbed to the jot of drink to lull her pain. 'He is yours in blood and flesh!......love him as your own, Isaac.'

What nonsense could have befallen on her that she declared the child as mine! 'Speak further, Katherine. Explain to me the meaning of your strange reasoning...stay!' I was in dire need to ascertain what she meant.

Her mouth stopped moving. The baby wriggled while feeling the discomfort of being crushed in my grip as I struggled to hold on to Katherine. I gently rocked her body hoping she will open her eyes, 'Katherine tell me why must I take this child as mine?'

The voice could no longer sustain the truth. A breath escaped her mouth and then all was silent.

'speak to me Katherine....' Each time she showed signs of giving up I willed to keep her from closing her eyes.

I could read that her imploring eyes begged to not try to save her. The last word she spoke before departing forever mirrored her broken worthlessness. The word slashed me in two. My soul was mutilated and probably the deep gash was never going to make me recover from the discovery that Katherine chose to pull me further away from the safe shores. I slowly lowered her body on the wet ground and covered my face while hoping the tears would be drenched in the rain.

Frederick's presence was like a shadow that sought to seek to be reminded he was there in every possible way. He had again succeeded in stabbing me and dragged me down by shouldering the weight of what had been done. To bear witness of evidence that he had gone on to cause Katherine great pain was unbearable. I loved her dearly and found life to be the sweetest melody in the moments spent with her. Now she was gone and left behind a reminder that her brokenness had been the doing of Frederick.

In the bleakest of nights I wept before Katherine's dead body while not certain how to handle the child that was the product of a torn relationship. The story does not end there. The facts of every action afterwards become muddled and too difficult to untangle. I shall proceed to start from a moment that never washed away from my soul.

Words can offer very little comfort to the horrible heartache I feel for being indifferent to the gratitude I received from a lonely boy. Under the glare of the inky blue light that penetrated from the window the boy could be seen cowering in a corner. He was determined to find out the causes behind the spasm screams his mother made. Every time he heard her voice wrench the air he dug his nails deeper in the skin of his palms. There was talk; there was muttering and concerns emitting in adult voices that he could not identify. But he knew all was not well and in that knowledge there was little to do but wait in silence. A doctor and a nurse were beside his mother's bed monitoring the condition of his stepmother and yet his little heart had gathered that his presence was in some way to blame for the situation.

He cautioned his beating heart to not stir unprovoked noises otherwise there will be trouble for him and for everyone else who was trying to save his step mother from the throes of death. He sat down for eon moments to learn of what was happening inside a room where his father, the doctor and the maid were assembled. He took relief in the knowledge when his mother had stopped screaming—it was a sign that she will be saved and normalcy can once again resumed in their house. But the deathly calm did not remain for too long and the wails and screams resumed. He covered his ears and shuddered imagining the worse to happen. But once the fear subsided he removed his hands from the ears and was surprised to hear the tiny cry of a baby.

Lucas out of habit stared in the air. Places and span of time zoomed passed his head. He took solace in the woods and imagined the odd tree turning to a friend who could answer his questions or just follow him around trying to catch him. Some innate craving compelled him to hug trees. His small hands circled the trunk and it was tempting to ask him what place existed in his imaginary world where there was so much light that he forgot the hard exterior of the tree leaving behind rough grazes on his palms.

i had no idea how to confront the seeping grief that Katherine left this world but the torment was not over from the increased realization that her child was a constant presence left to nurture under my care. It was merciless to severe bonds with a child who in flesh and blood was linked to me more than anyone else. My real rage rested against Frederick and I wished I had never set sight on someone who in every essence was cloned to be Frederick's image. I tried hard to purge my heart of nasty recollections that the child was a product of a strange union between Frederick and Katherine. Both of them went on to hurt me deeply and it was a sinister trick played to ridicule me that I should be left to look after their child. Time and again Frederick had mutilated my soul and he succeeded in doing utmost damage to my feelings pinned onto the image of a smiling and loving Katherine. Producing a child was the final blow which broke my determination to rid myself of the past ghosts.

The night Katherine died I took her son to Mary and reminded her of the promise she once made. 'You wanted to believe in me and look after my interest. Here is your chance Mary. Rear this child as your own and you will keep all that I have and whatever belongs to me.' She performed the most basic duties to nurture the little boy probably from the urge to cure her insanity but it was clear her mind did not wholeheartedly accept him.

She preferred to call him a 'wicked monster,' instead of 'Lucas' the name I chose for him and developed a peculiar habit of cleaning her hands constantly after coming into contact with his naked body that had to bathed, clothed and cuddled. By doing all that she could do to hate Lucas, Mary exposed her complex nature lacking warmth which I discovered in Katherine and that further drove me away from her. She was never the woman who took my fancy. She went on to create a suffocating environment in the house and it had to be accepted that her presence was instrumental in bringing up a child whose responsibility was thrust to me.

Lucas lost his mother and probably was to grow up not learning who his father was. Frederick was not to be seen or heard of any more. It was only when he died in a car accident somewhere in Texas that we found out where he was in all these years. What prompted him to leave or how he ended up walking on a road near the border where the truck driver did not see him is not clear. The news of his death was passed on by the family lawyer who also disclosed he had no assets of his own. I selfishly guarded and protected the bag of my money I had hidden away. Its presence was a reminder of my own dream and that was a comforting illusion to live for; even if no jot of sustenance could be derived from the gloom surrounding me. I could live within my own meagre means and gave up working from sheer want of creating distances with everything that was faintly associated with this household. I carried out most of transactions for Vincent who had retired due to ill health. To be honest the work was not enough to keep going, but I wanted to earn my upkeep money and that kept me going.

In the proceeding years Mary exposed the secrecy of acts carried out to satisfy bare instincts. She knew Katherine followed the trail of Frederick's dire need to be admired and worshipped and that made her ever needy to be reciprocated for her own needs. She did not receive the same measure of attention from Frederick who could be cruel and unforgiving towards anyone he did not like. I should have soothed Mary's aching wounds and that would have been some measure of relief for her. Her misery increased from making amends to take care of Lucas who could not fathom the causes of hate directed towards him. She had given up the idea of ever leaving the house without regrets that she was made to suffer for no gain. In her eyes I belonged to her even though I remained aloof and unapologetic. Her ill-treatment only increased the desperation to be not slighted and cast aside. Nothing had prepared her for the arrival of a child who was not hers, and belonged to Katherine!

The question plagued her routinely as to why I chose to slight her but that was not the only rage that turned her to a mad woman. She could not rid herself of the stench rising from recollection of reality that love shared Katherine and Frederick produced a child. She was silent about many things including the fateful night she had the encounter with Frederick. She nursed secrets of Katherine—childish and innocent ones dusted and sprinkled with details to make her look like a fiend; Katherine was exposed in order to frighten me into thinking i was bewitched and lured by an evil woman. I dismissed these stories. As a response Mary chided, cursed and raged to humiliate me to let me know of unhappy I had made her. Once her love evaporated she started seeing me as a flawed man who had no reason to rejoice his successes and continued to hurt her. The bitterness made her hard and the secret close to her heart of the encounter with Frederick who had left the town was meant to avenge my dislike of her. I was not confound to living in the past and did not change my stance against her.

Just before Mary was about to resign to the idea that she is fated to die looking after Lucas she experienced fainting spells. Against her wildest imagination she was going to have a baby. The child was to be the missing block of brick to cement the bond between us she was sure happiness was within her grasp.

On the night Irene was born, Lucas sat squatted under the large window on the wall near the staircase and heard the wailing cry of the baby. He was just as surprised and confused as we were. I was overjoyed on the birth of my daughter and it mattered to see the beautiful little girl opening her eyes to ascertain my affection for her while Mary bathed her with pure motherly love. We cared for her and her well being—it was natural to protect and love a child who had delivered us from perpetual hate. We could not fathom how she was to survive if our attention was divided on other matters and wanted to spend most of our time with her.

It must have surged in Lucas's heart the wonderment that he was not loved or admired. His large eyes spoke of the betrayal he picked up but had no idea how to defend himself against it. Under the protected care of her parents Irene was cherished and that was a rare glimpse of change in the lives of everyone who lived in the house. Lucas's curiosity was fixed on the way Irene was growing up and he often wandered in her room with the intention to be near her. But his curiosity was unpardonable to Mary. He was spotted by her on a rare day as he sat down beside Irene's cradle to peep at the child nestled in the soft coverings. 'Be banished in hovels. I don't want you to creep before my child and ruin my happiness....' Mary stared contemptuously at Lucas's frightened face. Not sure he was going to be instructed harshly he was frightened into submission when she pulled his collar and said harshly, 'You are not ours!'

On seeing Mary wilfully reducing the little boy's self-worth I could not stop myself from saying to her, 'A worthless beetle that crawls on the ledges of windows is less venomous than you, Mary! Why do you frighten the boy into submission; he was only trying to pacify her.'

Lucas loved Irene and quietly stole in the room if she was left to be on her own. Seeing her wanting to be amused pleased him too. However that was not the reason to play with Irene and he only realized soon after Mary stopped him from offering her child any distraction. It was beginning to make sense that something disturbing and serious took place but he was in the dark about the consequences. He was sure he had devastated a purpose or intent.

Not too long afterwards I chose to be no different. Rage is a peculiar emotion. It can easily travel on to weak souls if they remain dormant against its effects. I only remembered how Mary encountered Lucas's keenness to be near Irene's cradle and chose to act the same way on discovering he had disobeyed her terms. I grabbed Lucas by the neck; his face trembling to be discovered disobeying those with authority and shook him several times before making it known that he was in grave trouble. He withstood threats and scolding in order to come near Irene and he was made aware it was not acceptable. 'If you wish for death in order to spare yourself of the torment you will be made to endure. It does not require much strength to constrict your throat and stop you from breathing,' his eyes bulged out from the anticipation of what was to happen and I was emboldened to carry on ranting at him. 'Tell me, do you want me to make it safe for you?'

He stammered but not too much. I knew what he was trying to say to me, 'I have tried to wake her. She wants to hold this...'

Lucas showed me the wooden rattle that he was holding. It was the same one that had bells attached to it and the noises made Irene laugh a lot. I wanted to dismantle that toy. Its noise was a death knell signifying the return of the past ghosts who want to tell me I was cursed in many ways. I blamed myself for everything. Yes something terrible had happened and Irene lay in her cot so still that her peaceful face could have been the face of a doll meant to be child's playing delight. In Lucas's face I recognized Frederick. He was mocking me and retelling me the reasons why I shall never succeed. It was no use to pretend that everything sorts out if we forget the past. I could not let Frederick's memories return. I went down the stairs holding on to Lucas by his sleeve. He had overstayed his visit and I did not believe so until the moment turned ugly and nasty. Maybe Lucas was fated to come to live under my care to avenge my weakness to stand against Frederick. I opened the door and pushed him out. The hardened brittle door was solid and smothered the voices of the outside world. It was quiet when I returned upstairs.

What is it that compels you to return to places that are submerged in musty memories! The taste of wind full of salt, the air diluted with vapours of fragrant flowers and the stench of human sweat in towns where bargaining and scavenging gold is the only reason to toil and endure extreme brutality and treachery, did not wipe away the lingering concern that I had an unfinished matter to attend to.

MY departure from the town came in the most tormenting times which led me to doubt my own sanity—events occurred and destroyed my hope that I would ever be the same person again, left me too disorientated. I finally got the courage to run away and try my luck at scouring places where riches existed and increased man's thirst to be brave, bold and courageous against all natural and violent adversaries. On certain nights the face returned to remind me of my own beastliness which could not differentiate between the fragile wants of vulnerable innocence of a child and the rage which is the product of feeling helpless for not doing enough save oneself from being broken down again and again.

Sleep never came easily. On some nights I saw the still face of Irene on the pillow and it was enough to make me want to shout and scream like a mad man. I wanted to blame everyone and anyone who wanted to make peace with the universe or believed that there is some hidden calls of divine justice that is not seen or noticed but prescribed and written down to be followed. A fraction of madness allows you to think that an action to blame others is the only way to be relieved of the remorse that even when all is given to save oneself it is not enough. I buried Irene from my own hands. The dirt of wet mud scathed my hands—I was always thinking of her.

I left the town without letting anyone know what had taken place. I did not want anyone to touch Irene's small body and buried her that very night. I lost the will to carry on living as if a new day will bring new hope. I took my money hidden away in the vault and left without even bothering to wake up Mary who was fast asleep without the least susceptible knowledge of what had happened. I was sure she would not survive knowing that Irene has left this world. A letter left by her bedside explained it all. She must have woken in a still house and the misery was to linger for a long time of what had happened.

They did not know how to reach me and neither was I bothered to learn what had happened in my absence. That Mary died by taking her own life did not make me stop and question if the tragedy could have been avoided. I learned about her death from the family lawyer who was told to take care of the house and its possessions soon afterwards. I lived in New York working my way in the fishery area to scratch a living and wrote poetry aimed to be read out aloud in basements where individuals like myself came to pass time and make pledges to change the world with our own stories seeking justice, love, pride and escape. We met in cafes or in basements to share our thoughts or whatever we wanted to say within our own circle. Escape is not something you can will upon yourself if the heart is wrestling to hold you back. One face haunted me at every moment I breathed. I was almost certain a face in empty air moved eerily towards me and these hallucinations never made me freer than I thought I could be. Lucas was left to fend himself. He was made to suffer when it was not his fate to suffer.

MY guilt has worsened at every turn I take. You were right; I returned home for another reason. Last night it became clear to me and I could see why I was pulling myself away from everyone thinking I deserved a second chance and that you would still be waiting for me when I chose to ignore you. I have done awful many things wrong. Funny how we lull ourselves into believing that a change of place and time will make us forget the past, none of that happens if the guilt is too deep. I have spoken to my lawyer before coming here to find out if anything can be substantiated about Lucas's whereabouts. The town has changed since I left; many of the old acquaintances have dispersed or passed away but I am hopeful there is still someone out there who can tell me what happened to Lucas.'

Isaac looked around him and for a moment did not recognize the balcony where he was sitting and the face of the woman who watched him undeterred to walk away from him. The night had closed in and Sophia was sitting before him, taking in every word of his story as a transcript of a tale that was supposed to be told without an ending. Her faint smiled carried a tinge of inquisitiveness.

'What if you never find Lucas.....what will you do then?' asked Sophia. Her hand resting under her chin dropped by her side.

'I will accept that I arrived too late to change the fate of a story,' answered Isaac. 'But I must use all my options and see where I will go if I have come this far.'

In the haze of a dim sunset both were lost in revealing their shortfalls and hopes. The balcony had turned to a stage where the prelude of their tale encompassing attachment and the expectations of a new beginning were yet to be spoken of. Isaac knew it was going to be one long night and he poured wine in the two glasses before him. After a lengthy abstinence he was going to savour the mirth of drinking without trepid fear that he will cause a grave mistake. The smile he had etched in his mind now foreshadowed a connection that wanted to be reciprocated. He reached out to hold Sophia's hand that fidgeted with the silver fork on the table. He was sure he saw the brightest of spark in her eyes when she smiled at him.

end

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