tinycoffeebarbarian

[tinycoffeebarbarian]

A Cold Cup Of Memories

“Wake up, my love.”

Naresh Yadav opened his eyes on a sunny Tuesday morning. And knew he was going to die.

He was not ill. The man’s cigar had just burnt out. Sunlight filtered through the blue embroidered curtains Avi had picked out for their house. The blue and white checkered lantern atop the bedside table glowed happily. Naresh switched it off.

With the ease one only achieves by doing something daily, Yadav brushed, showered, and then changed into his work clothes. And like he had done for the last twenty-two years, made himself some upma for breakfast. When he was done, Naresh’s hands turned to make a cup of coffee. Soon the bittersweet smell of the wretched beverage snaked around the room.

He sipped the drink and winced, too less sugar. Avi had always known better.

But Avi would never make coffee again.

Because Avi was dead.

His husband was dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Naresh sat down near the steps of his front porch. A line of ants walked past.

Boop.

Boop.

Boop.

Boop.

The ants bumped against each other, seeming to adoringly bumble around, Avi used to point at them and give them voices and entertain him when he was feeling a bit down in the dumps.

One of his favorites was when he had given a small little black ant that seemed to keep going off the path a cute British accent.

“Oh, Im terribly sorry! Im just a terrible klutz, please do pardon me. Oh dear--- oH GOD!”

And then they had decided that the ant behind was his wife and was just about done with the ant’s aNtics (yes, his husband had actually said that).

“Oh, John would you stop with the lollygagging already! The children are alone with that nanny, I don’t want to leave them with her for more time than necessary. Oh, for heavens’ sake! Do get a move on!”

The forty-five-year-old man was smiling.

And then, the lonely widower was crying.

He hated this drink.

He hated the cold side of their bed.

He hated the stupid empty Minions cup.

He hated the love of his life for dying.

He hated cancer.

He hated the hollowness.

Back when they were still dating, he remembered asking his love.

“ Why the hateful vile drink? It’s so bitter. Won’t a milkshake get the job done?”

Avi had taken his hand, (something that had sent wild chills up Naresh’s hand) smiled at him, and told him.

“ It reminds me, that even something so bitter and unlovable like coffee, with the right ingredients, can become something so sweet. It reminds me, of us. It reminds me of how I thought that someone as unlovable as me would never ever have anyone to love me, but how here I am, clutching your hand, grinning at you.”

Yadav had known then, looking at Avi’s eyes, he would marry him.

His chest was empty. Nothing left to give. It was so hard to breathe. His lips trembled.

Tears still flowed. A river with no beginning, no end, no relief, just, pain. And the ghost of the smell of his lover’s soap. But that sadly, my readers, was just Naresh’s imagination.

He got up. The Lawyer then cleaned his face. The watch read 3:00 PM. He had sat on the same spot for eight hours.

His coffee had grown cold.

The diagnosis had come one year ago.

The sadness and medicines had followed.

Stage IV abdominal cancer.

Metasstazided in every single organ in the surrounding area.

Malignant.

Inoperable.

He had held Avi’s hand like he always did.

Avi had smiled and said it would be okay.

Avi didn’t carry his husband from room to room every day for a year.

Avi didn’t see his husband regularly wince in pain.

Because Avi was dying.

He remembered the first week of their marriage.

He had woken up smiling.

So had Avi.

Everything had seemed ethereal.

They had gone to make breakfast. And Avi was making his horrible favorite drink. Except he wasn’t using the Coffee Maker or filter Naresh had bought for him. He was simply putting the coffee and sugar into the cup with a few droplets of water and mixing them.

“ You know….. we both earn quite a lot, I think we can afford the electricity the machine will use.”

Avi had sheepishly smiled at him.

“I like making it like this. The other methods always seemed a bit too easy, doesn’t make it feel like an accomplishment anymore. Also, are you telling me you can get this froth with that machine, can you?”

That part he agreed with. His husband’s coffee always had a fantastic layer of froth on it, something he could never achieve whenever he made the drink. When asked about it, Avi just winked and told him he just put a generous dollop of love, nothing else. Naresh used to roll his eyes at that. Now, he would give everything for a chance to see that wink again.

The tears were back.

This time, coughing held their hands while walking in.

Avi had progressively grown thinner. Weaker. His handsome face, once full of strength, became a pale copy. His body, once lined with powerful muscles, withered away.

Within seven months, his lovely brilliant caring man turned into a husk of his former glory.

Yadav saw it all. And stayed with him till the end.

The clock now read 10:00 PM.

For reasons unbeknownst to him, the Lonely Man picked his cold cup of memories and walked back to his bedroom.

As he slid into his bed, his heart wandered back to last Tuesday. To the day Avi had finally died. And left him alone. Alone with the love in his heart and the emptiness his jokes left behind.

He had lost weight. But not the twinkle in his eyes, the warmth, the kindness. Not the pain. Not cancer.

He remembered how he had held his hand. And how his lover slept. The pain now too much to stay awake in.

But Avi had opened his eyes. And smiled.

“ Goodbye, my love, thank you so much for loving me, and for letting me love you.”

Naresh had just smiled at him and clutched his hand tighter.

“ The pleasure, was all mine.”

A flatline.

Avi’s hand going limp.

A week of numbness.

No tears.

Nothing.

Just disbelief.

A man, whose faith had been cruelly ripped from him.

On the bed, still in his work clothes, Naresh sipped his second sip of the coffee.

God, he hated it.

God, he missed him.

He finished the drink.

The taste sat on the back of his mouth. The smell, now sitting inside his nose.

It wasn’t so bad now.

He turned to place his hand where Avi’s head had rested for hundreds of nights.

“Rest now, my love”

Naresh Yadav smiled and closed his eyes.

He didn’t open them again.

[tinycoffeebarbarian]

The Cold Fire

Fana was burning. She knew that. But didn’t know if she had it in her to stop it. The elven fire within didn’t want to stop. Gods was it hot. But somehow, her teeth couldn’t stop chattering. Somehow, she couldn’t uncurl herself from the small ball her body had formed, lest the cold swallowed her whole.

He had done this. Salazar. He had plunged a sword in Emma’s throat.

Right. In. Front. Of. Her. So cold. Why was it so cold? Couldn’t Balthazar get her a blanket like he always did? He would chide her for being so childish, “ A queen must present herself to be a fierce warrior, not an eight-year-old babe. Why don’t you wear the winter suit Lady Diana got you? But in the end, he would get the blanket nonetheless, as he had done for the last twenty-five years of her life, with a twinkle in his single eye and a smile on his weathered old face, as he put it around her shoulders. So cold. No, Neil Balthazar would never smile and get her a blanket again. Helga Thomson had seen to that.

Why was it so cold?

She felt tears running down her cheeks, but none of the relief of sobbing came. Just a hollow black. Eating her whole. The Silverfire in her veins burnt with enough ferocity to devour the whole of Varia. What good are you now? She asked her Elven heritage. Did her hands always shake this much?

Emma. Sweet, sweet Em. Emma Windsworth. The love of her life. Her wife. Dead.

Em, sweet lovely Em, the one person her age who didn’t scowl at her pointed ears, the one person who didn’t mock her lack of control over her Fire. The one person who saw what lay beneath her skin, and loved her all the more for it. The one person who saw all of her, and still chose to hold her hand and kiss her. How were Mother and Father? Did the assassins get them too? Or did Captain Tiberius get to them in time? She wasn’t sure if she had it in her to care anymore. She remembered seeing Balthazar’s expression as Helga plunged a dagger into his heart. “R..un.” And then, Neil’s eyes that seemed to be always alight with a calming beautiful fire, went black.

She couldn’t even cry out, it happened so fast, she just remembered Emma grabbing her hand, and running. Neil was dead. She kept seeing the last swing of the blade. Em had always been the best warrior in the city, but in front of Salazar’s death chant, even she had fallen.

Her beloved had lied. Em had lied. She said she would come back to her. She said that she would be okay. Emma Windsworth had lied. She understood now. Her wife had known she wouldn’t survive. She had just wanted Fana to get out, to run. To give her queen a chance.

If only Fana had been as deadly with the sword as Emma, maybe they could have found a solution. Maybe, Em wouldn’t have a Cursed Blade in her neck right now. She had, first out of shock, started to walk towards the hidden exit. Then without thinking, she turned back, back towards her love.

A thud.

A malicious laugh.

The inevitable sound of Lady Death walking towards them.

Then the plunge.

Fana saw Em’s eyes as she walked away with Lady Death.

They seemed to be looking at her. Pleading her to run. The Queen of the 21 realms fell to her knees. And let go. She saw through tear-filled eyes, Salazar running. The fire that had tormented her for twenty-five long years demanded to be heard. It screamed. It roared. It hungered for blood. But there was no blood to shed. Only emptiness. Maybe the God’s for once pitied her. For the cold flames didn’t touch her lovely, lovely Emma. Emma, who now had a True Obsidian sword in her throat. The fire covered everything, her favorite chair, the bed, her paintings. Everything. But it failed to warm her even a little.

The Queen stayed there. Sitting across her beloved. For days, months, seconds, Fana didn’t know, time made no sense anymore.

And then, her heart, a broken, dead, and cold thing, melted.

It melted.

And forged into something new.

Into something hard.

Into something sharp.

Into something deadly.

Into something, strong.

She took Em’s hand and kissed it. She would have her revenge. The Monarch stood up.

It wasn’t so cold anymore.

[tinycoffeebarbarian]

The Hollow Man

The Man will come one day.

Smiling. Smiling. Smiling.

But don’t you look at the mirror.

Dear children of mine.

Please,

Do not glance at the mirror.

He will smile at you.

He will grin at you.

He will tell you sweet nothings.

But don’t you look at the mirror.

Dear children of mine.

Please,

Do not glance at the mirror.

He is the father of the things that hide in your closet.

The things that live under your bed.

The hands that seem to want to grab your feet at night…

All, Answer to him.

But don’t you look at the mirror.

Dear children of mine.

Please,

Do not glance at the mirror.

His rotting breath and bright teeth will be the last thing you see If you, my Darlings, open your eyes to peep.

Fear my Children,

The Hollow Man.

2:45

Rani was awake. And It was not her face looking back at her in the mirror.

12:05

Heat. A foul-tasting mouth.A dry throat.Ugh.Rani was awake. She threw her blanket across her room. Squinting in the darkness she tried reaching for her water bottle. It took her a few seconds. It had been knocked over and had rolled under her bed. After a few tries, she finally got it to open. The familiar grip of the blue Tupperware bottle calmed her like it always did. It had been with her when her sister died. Then when her mother had. And finally, when she had caught Vinoj cheating on her. She smiled at the bottle.“Just you and me buddy.” The bitterness actually stung. She put the bottle down and turned to sleep. As she tossed around trying to get comfortable (something that was oddly so hard at times, the body that seemed to be content dozing away just a moment ago seemed to now scream for movement) she kicked her bottle by mistake, spilling its contents to the marble floor. Muttering a curse under her breath, Rani closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

12:20

Rani awoke. But not in the way you wake up to brush your teeth and drink your coffee, she awoke in the way you wake up when your body tells you something is wrong, deeply, deeply wrong, but can’t quite pin down on what it is. She woke up because a deep primal instinct told her something. Something important. It told her to run.

The first thing Rani Singh noticed was the smell.A rancid, putrid, vomit-inducing smell.A smell that would make rotting meat smell like a perfume.A smell that instilled such horror in the woman’s heart, that she couldn’t turn. Then, the knocking began.

Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.

The demonic knocking made Rani flinch every time.

Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.

12:45

Then came the voices. The broken and mangled voice of her mother.“ Why wasn’t it you? Why didn’t you die instead? Why was it my Priya? WHY? Aren’t you going to even look at me? You ungrateful little girl. I knew you wanted me dead from the start!”LOOK AT ME!”

Tears.Hot and salty. An already broken heart, breaking again. The beautiful airy voice of her soft-spoken sister.“ Didi, I know you loved me. Please come and hug me. It’s so cold here. So very very cold. Look at me, please.Look.At.ME.WHY WON’T YOU LOOK AT ME! I knew it. The tumors did make me ugly, didn't they? You lied didn't you? You won’t even look at me now, am I that abhorrent to look at? Just look at me please.” Rani’s lips trembled. Her eyes had no tears to shed. It was so difficult to breathe. Her chest was so hollow. Her body was exhausted.

1:30

Years passed, maybe minutes, or were they seconds? Rani didn’t know. The cold lonely wraith of a woman had nothing left to give now. Tears long shed. Snot running down her cheeks. Her glance fell to the puddle of water near the Bluebottle. The promises of the dead faded away. And fear like nothing Rani had ever felt enveloped her. There in the mirror, stood a man. A man covered in darkness. A hand shriveled like that of a hag’s. Its face, mercifully still unseen. He was doing this. That, that thing was doing this to her. She just needed to look at him. That would make it go away.Yes.It would all go away. But her heart now made of glass, kept breaking. Strong, no more. Rani closed her eyes. And let them speak.

2:00

She couldn’t take it anymore. Rani began dragging herself towards the mirror.She.Had. To.See.She could vaguely feel something telling her to run away, but the sounds of her mother cutting her wrists drowned the voice out.

2:30

Her body was so tired. She was nearly there. She would see the man. And he would make it go away. Yes, the Hollow Man was good. He would save her. He would love her.

2:40

Yes, she was nearly there. She was smiling.

2:45

Rani looked, and the smile vanished. There stood a man with pale skin. Paler than any being should be. His teeth extended from one ear to another. Rani couldn’t sob. Couldn’t run. She could just watch as the Hollow Man stepped out of the mirror and reached for her. Ms. Singh closed her eyes, and let the pain begin.

3:00

Fear my Children,

The Hollow Man.