My very own piece of prose, titled 'Ghost'.
Ghosts
Night beckoned. The chill of the winter-cold night breezes past me, but it did not vex me, although I resolved to accommodate it in my stride with pride.
Presently I heard a scream- And I knew it was the scream of mortal terror, which implanted itself into the stricken hearts of many; mine in particular. It was not a groan of pain or grief- No! It was the stifled, uncontrolled sobbing of a fragility at work.
I knew the sound well. Many a night, when the rest of the world slept, it had welled up from my own anxiety, intensifying, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me unlike any other. I could feel what she felt; deeply underneath, even in death she was overwhelmed by this inexplicable sadness. She had tried to comfort herself with meaningless suppositions; however they were in vain as Death had been in dealing her fate. It was cruel; yet life still went on all the same. And it was the weight of her unprecedented actions, the guilt of denying her male foetus of a father, now even his life that betrayed her in deepest consequence that caused her to feel thus.
Those compelled cries could be felt in my heart, even though others could not hear them. But they were not hers. This time it was different. It was the voice of a young innocent crying out to me, as if he was gnawing at me to accomplish something. I scarcely breathed, holding the light motionless, with Death in accordance.
Now at the dead hour of night, when all is but long gone amid the dreadful silence of those long abandoned railway tracks, there was so eccentric a noise that incited me with insatiable curiosity. Yet, in spite of this, I refrained and stood my ground. But the hovering noise grew louder- louder I say! Then I thought my vessels might burst from the gloomy vestiges of this forsaken, desolate place. And so I trudged on without further contemplation, for fear that sounds might divert me from my true destination.
The coarse-grained rocks bellowed at me from beneath the ground, where railways tracks covered some of them. Where were the muffled sounds coming from? I spun around, hearing voices incomprehensibly in my head. I moved onto the tracks, suddenly – held there by the very ghost of her, moving yet unmoved.
“SWOOSH!”, as a train passes over these seemingly death tracks. Now I knew why - she wanted me to be his father all along.
A shorter version
Every night.
He would hear screams.
It was, at the railway tracks near his house.
She was pregnant.
Her child wanted him now.
He had to fulfill that calling.
Trapped by his own secluded thoughts,
Held there by the very ghost of her.
As a train passes over these seemingly death tracks.
P.S One of my very old works from sec 3, sent for the writing competition 'Inspire 07'. Didn't win anything but i really liked this piece. Now my passion for writing has seem to subsided, i no longer write like i used to. Hopefully i can rediscover that passion soon.
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