Sympathetic Magic
She was playing with him. He carried his
sister on his legs. He chortled every time as he winded her to and fro through
the cold air. The littlest angel in the heaven was giggling as her weightless
body was all up, on the balance of his knee. She dropped herself and fell on
his stomach laughing with her randomly sized teeth. He tickled her. The laugh
of the bean echoed. Her baby teeth let her giggle be as important as to be
recorded in a box full of hearts. The next day, they grew up.
They fought over a remote. She hit that
growing body. He hit her back. She whimpered and let him get an earful from
their parents for the mistake he had not done. He boiled and never talked to
her. Her little hands touched his and she asked for forgiveness and looked into
his eyes. He threatened her that his fist would soon be on that face of hers.
The little creature of his complained that he was not talking. She went over to
him again and kept calling him until he couldn’t control his laughter. The girl
chuckled and it was like rain to the driest of the driest lands. The next day,
they grew up.
He was running through the corridors to
escape from her. The mini form of troublesome was chasing him. She caught him
and held him by his collar. He lifted her and pushed her away as he started to
bolt towards the sofa. The girl shouted at him and chased him again. The couch
let some distance apart them which was soon covered. She seized his shirt and
soon created haste by rolling on the floor with him and then she called out,
“Game over!” The next day, they grew up.
He studied. The boy was no longer playing
with her. The little girl was no longer the same naughty little dangerous
creature. He had a flask of tea stored for him every time he studied late
night. His books were in his captivity now. He stopped talking to everyone near
him. He studied and only studied. His marks arrived. The house glistened with
joy. The next day, they grew up.
The music played, to his ears. The
earphones were ruling him. The light of the phone reflected on his face. That
light was disguising itself as the light he himself had. The light she could
give him. Those eyes were busy enough not to love her.
Those hands were not there to hold her
anymore. His back was not there to carry her anymore. The corridors were not
filled with their cries anymore. The couch could not see them play anymore. The
cold air could not hear their hilarity anymore. They could not see any half
broken remotes anymore. Their lives couldn’t see themselves anymore.
They
did not know what the destiny has in store for them anymore now.
…
They were not “them” anymore.
And so, they grew up.
That's very deep....I loved what you've written. Makes me think of my little sister.
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