Moments are departing into a puff of dusty afternoon. I'm standing in the kitchen, watching aimlessly into the boiling bowl placed over the gas-oven fire. There's water in the bowl, spitting bubbles up and down vigorously. I dropped two shelled eggs into the water gently and waited for nobody.
Water, water everywhere... bubbling water on the gas, dripping water from the sink tap, nasty scented feculent water falling from the ridge roof somewhere in the neighbourhood, condensed spiral marks of water beneath the glass jug placed on my bedside table... and a pool of blood covered all around the floor in the living room. I'm wondering outside, brooding over something vague, humming prayers incorporating into a set of nursery rhymes. My fingers are dancing around the edges of the kitchen slab lazily. Suddenly they stopped. I bring them close to my nose, sniffed them, and they still do have the stale smell of dried up bloodstains. I thought about scrubbing it again with another layer of foam infused with lime and jasmine. Weird juxtapose it is. But I leave it right there as it is. I lifted the knife, still beaming with warm blood. I strolled back to the living room, to the spot of the blood puddle.
I dragged myself to the red pool. I was feeling lighter than the clouds. I sat down. I could feel my life beaming down silently. I am looking at my lover's corpse grunting in pain; coming out, due to his slit neck. I gripped my knife more tightly and squashed it further inside his throat way harder, to see him wince a little violently. His eyes were blurting out as if it is going to explode and fester out like a handful of minced coconut. Was he trying to grab me and smash my face into dust? I stand up on my knees, lowered my panties, did him as well, lifted myself and thrust. I kept thrusting up and down. Kept doing that vigorously for a while then saw him dead. I bent over his cold blood-soaked terror-filled face and gazed at him for some time. Then I bite his lower lip and left him to shrink into a muddle of nothingness. I wandered around the house motionlessly. I kept reminiscing about our days spent on the beaches during late autumn. I remember running my fingers through his hair which used to stick together for the ocean water and sunburns on his face along with sand over his shoulder and breath. They enticed me to rock bottom.
Well, I could have resisted myself from killing him and let him splatter like an ant into the mud. I could have. But I didn't desire it to if I must say. It was getting cold outside. I went to bathe and forgot to clean the lounge and get rid of him. I came out and went to the kitchen. I was roasting a chicken with thyme, garlic, butter, herbs and spices in the oven for a while now. I switched on my stereo system and played the song "I'd rather go blind" and kept humming along with the tune. It might start to snow outside as it is windy now. I looked around to find my former lover's corpse in the lounge. He wasn't there now. It was all spotless now. The oven made a chime and I looked for my oven gloves to take out our dinner. I take the tray of chicken and put it atop the table. My lover was reclining a little distant from the dining area. Smiling. Blood was dripping from his neck on the floor. He asked me to light up candles around the house. I told him to hang himself from the ceiling so that I can see him die again..... It started to snow outside. Gushes of wind along with dead tree branches kept striking the windowpane hard. I sighed out and turned around to see my lover's corpse hanging like a pendulum from the vault. The smile was still there like an aftertaste of chardonnay. The howling of the snowy winds creeps the neighbourhood like a graveyard. Suddenly I heard someone was walking upstairs. I climbed above and find my lover walking alone in the corridor as if he was looking for something. "Well," I thought "it's an old habit of his to look for his belongings cause he always kept them losing, like the way he lose me.." Suddenly he stopped after realising my presence there and turned around to ask me, "Why are you holding me back? You obsessive bitch!? Leave me. Let me go. Kill me! Kill me! You fucking cunt. Kill...." I rushed towards him and smashed his head with a hammer I picked up while I climbed up here. He grunts and trembled like a paralysed puppy for some time. Then he remained there like a fallen angel with feathers of a raven. I stroked my fingers through his hair. My favourite.
Suddenly I heard somebody was at the door knocking. I rushed down. My lover was again not to be seen there anymore.
I opened the door to welcome my lover who was out of town. He greeted me with a smirk and a peek on my cheek. He used to bring flowers and candles once. Now he bought a packet of condoms and smell of adultery. He forced himself inside blabbering rubbish as usual, maybe complemented the dinner by its smell coming from the kitchen. I remained standing at the threshold for a while. Then I turned around. Asked him, "what was his favourite colour?" out of the blue. He was not surprised and fumbled out saying "red.." while stuffing the bits of chicken into his mouth I have cooked. I dragged myself towards him. Maybe tonight is the night honey. I will paint you red and with affections. I love you, darling. Now you should sleep forever. Forever.
-Shrestha Mukherjee. 🌻
