Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust- Symbols Part V: On Trust and the Present

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to throw away;

A time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate;
A time for war, and a time for peace.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

The tree was old; its big green leaves cast thick, liquid shadows.  She stood up straight and brushed the dirt from her knees as she tried to focus through the haze of tears. Was that someone there? Under the tree?

She blinked furiously, wanting to clear her eyes without letting that image out of her sight even for a moment. Her eyes widened. It was him. Oh Dear God. What manner of trickery was this? Putting a hand on her chest she felt her heart thumping with… excitement? Fear?

On unsteady legs, she strode towards the tree and the figure waiting beneath it.

And fate.

**********

Morning

He had held her hand and told her not to worry.

‘I’ll be back before you know it,’ he said.

He left.

The trembling set in. The kind that comes from deep within. She lowered herself onto the floor. Gathering her legs to herself, she wrapped her arms around them and stared at the door with empty eyes. She hated these separations.

**********

Noon

The news came on the wings of the devil.

He was dead.

The creditors came to repossess the house.

The neighbor offered to let her live under his roof for ‘services’

That was the only time she felt hot tears of rage.

‘Why? Why me? Why’ve you left me destitute? Alone? WHY?’

That night she couldn’t find a place to rest. The fog was drifting in and a chill settling on the land. Every hole in her clothes was suddenly making its presence felt.

She couldn’t find a place so she sneaked into the only place where she could be close to her beloved. The Cemetery.

Nearing the grave, she heard the rain before she felt it- physical feeling, after all, was not something she consciously chose to acknowledge these days. Hunger, pain, chills… what were they but afterthoughts of consciousness in the larger scheme of things? She reached his grave and her legs gave way- she sat there on her knees rocking back and forth.

The noise. It was the first thing that actually cut across her trance. Suddenly, the awful noise of rain seemed to be exploding all around her; little hailstones pounding the ground in anger. Silence. She needed some silence. A place of shelter from this noise- it was driving her to distraction.

The tree was old; its big green leaves cast thick, liquid shadows.  She stood up straight and brushed the dirt from her knees as she tried to focus through the haze of tears. Was that someone there? Under the tree?

She blinked furiously, wanting to clear her eyes without letting that image out of her sight even for a moment. Her eyes widened. It was him. Oh Dear God. What manner of trickery was this? Putting a hand on her chest she felt her heart thumping with… excitement? Fear?

On unsteady legs, she strode towards the tree and the figure waiting beneath it.

And fate.

**********

Night

The gardener found her in the morning, curled up under the willow. Frozen. Dead.

He trundled to the phone to call the cemetery’s ‘Supervisor and Manager’… Bless, what fancy names they had for everything these days.

She was buried in an unmarked grave; a lost soul. Or a woman of ill repute. Who knows?

By the time they were finished burying her, sunlight was fading fast. The gardener shrugged and started to snip at the roses again.  The end of another day.

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This entry was posted in Dear Diary, Family, marriage, Rants, Sad, Specy and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

25 Responses to Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust- Symbols Part V: On Trust and the Present

  1. Ag says:

    This is scary. Why is it tagged Specy and marriage? And family? Is everything alright? Duas.

  2. Salman Latif says:

    It’s captivating – the way you write it.
    Even when it’s a simple story, it makes itself felt.
    Hope the despondency never seeps in to your life. 🙂

  3. Saadat says:

    Finally, an Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust post. Extremely well written, as always.

    But I echo Ag. Why the tags ‘Family’, ‘Specy’, and ‘marriage’?

  4. Minerva says:

    Posts like these always have symbols that go beyond what you can blog about.

    So whatever it is you’re going through – hope you get through it in one piece.

  5. pinkkay says:

    *sigh* sometimes i feel the same way


    just cant express it this well 😀

  6. Specs says:

    Ag and Saadat, Minerva’s right on the money here… there’s little else to say… and I didn’t relate a real-life story with it this time like I usually do in this series because I feel its self explanatory without putting it into too plain a post. And thank you, Minerva

    Salman Latif Good to know you enjoyed the read and thanks for the good wishes!
    Pinkkay– Glad it made good reading and hmm, so you get it, huh?

  7. shawnamawna says:

    Lovely writing. Warmest wishes for you. And love.

  8. nadia says:

    Why did you make her die too? 😦

    PS: If you ever get a novel published, I’ll be the first to buy.

  9. Humaira says:

    That was captivating. The way you use language to evoke images was haunting and beautiful. Thank you for sharing.

  10. iMuslim says:

    I agree, haunting.

  11. The graveyard scene I know too well 😥
    Beautifully written Specs.

  12. Lat says:

    Your story(almost real) expresses the ironies of life one goes thru esp so if it’s a woman,an easy prey to society.Why some men chosen to be leaders get to stay back and enjoy the ‘services’ of women left behind and rear an army full of ‘herds’ is an infair situation to me.Centuries gone by and still we’re a diseased lot 😦 May God save us from everything that is sick!

    Good work,Specs!

  13. Leena S. says:

    this is one of most well written posts i have read recently. i just hope everything’s alrite with you and will get better with time Insha Allah. May Allah bless you *hugs*

  14. Alisha says:

    Beautiful!

  15. tabendah says:

    Brilliant!

  16. Susi Spice says:

    yo yo guess who on my blog roll……..

  17. Haleem says:

    Reminds me of the Kite Runner.

  18. Haleem says:

    Really lovely series and story. You have great writing skills!

  19. Alisha says:

    I re-read the old posts and was captivated. I always think that when someone struggles to get ‘there’, it’s always worth every second of that torture he/she is put through. Nothing builds character than those struggles. I am honored to say that I know of such a person. Keep rocking.

  20. Alisha says:

    You wrote in one of your posts that self-pity is the most destructive emotion of all…I have enough experience to say that it’s one hundred percent true.

  21. you ve left me a little awkward, i just hope what you r going thru finds a way to get out

  22. Specs says:

    Thanks for reading and commenting, everyone

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