White Noise

It started out as a light drizzle. Little dark brown spots speckled the earth, growing in size as the rain fell harder. Fé stared out the window, eyes blurring until the school grounds swirled in a hazy mix of muted colours. Her textbook lay open on page 54, detailing complex theorems, which their teacher was replicating on the blackboard.
She sat at the back, as usual, her gaze half lingering on an empty seat two rows ahead. Her pencil made a point on her notebook, unmoving, as if waiting for the rain to finish dictating before it copied down its message. A sudden gust of wind sprayed water through the rusted bars of the ancient windows, splattering her desk. Some girls sitting next to her shrieked, in turns asking or ordering her to close the window before they all got soaked.
Fé merely ignored them, locking away the foreign sounds of the classroom in a corner of her mind. Her ears were tuned in to the noise of the pounding downpour, straining to hear something, a whisper, an indication. Something. Against her will, she looked at the empty seat out of the corner of her eyes, pleading for reassurance.
But all she could feel was the world around her threatening to drown out the low murmur she was trying so hard to decipher. Her hand trembled on her page. She dismissed it as a reaction to the cold rain that was currently drenching her.
“God, Fé, would you please shut the window, we’re drowning here!” someone wailed.
She didn’t hear them. She blinked at her notes. A small raindrop was collected around her pencil point, slowly dissolving the peripheral graphite. She watched the little grey flecks swim in the little pool, entranced. Another raindrop appeared just beneath it. She gently dabbed her fingertip in it, faintly surprised at its warmth. What an unusual raindrop, she thought, unaware of the moist line running down her cheek.
An annoyed classmate was about to get up to close the window when an arm reached out to stop him.
“What?” he asked, very annoyed.
“Don’t. Just, just let her be, alright?” responded a worried voice.
“You don’t think that…look, it’s been three months since Abigail…well, you know. She should be over that by now,” he concluded, slightly unconvinced himself.
“They were best friends, it’s…hard for her. Just let it go.”
He looked over at Fé, shrugged and subsided.
Fé pretended like she hadn’t heard the hushed conversation, and a little angrily, turned her gaze heavenwards, questioning the selfish grey clouds that hovered low on the horizon.
She vaguely acknowledged the bell that marked the end of classes, playing the shuffling sounds of students leaving in her head while resolutely staring outside.
She didn’t know how long she sat there, kept company only by the rain, and the empty seat, made conspicuous by the fact that it would remain so for a very long time. Perhaps she wouldn’t be around long enough to watch someone replace the last person who sat there. Maybe she’d have to spend her life with the memory of a void that would remain unfilled.
Finally, she rose, turning her back to the classroom. She faltered at the doorway. She clenched her eyes shut as she whispered softly, “I’ll see you…” tomorrow, she’d meant to say, like she did every single day for the past three months, dreading the lie, at the same time depending on it to assuage her grief, even if temporarily. She couldn’t. The word died in her throat. She began taking quick strides away from the door, running down the hallway, and out in the rain. Her breath heaved in ragged gasps, but as hard as she tried, she couldn’t seem to outrun the deafening silence that encapsulated her, imprisoning her in an endless tempest.

Once Upon A Light Year

It was a thoroughly ordinary day aboard the SS Vesuvius, champion of Earth’s starship fleet. Complicated machines beeped and hummed, the crew shuffled back and forth between their menial duties. Outside the Captain’s office, the higher-ranking officers also went about their work. But all was not normal here in the spacious control room. A heavy cloud seemed to weigh down on them, as gloomy and depressive as a half-hearted storm which doesn’t quite have enough fuel to find release.
They worked with funereal enthusiasm; listlessly processing data reports, pushing buttons which blinked with half their characteristic brilliance. Things would have progressed in a similarly bleak manner if it weren’t for the assiduous Lieutenant Daniel Sawyer, who decided to tackle the source of this dreariness and bring back the spark in his precious colleagues’ lives.
He stood up, his features set in determination, and walked heedlessly towards the maelstrom. His comrades stared at him as if in a trance, expressing varying degrees of concern, fear and hope.
“Don’t,” he raised his hand to silence their pleas, “It has to be done. We can’t go on like this,” his voice quivered on the last note.
A warm hand squeezed his shoulder, bolstering him, “Be strong, Danny,” Second Lieutenant Ururu Obotti whispered.
Nodding decisively, he strode to the captain’s office and knocked on the door none too lightly.
Silence.
Sawyer knocked again, and thought he heard a faint sigh.
“Captain, I’d like to have a word with you,” he announced.
More silence, followed by more sighing.
“Are the Gorgons attacking?”
“No, but-”
“Is the lumilator malfunctioning again?”
“Well, not really, but-”
“Are you getting those warts again on your-”
“Really, Captain!” interrupted a slightly red-faced Sawyer, “This has gone on far too long, I must let you know that you’re depressing the entire crew with your dismal attitude and that you’re being very unsporting about this whole affair.”
Everyone hung on to this exchange with bated breath, straining to hear the Captain’s response. Sawyer tried to ignore a curious voice that wondered aloud about where exactly his warts were bothering him.
Tentatively, Sawyer opened the door and peeked in. What he saw made his heart ache with pity. His idol, his mentor, his beloved Captain was languishing in his chair, watching his pet hamster Lily snoring on the papers he was supposed to sign three days ago.
“Captain,” he implored softly.
“I miss her Danny boy. Alas, why is it that all great romances are fated to end in tragedy?” he asked in a small voice.
“But sir, she’s…she’s their Princess, and well…the consequences of your union, sir!” Sawyer beseeched, trying to be the voice of reason.
“Ah, Danny, Danny, Danny,” he began with his standard dramatic flair, “You are so young, so ignorant about love. I hope you’ll understand some time, it isn’t everyday your true love walks into your life…oh, the heartbreak. Love, she is cruel, giving you hope, that one chance, and then snatching it all…”
Being used to his Captain’s soliloquies, Sawyer choose this moment to indulge in thoughtful reverie. All of a sudden, he straightened and left the Captain lamenting to no one in particular. Closing the door behind him, he faced his colleagues, who looked up at him expectantly.
“So, is he still in mourning?” asked Samson Mckennon, Data Analyst.
“Worse. He’s reciting poetry about doomed love affairs to Lily,” Sawyer looked around gravely.
“We have to do something, anything,” Mimi Defrou fretted. As for her post, well, no one’s quite sure. She’s presumably one of those token curvaceous women whose job is to look fabulous in a tight red uniform.
“I’ve been giving this some thought,” Sawyer began hesitantly, “The Captain, he’s done a splendid job, very honourable, and well, he’s been a good Captain. And he’s getting on in age, so I was just thinking, he’s supposed to retire soon anyway, and I hate the idea of him wasting away, lonely and miserable, with no one to care for him…”
“No one to remind him to eat his vegetables,” Ururu added.
“No one to force him to exercise,” Samson pitched in.
“No one to talk to except Lily…” Sawyer trailed off.
This last comment was too much for everyone to bear. Mimi burst into tears. Samson saw his opportunity and rushed off to comfort her, ensconcing her in his eager arms. Sawyer cleared his throat loudly.
“Listen! I have a plan to get them together,” he yelled over the mass hysteria.
The sobbing stalled, the murmuring subsided, and all eyes were focused on him once again.
With a deep breath, Sawyer told them of his plans, what later came to be called ‘Operation Save Captain from Self-Destruction’, or OSCS for convenience.

* * *

After much plotting and more scheming, the four dedicated crew members of the lovesick Captain William Deverell and some other extraneous unimportant helpers had devised the perfect plan, and were currently in the process of orchestrating it.
It was a setting rather similar to the beginning in the control room, except the storm clouds that were hanging over them were crackling with energy, spurring everyone into action.
Unable to wallow by himself, the Captain decided to make a rare appearance among them. Unfortunately for him, they were rather absorbed at that moment. The Captain felt distinctly ignored while everyone rushed around him, triggering another attack of self-pity in the pining depths of his heart.
“For the love of God, Captain, could you please sit down somewhere, you’re in the way!” Sawyer barked, finally reaching his breaking point. He immediately caved into guilt and remorse when he saw the wounded expression on the Captain’s face.
“Please sit down, sir. Trust me, you’ll know what’s going on soon enough. What’s our position?” he yelled out at the navigator.
“21.3 light years to Andromeda, sir!”
“Good, Buxley, prepare the vessels. Right, Captain. Ururu, you and I will be taking the space vessel to Alencia. We already sent word to Princess Shaila through a reliable source, she will be waiting for you. I’ve made arrangements for the two of you to escape to Isen, you’ll be taken care of there. Here, I’ve written down what you need to do somewhere…no, memorize this, just in case. Oi, you, what the bleeding hell do you think you’re doing?” he stalked off to berate a stumbling subordinate.
“Sawyer,” the Captain called feebly, and was ignored once again. A little indignantly, he called out again. No response. This time, he snapped, “Sawyer!”
Looking the Captain dead in the eye, Sawyer answered calmly, “Captain, you have never let us down in all the years we’ve served the Enterprise. I ask that you let us do our part in returning the favour.”
“Danny, do you realise what this could potentially result in? You will all be court martialed for conspiracy, I will be stripped of my rank and possibly worse, and Shaila - I shudder to think what her people would do to her,” his voice trembled.
“I told you Captain, it’s taken care of. You and Shaila will live an anonymous life with untraceable identities in Isen in relative peace and comfort. We have fake medical reports that will certify your, ah, demise, due to a deadly toxic virus that accidentally made its way…never mind that, the important thing is, everything’s taken care of. We just ask that you let us help you, it’s the least we can do,” Sawyer concluded.
“You’re not exactly giving me a choice, are you Danny boy?” the Captain sighed.
“No, sir, I’m not.”
Captain William Deverell was not a man of few words. He was unabashedly garrulous by nature. But for once in his life, he was speechless. He was unbearably moved. At the same time, he was torn between his desire to see the fruition of his love, and to do his duty. So, he merely looked at his trusted Lieutenant with moist eyes, and said quietly, “Thank you.”
Sawyer gave a small smile, and nudged him along, preparing to board the vessel.
Everyone bid their hurried, tearful goodbyes, alternately wishing the Captain good luck and thanking him profusely.
Sawyer set off first, and Ururu followed with the Captain in tow. The whole universe seemed to just zip past; stars, planets and moons all morphing into each other. The minutes flew by so quickly that all the Captain could do when they landed on a deserted cove was blink in surprise.
“We’re here?” he asked uncertainly.
“Yes, Captain,” Ururu said kindly, and squeezed his arm.
“They’re here, come on, we have to hurry,” Sawyer said urgently, appearing along with two cloaked figures.
One of the cloaked figures gave a half-sob as she prepared to launch herself into the Captain’s waiting arms. They embraced tightly, and dissolved in sweet mutterings of love. The onlookers waited patiently for a few moments before scooting them along.
“Captain. Princess,” he bowed a little, “You have to hurry. Captain,” he breathed deeply, “You know what to do. You and the Princess go first, Ururu and I will follow you till the end of the quadrant, and once you get to Isen, please send us a message to assure us of your safe arrival.”
“I shall, my dear boy,” the Captain pumped his hand, “I could never thank you enough, all of you. I…as an expression of my gratitude, I would like you, Danny, to have my Lily,” at this he started tearing up, “Take good care of her.”
Sawyer flinched yet tried to smile as if to say, “I’m honoured”, but instead he just looked like he was having indigestion. Severe indigestion.
“And Ururu, you can have my Kaftan, the one with the purple paisley work, and I want Mckennon to have my harpsichord…as for Mimi, eh, she can have my collection of stamps,” he ended generously.
“You don’t have a collection of stamps, Sir,” Sawyer reminded him.
“Eh? Well, then buy her another red suit. I must say she looks rather-” Captain Deverell merely coughed and laughed nervously when he noticed his soon to be wife look at him pointedly. “Well, then, I guess this is goodbye,” he concluded brightly.
“Yes, well, good luck, Sir, have a happy life. And you too, Princess,” Sawyer bowed some more.
Ururu just sniffled and hugged the happy couple.
Amidst a lot of thanks and goodbyes, they shot their last looks at each other, and hopped into the vessels.
Later, as Sawyer and Ururu were en route to the mother ship, Ururu asked quietly, “You think it’ll work out?”
Sawyer seemed lost in thought as he contemplated the recent happenings.
Finally, he said, “I think so.”
A companionable silence settled over them.
“So,” Ururu drawled, “I take it you have a dinner date with the delectable Lily tonight?”
For propriety's sake, it would be safe to pretend that the rest of Sawyer’s words were lost in the blasting jet of the engine, and scattered across the skies interspersing with the stars as they made their way home, slightly heavy-hearted, yet for the most part, happy.

Just Like Sunshine

It was typical as far as weddings go. Loud, colourful, and an overall assault on all of one’s existing senses. A cursory glance would reveal people divided into the usual categories: the harried ones fervently rushing about, attempting to see to last-minute details; the relaxed ones, who lounged around exchanging betelnut and laughs; the furtive ones who tried not to look like grate-crashers drawn by the alluring scent of the lavish buffet; and finally, the bored ones. These were the ones who looked like they would just as soon stab their own eyes with a pen than use it to sign a congratulatory card addressed to the happy couple.One such member of this last category was currently scowling at his feet; albeit half-heartedly, for he had come to accept with stoic resignation the hopelessness of his situation. So absorbed was he in his troubles, that he did not immediately notice a small pair of feet with extremely fidgety toes parked at the periphery of his narrow view.
He directed his grimace towards the small offending toes, which cheerfully wiggled up at him. When the feet made no attempt to leave, he tiredly raised his gaze which rested upon the curious face of a little girl.When she made no attempt to speak, choosing only to solemnly observe him, he snapped, “What?”
“Nothing,” she mumbled, unfazed by the power of his withering stare.His silence, however, was mistakenly interpreted as interest, “You look like somebody died.”
A glare.
“I’m Gauri.”
Stony silence.
“Who are you, then?”
Never before had his fingernails looked so intriguing.
“You don’t have a name?”
Frustration mounted.
“Okay!” came the bright response, “I’ll just call you Bunty then!”
An extremely dangerous twitch below the eye.
“Bunty uncle? Hey, why won’t you say anything? Bunt-”
“Don’t call me Bunty uncle,” he managed through gritted teeth. The twitch aggravated.
“But you won’t tell me what-”
“Look, kid. Go away. Stop annoying me, and stop calling me stupid names and just leave me alone,” he glowered, and would have continued on his vehement rant if it weren’t for the sight of those unnaturally large brown eyes swimming in little pools of tears.He gaped in horror as her bottom lip quivered ever so slightly, and even her shiny black braids hung limply.
“No. No, no. Oh, no. Don’t cry. Ahh...hey, now, don’t cry little girl, I didn’t mean what I said…” he trailed off helplessly. He knelt in front of her and made wild waving motions with his hands; so acute was his despair, “Chirag, alright! My name is Chirag. You can call me Chirag Bhaiyya, how’s that? No, really, I’m too young to be your uncle…please, kid?”
Gauri sniffed, and rubbed her eyes with her knuckles, leaving black Kohl smudges around them. She regarded him seriously for a moment, before breaking into a wide grin, “Okay!”
Breathing normally once again, Chirag muttered under his breath, “That was fast.”
“What?” she chirped.
“I said you look like a raccoon,” he collapsed in his chair.
“What’s a raccoon?” she asked in a sing-song voice.
He merely sighed and shook his head.
“Chirag bhaiyya? You want to see something really nice?” she suddenly went still.
“Eh?”
Her eyes alight with an unsettling excitement, she began bouncing up and down, “Something wonderful! Come we’ll see it together!”
“What? No, I’d rather not-” he stopped abruptly when her mouth quivered ominously, “Don’t…”
She grabbed his hand and attempted to pull him up, “Come! Let’s go…please,” she looked up at him imploringly, and pouted a little for effect.
“That’s not fair, no puppy eyes, that’s…” the rest of his sentenced came out as a groan, as he reluctantly allowed himself to be abducted by the tenacious, raccoon-eyed girl,“What the – don’t you have family or something, wait, don’t run so fast, don’t-” the rest of his grievances were drowned out by her gleeful shouts as they weaved through tables and meandering waiters and crossed over the wedding grounds into the adjoining fields.
“Gauri, are you sure we should be-” Chirag started, trying to keep up with the object of his exasperation without tripping.
“You worry too much! That’s all you big people ever do – worry, worry, worry,” she interjected.
He searched his mind for a decent comeback but it was a tad bit too hard while dodging stray goats and trying not to trip over conveniently placed rocks, a hyper five year old, or his own shoes.They ran through green grass, which rippled under the soft, dancing breeze. It made quite a picture against the backdrop of distant mountains and deep blue sky. It was all lost on Chirag, however, who was still cursing his wretched fate, which was presently engaged in singing a made-up tune, punctuated by giggles.
Gauri slowed down from her rapid pace. They had reached a small incline so he couldn’t see what was beyond it.Heaving for breath, he looked at her questioningly.Only slightly breathless, she beamed up at him, “Close your eyes!”
“What?” he frowned.
“Please close your eyes Chirag bhaiyya, it’s a surprise!” she started bouncing again.
“Fine, fine,” he grudgingly agreed, wondering if he wished hard enough, he could disappear from this thoroughly unpleasant situation, “But don’t try anything funny, you hear?”
“Yes, yes…now hold my hand tight,” she started taking cautious steps so as not to ruin the surprise.
He smelled something he thought he recognized. Definitely organic. Unsurprising, considering they were in the country. He jumped as he felt his hands brush something that seemed to him to be tall stalks of…something.
“Okay, open your eyes now!”
Still frowning, Chirag slowly opened his eyes, and for a second, forgot to breathe.They were drowning in a yellow lake. A velvety yellow lake with brown dots.Chirag stared around him, engulfed by a sprawling thatch of sunflowers almost as tall as the annoying, yet persistent midget who was currently cutting off blood circulation in three of his fingers.“This is…” he looked down at his companion, and regretted it the moment he did.
She was smiling up at him, with all of her pearly white teeth seemingly illuminating her surroundings. And the sunflowers. To his dazed mind, it seemed as if they were all mirroring her action, leaning in towards him, beaming up at him in all their resplendent glory. So much yellow, surrounding a happy little girl with expectant eyes. Desperately, he fought for control of his faculties.The corner of his mouth quirked involuntarily.
“Just like sunshine, no, Chirag Bhaiyya?” she tugged his sleeve adorably, her cheeks dimpling.He knew he was fighting a losing battle. His fingers twitched in her hand.
Oh, what the hell.
“Yes, Gauri. Just like Sunshine,” he grinned down at her.

Desert Song

“Those men are staring at us. We should leave,” Reena muttered, pulling her bag closer to her as she warily eyed the group of men crouched in a circle, animatedly playing a game of cards.
Leah closed her eyes and rubbed at the headache that was threatening to take over, “The chai-wallah said it’ll be over in an hour or so.”
“Like he knows anything, he probably lied just so we’d stay here for a bit longer. Did you see the way he was looking at us? All of them,” she hissed, eyes darting around, filled with disdain.
“If you weren’t so absorbed in yourself, you’d have noticed he wasn’t looking at us like that, he’s just a simple villager-”
“Oh, so now you’re a defender of the poor? They’re just lazy, illiterate opportunists,” Reena interrupted, a spiteful gleam in her eye, “You never cease to amaze me. You have so much compassion for the poor, and none for those who care for you. Maybe Christopher was right.”
Her voice coldly polite, she asked, “About what, Reena?”
“You know what I’m talking about. You’re just a frigid, insensitive and lofty idealist. You’ve always been such a pretentious snob, Leah, even now, pretending like you care for them. Admit it, you don’t care for anyone but yourself,” her delicately beautiful face crinkled in righteous anger.
Leah gazed at her nails, face set in an inscrutable mask, “Maybe I don’t.”
Sputtering indignantly, Reena turned away in disgust.
The sandstorm raged outside, wind moaning with the sound of what Leah liked to think were the battle cries of men who’d fought to survive in this harsh land for hundreds of years. Perhaps if she listened closely, she might have heard the clatter of swords, and felt the tears of the women, resigned to watch from the sidelines, as those that they loved were lured away by the mournful song of the Desert Siren.
She gazed through the little gap in the walls at the tarpaulin that flapped wildly in the gale. The storm didn’t seem to dampen the enthusiasm that flowed inside the teahouse. Old men reminisced; the few little children were huddled in a corner playing with marbles, the even fewer women kept a watchful eye over them whilst exchanging village gossip. But for the most part, there were men, seeking refuge from a hard day’s work with a hot cup of tea and a lively gamble.
Much to her annoyance, Leah found herself enamoured by the life around her. Despite first impressions, here too there were formalities, a code, rules of conduct, but strangely, they didn’t seem as suffocating as she would expect. But then again, the grass always seemed greener on the other side.
A movement to her right caught her eye. Ignoring the restlessness of her companion, Leah watched, as a man cloaked heavily in a rough shawl, splashed water on to his face, which was gritty with sand.
He was surprisingly tall, a little over six feet. Wet strands of his unkempt black hair clung to his forehead. His skin was the colour of tanned leather. She watched the water drip down his strong chin, which was dotted with stubble.
Her eyes completely focused on him, she followed his large hands, which scrubbed his face clean, noticing the paler skin that stretched over his knuckles. In an impatient move, he tossed his shawl aside, revealing a traditional white kurta, which failed to conceal his strong build.
Unconsciously, her breathing grew shallower, as she mentally tried to envision what his body would look like underneath his garments. Wide shoulders, a strong chest, there was nothing about him that seemed weak. So lost was she, that she failed to notice that he was staring back at her.
His dark eyes pierced through her, as he continued rubbing his face with water, his long fingers passing over his frown. He was young, possibly around her own age.
Instead of deterring her, she blatantly returned his gaze, looking straight into his eyes, as if in challenge.
He momentarily paused, one hand still gripping the tumbler. As his frown deepened, he seemed to consider her, before slowly dipping his fingers into the tumbler.
He ladled a small amount of water out in his palm, and eyes unwavering from hers, touched his lips to his palm. Somehow, through the wet locks of hair covering his eyes, his intent still divulged itself. The corners of his mouth slowly curved upwards in a smirk, as if staking his claim over her.
His arrogance both enraged and exhilarated her. Her lips moved to mirror his sneer. Desire, so foreign, engulfed her. Absently, she noted the rhythmic beats of the blood pounding in her head, gazing at him as much in surprise as a brazen hunger.
As he continued watching her, his smirk turned into an amused grin, revealing pointed incisors.
She faintly smiled back at him, eyes still simmering.
With an almost imperceptible nod, he broke away from her gaze and sauntered away to join his companions at a crowded table.
She closed her eyes, still smiling as power hummed within her, igniting a painful need, for something more. Something as loose and reckless as the tempest, devoid of restraint. Her eyes only revealed a spark of the fire within her, ruthlessly under her control, for none to see and judge but those she deemed worthy.
No one would know of the comfort that she unexpectedly found in the honest eyes of a stranger, nor of the shameless understanding that passed between them, unsaid, yet acknowledged.
Perhaps, she mused, it was that quest for the extraordinary, for that something more, that had enticed so many men into the Siren’s arms. It was a sad song she intoned, that had endured freezing cold nights and blisteringly hot days, but it had sustained. And so had the few fortuitous travellers, who despite being weary from the journey, clung to life until they were rewarded with that very abandonment the capricious notes of her song offered.
For all the storms that she would have to endure, Leah knew then, that she would be one of those few fortunate travellers.


Note: This is a story I came up with after I asked a friend to give me three elements to base/include in the story, namely:lust, desert, and water.