**I am publishing my short story here which is an excerpt from a short novel I am working on (working on selling it really!!). I thought I would publish few excerpts on my other blog but since this is my most popular blog and gets good traffic I would also publish my short stories here. So here enjoy the first installment. Please note that this is copyrighted. You are not allowed to reproduce or copy it in part or in entirety. By all means contact me for comments, suggestions or if you’re a literary agent or a publisher! If you want to publish it on your print publication, let me know.
You’re welcome to link to this story from your blog or website but you cannot copy.
Let me say that this is a great honor to bring it to worthy readers who might come across this blog. God bless Internet for bridging the gap between a writer and his readers**
The Autumn Kiss
Readers, you might call this a narrative about a Gothic landscape, an autumn and a romantic confusion. But of course will I leave it to you.
If you don’t mind my weaving geographical yarns, I would like to mention a few things about the climes of Eden. The intensity of sunshine in Eden was about the same as Australia’s- Sydney also is almost 32 degrees (33.55S) away from equator, in the Southern Hemisphere. But of course, as I often do, I can’t help boasting that Eden and the larger region around it had the hottest summertime temperatures than any other densely populated big region. At summer’s peak this whole region blazed as hot as let’s say Riyadh, Baghdad and Phoenix, Arizona in July.
The winters in Eden didn’t have the dramatic weather like snowfall but still it could get really cold when nighttime temperatures could creep below freezing because of the continental climate. Short but cold winters really stood out as people were used to enduing extremely hot weather most of the year. It was by late November when most trees started to shed their frost-bitten, yellow, brittle leaves. After the trees had cast off all of their leafy cloaks, for a couple of months all you saw was a landscape dotted with odd ghostly bare trees that seemed to have given up on life and died forever. Poplar trees with their gigantic skeletons rising into the cold dull sky looked uniquely strange.
At night, frosts could occur. Another notable feature of the region’s winters was the thick fogs which sometimes seemed to linger and float for days, and you wouldn’t see any sunlight, but just a hoary pall of thick grey fog. At night when people were buried under piles of blankets, quilts to keep themselves warm, street dogs howled at the invisible moon that was blotted out by thickly frozen air. Many people said the dogs could see the life forms from the infernal regions. As the eerie howls resonated throughout the night people became uneasy and often chanted or muttered holy hymns to keep evil spirits away. It was all very unnerving and Gothic.
As for daytime fogs, they often escalated to become smog because of fires and coal heaters that poor folks used, to keep them from freezing. People found the sunless days very glum and depressing, especially as they were used to the long, hot, incandescent summers.
I must mention that in those days when the events of this story took place the region around Eden really didn’t seem crowded at all and there were plenty of secluded places even in big cities. By further accentuating this desolation the coldest winters and hottest summers days turned the Eden into a ghost town. Mothers warned their children that- if they were not careful and loitered about- most evil spirits can enter their bodies on cold winter nights and hot summer afternoons when they must stay indoors to be safe. Some kids were so spooked by these descriptions that they often confessed to having seen evil spirits swirling around thorny bushes and lonesome acacia trees or in the mirages that formed when ghostly vapors seemed to rise from the tar covered roads under the burning sun.
But now, with the breakneck increase in population and new constructions all that empty space that fed the imagination is lost and gone forever.
The most appealing thing about autumn and winter for me was the natural freshness and healing that cold brought to me. Most of the invasive insects, filthy house flies (that seemed to be everywhere all the time) and hideous lizards (that always terrified me for some reason) either died or hibernated when it was frosty. For these reasons I always found the cold very stimulating, relaxing and wholesome. And there were no more streams of sticky sweat, blisters and rashes on my skin from the fire that fell from sky for most of the year.
In cold weather, people wore woolen clothes and they looked well padded and cute, at least the cute ones did. I always loved the sweaters and my forbidding mother had the keenest eye for all sorts of expensive pullovers, Jerseys that would look gorgeous when they wrapped someone with my age, shape, size, skin tone, hair style etc. In a way, in the wintertime, my mother was the artist and I her work. For this reason, I always let her buy me sweaters even though in almost every other thing I just told her to stay out of my life and leave me alone.
But let’s get back to the big scandalous event of this story. It was autumn and I was happy. For some reasons that I cannot really remember, I and my friends and partners in wanton crimes the Twins were not going out anymore, for our illicit smoking expeditions. Maybe we did not find it very appealing to sit on some tree branch in the wilderness and brave the cold breezes. Maybe they were down with bad cold and fevers like many kids were at the onset of winters. Other than that it could also be that autumn was the time for exams in schools, so I might have been too busy sticking my head in the boring text books and hating mathematics, as always, which made no sense to me. But- against my wishes- the scary Mathematics text books always surrounded me, as did the lizards.
We had one general store that had recently opened up in the neighborhood that year. The young guy who owned and ran it had been displaying some imported fancy electronic gadgets in glass cases to entice many teenagers in the area. He showed us some cool, real clever but inexpensive things like a teddy bear who said he loved you if you poked him in the belly, a Christmas card that chimed with musical tunes when you opened it, electronic watches with hundred year calendars and many other features, Key rings that beeped in different tunes if you whistled near them (that way you could never lose your keys, was the idea), little electronic games that used any kind of light (sunlight, electric bulb or tube light) to run, instead of batteries, many small torches that produced colorful lights, intercom phones that could connect bedrooms to kitchens, so husbands could ring and order a cup of tea from their wives who toiled in the kitchen; it could be the other way round in case of henpecked husbands. In short it was an amazing array of little gadgets. The wonderful and affordable red dot laser pointers would not arrive in Eden for at least 5 more years.
This day is clearly etched in my memory. I had bought a really dandy looking calculator with a big screen from the shop. It showed huge digits and gave out a tinkling sound as you pressed any key. Boy was I excited! To begin with I was so stupid at Math and it made me very angry when I could never solve the text book problems fast enough, as I took ages doing calculations. Besides, my answers were often wrong. I pained me to realize that unlike literature and many other subjects if you’re off the mark doing maths then you’ve lost the whole game no matter how much hard work you put into it. And I don’t even want to talk about square roots, LCM (lowest common multiple), HCF (Highest common factor), the multiples, the divisibles and such Mathematical metaphysical claptrap! In short, this calculator was not only so jazzy but it could also carry me through a lot of crap with least possible pain to my literature loving, moony and imaginative brain cells.
I had just asked my angel of a father that I needed the contraption. He dipped his hand in some small leather bag, handed me bunch of bills and said, ‘‘Sure! And here is extra money. Buy more stuff that you may like and also candy, chewing gum, soft drinks whatever you want prince!’’
So, this is how the calculator was in my hands that made me ecstatic, proud and relieved. The evening was a bit chilly and windy. With the religious zeal of a 12 year old for the trivial, I ran off to show the calculator to my best friends.
Ruble opened the door and I almost took a step back in deference; she looked different: Mature and more handsome than usual. She looked very feminine with a hint of boyish oomph. What was different I wondered and then I noticed she had her hair nicely done and had a fancy hair clip on. She smelled fresh and sweet. She had also rouged her cheeks lightly, had fancy ear rings, a lovely scarf around her neck that she wore in a snappy manner that gave her the blasé look. She even had lipstick on: A pretty girl all wrapped up in a very chic arsenal.
She apologized for looking so pretty, ‘‘Gosh! I’m sorry I was playing with mother’s lipstick. Please don’t laugh!’’
I was too excited to comment on that but I asked about her Twin brothers, ‘Ruble! Where are your brothers? I gotta show my pals something!’’
She too was surprised to see me so thrilled, ‘‘They’re not at home. In fact no one is at home.’’
‘‘Yeah? Well, screw them! You’re here! First, please get me a glass of water.’’
I lay on the carpet in front of the TV and switched on my Christmassy calculator that jingled to life. She came back with the water which I gulped down instantly. Joy being an infectious thing, soon she seemed almost as happy as I. She lay beside me on the carpet- on her stomach- and like me rested on her elbows and raised her neck to look at my device like some jaunty cat with a cute scarf around her neck.
‘‘Ruble, this is a miracle and a savior. For God’s sake I don’t even remember simple multiplication tables let alone complex calculations! Here I am dying to demonstrate and the jingles! O God.’’
I made some simple calculations and wanted to show that calculator thinks the same. Like a dolt I took great pride in predicting the answers to things like 7 multiplied by 4 is 28 and cheered when the calculator tinkled with conformity. At that moment something happened. I almost remember it in minute details, as a slow motion flick. I felt a shadow gently overcoming me from the side. Ruble leaned over to my side, from my left side, and slowly but gently brought her lips to my cheek and held them there for at least two seconds.
I froze. I did not turn my head to look at her but stared at the calculator with my mouth half open with awe.
But then I remembered that girls sometimes did that kind of cutesy thing to boys as they get into some kind of girly-kittenish moment. Of course I was no saint but I would have enjoyed it if the caress had come with some sort of -identifiable- prior short notice and had not so rudely interrupted my wild rapturous moment with the machine in my hand.
Other than that, all my short life before teenage I had liked so many girls and women, but I never really actively romanced them or wrote them love notes and stuff like that that many other boys did. I had always been extraordinarily reserved in the matters of heart. Only once, all I had done was hug a girl. I was only about six years old then, when my family lived in some other part of the city. In my neighborhood there were hardly any boys, so I only played with girls. I loved being with them until the older guys everywhere started to make fun of me and said that only girls played with girls.
But being with girls had given me many opportunities of experiencing romantic stuff of sorts that I watched in the movies. One hot afternoon in the backyard of one girl’s house, when everyone was sleeping, I enclosed her in my arms and held her there, leaning against a big shady tree while some little birds twittered up in the bowery branches. I felt very peaceful and she was quiet too.
Then she asked after at least a couple of minutes swooning in my arms, ‘‘Are you hugging me?’’
‘‘Yes’’ I replied.
‘‘Ok’’ She said, having allayed her doubts or whatever girly trivia it was.
That was all I had done but I had to pay for it. Next day she told the other girl we used to play with, called Dimple, about the hugging incident. Dimple was very angry about it and said it was a dirty sin. But Dimple was weird too. Another hot afternoon I was playing with her when my brother came and said, ‘‘Mom is very angry and she wants you home right now!’’
I did not know any swear words when I was six so I just said, ‘‘No!’’
My brother said, ‘‘I forgot to tell you that mother made a cake and dad has just brought a bunch of new comic books. It’s awesome!’’
I could not see through these tactics those days, so I said, ‘‘Yeah? Let’s go then.’’
Suddenly, Dimple got sad about my desertion. She held my hand and spoke, ‘‘Please stay here a minute longer. I want to tell you a secret.’’
She also begged my brother to excuse us for a minute and took me to the back of her house. I was absolutely unsure what secret she wanted to tell me. I was mighty perplexed.
When we reached under some shade that hid us from the blistering sun she was still holding my hand, with both of her hands. I asked, ‘‘What is it? What secret?’’
‘‘I’m a bit shy to tell you.’’
‘‘I’m leaving! Hurry up or I’m going away right now.’’ I was now very annoyed about her messing me around like an idiot.
She blurted it out, ‘‘Please marry me,’’ and clasped my hand harder.
At that time I found it neither shocking nor sweet. I thought it was very stupid of her and a waste of time. Everyone repeated things from the movies all the time: ‘‘I will kill you’’, ‘‘I love you’’, ‘‘Bastard! I will kill you,’’ and now ‘‘Please marry me.’’ How tedious: some kids had no imagination, I thought.
‘‘Is that all?’’
‘‘Yes. Marry me.’’
‘‘Ok. Catch you later.’’ I left and she followed me and my brother up to the main gate of her house. As a farewell she said, ‘‘Don’t tell your brother! Please!’’
When we were on the street my brother asked, ‘‘What secret was she talking about?’’
‘‘She said, ‘please marry me’, she is such a weird girl, this Dimple.’’ I was still annoyed.
My brother laughed and when we reached home he told it to mother who laughed too. I had no idea what the hell was so funny about it. I was so angry because there was neither cake nor comic books for me. I wanted to kill my brother.
Few seconds had passed after Ruble had kissed me on the cheek. It was my first kiss, as in boy and girl kiss. But I had neither sought nor expected it, so it had only shocked me. Then I heard a nervous giggle, ‘‘Sorry. I’m really sorry. Hey tell you what, I just did it to leave my lipstick mark on your cheek and it looks so silly.’’
‘‘Oh. Yeah?,’’ I giggled nervously too, ‘‘Well, in that case would you please remove it because if my mother saw it she will murder me or throw me out on the street to live with the mangy dogs.’’
She almost took it as some military command, ‘‘Sure!’’. She took her hanky and carefully started rubbing out and removing the mark she had left on my cheek moments before.
Soon, I got up to leave and play with my gadget in the safety of my own home, where no one would disturb me with random pecks on the cheek when I wasn’t even looking. But before leaving, I wanted to confirm once more. ‘‘Are you sure it is totally removed, I’m worried!’’
She again giggled nervously, ‘Yes! It is gone. Now get out, will you?’’
I’d never seen her blushing like this. It was almost as if that the evening embers of the dying sun were glowing from her porcelain cheeks.
