The Black Curtain chapter VIII

“So, this flight goes to India and as far as I remember I have never been an enemy there.”

His arms were shaking, probably age had made him really incapable of masquerading around the world.

“Your arms are shaking, have a breakfast 🍳.”

Marco looked at his arms not with distaste but as though it was something to be happy about, a child like mystic smile when no one knows why the child or the mystic smiles.

“What happened? Why do you smile?” Reasha was more neural.

“Something saved me finally, something even if it’s age. It makes me stronger than I look. The proof is you don’t kill me, had it been a few years ago, your arms would be sticking the butt of your gun.”

“But, you like Merci? Humans mercy you now and now probably everyone.” Reasha stated wryly as she fidgeted with a French toast and French sandwich.

He was savouring his food sometime and gulping it down hungrily on others.

“What about you? Have a future?” Marco’s spoon was running behind a piece of sandwich screeching over the porcelain plate.

“Nope. No future, except myself.” Reasha looked around, eating was business for those who ate and those who sold.

“Why? If you wish to share.” Marco moved his hands over his head as his right hand caught the right temple of his head.

“It’s amazing you still speak with so much awe.

Well, to answer your question, I never understood why to many questions.

#1) Love is once some say, love is many times others say.

#2) If you can keep loving around for a husband, for a man, why do we not love many moms, many dads, many siblings, divorcing one and marrying another as per our wish.

That way life would have many of them and there would be no scarcity of such love even.

#3) Why is it that we are stuck so much to two of the holes in our body, females basically and not to the rest two holes.

If holes are so beautiful why don’t we visit the toilet whenever we wish, rather than we have to, we eat any time, often expected to sleep anywhere with anyone.

This made me sick over the years. If we are all egos, and egos are attached to these two holes then again it’s strange.

So, doing something mindlessly is not possible. Putting my mind to understand these, have taken me far away from them. It’s not a need for sure, I know. If I need something, it is food precisely since it would kill me if I don’t eat. It won’t kill me if I don’t use the other hole. Now, I can be killed if my genes don’t get transferred.

Genes vanish every day, people get killed every day, life does not move on for many. Besides, we are living for what? Passing genes to reach where? End of the world.

I have loved and love as it is once.

That didn’t take me anywhere, so why to force life? Eventually when I am happy.

I love myself more. Loving again and again, I am fine with those who want to, if someone can I have no problem. I don’t make the statement to infuse others, infuriate those who experience love many times. I am just stating facts that go on in my head.

“You are far more mature than girls are. You remind me of someone I met some fifteen years back.”

“C’mon we have to leave now.”

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The Black Curtain chapter VII

“So, do you think, after hearing about my COPD and my high level of glucose and other higher elements in blood, you still want to sedate me Reasha?”

“I got to check that yet. The check in process is over. Let me see if we can make talking.” She never found smiling important, besides smiles had conveyed wrong messages to many people in her career, she was experienced in it.

“Yeah, tell whoever is your Borscht that I am off note and I can definitely not fly. I am not Bond or scavenger/avengers/revengers of any sort.” Marco flapped his arms and raised his thumb, to the two men who never looked anywhere else other than Marco.

“You guys are my true admirers. Yo-yo……” Marco laughed again as he sat in the sweet bar staring at the sweets 🍫 🍬 🧁…..

“Marco is travelling without the sedative, MAC is quite clear about it. He wants him deported alive to this strange man. Ohh yeah! One more thing we are doing ten more such deportations, so I guess it’s good news for you, another two years, we all have our jobs.”

She didn’t wait to observe the reaction on their faces and walked up straight to the sweet bar beside Marco.

“Yeah, So we talk.” She looked through some candy bars.

“Really Wow! good news for me.” Marco smiled like a child.

“You know once her mother, my ex-wife left, my daughter stayed back in the prison that day. My ex wife left with her partner, a rock show agent.”

“Do you want some Mam?” The girl wore a blemish free smile and all Reasha could do was softly refuse nodding her head.

“So, Tiara stayed back and she said this to me…..”

You know Dad, I often felt strongly that every human wants to fulfil their true desire, their true source. I feel your true desire might be poetry. I have collected all your work, as many as I could lay my hands on, and I published a book for you. Read it and love it. Write more and make a living with a pen. It’s far more peaceful and quiet than your guns and brawns. Let’s not leave a bad example, Dad. Let us grow to become whole again and it’s yet, not very late.

I still have it with me.

I began writing, mostly using recording devices to record them. I am happy now.

He brought out from his pocket quietly a green small book.

“She probably spent her pocket money, her mother send her for the month.” He chuckled.

Reasha noted that the front page was nothing ornate but all green, a point to begin life again and again.

Reasha Markownikoff was strangely feeling the kindness of this man, he was as kind as her own father, “a father in a father to a father of a father.” But then she could never forget that day when he snatched her from her own self.

The Black Curtain- chapter VI

“I had to bear

that I was no bear

sitting with a beer

and friends to cheer.

I hold you dear,

my sweet little lovely deer.

Give me your ear

so that I can whisper into them, do not fear.

We need to gear

every moments love and hear

the mild rain drops, pattering here

on my doorway, my glasses turn haze, near

and far is no more there.

I am nothing but a mere

man, human weak and soft as a pear.

I am no King Lear.

I am your father, queer standing in the rear,

I will not let the world tear

you apart, you can wear

your tiara, your burning red 👗 dress in a year,

I love you sweet little prickly rare.”

This was my daughter’s favourite poem. Every night she would ask me to recite it before going to sleep until one day when she grew up and Dad became just a name on her record books, forms, notes and just a name I became. I saw it mutely as she disliked my visits, as she grew up more to loathe my presence, as she learnt I had once been bloodiest of all demons.

But, then one day as I was serving my sentence my wife, I mean my ex wife came and with her came my daughter Tiara. She stood long aside her mother quiet, silent watching me from the corner of her eyes.

I did not dare to ask her anything. I have been strangely been scared of softness, souls who cannot harm. Often during my working days, I would find ways in which I could prove someone guilty, even if it meant a scratch. It was enough for me to know that I was looking into myself, the demon sits right within. But my daughter, my wife and you were three of seven such people whom I could never fathom killing.

The day I saw you hiding beneath the sofa 🛋, your eyes were sooo damn huge. I had only seen such big eyes of deers, antelopes and the zebras in my life. I knew you could not harm, could never harm. My arms had shaken and I had missed your mother and father. They lived.

The Black Curtain chapter V

“So, your daughter is brave. She chose to fight.”

“Yes, invariably I found it rejoicing, she is a free thinker, boundaries mean nothing to her, most importantly she chooses to not see them.”

“Marco, we are taking a flight from here. You will have to be sedated during the journey as per the protocol.”

“So….Okay….But, is it not fun if we keep talking our hearts out?”

“I am afraid not.”

“Ms.Romanikoff, please allow us to do the check in process.”

“Yes, carry on boys.”

“My daughter became a doctor. She hosts the United Nations in our lands, serves many, poor mostly. What did you become?”

“I roamed around free for long too, petty jobs. There was no way home. My grandma had once told me that if you ever feel cruelly towards others open your heart and stand in a crowd. Listen all around you. Amidst laughter you will see lines underneath eyes, pumped up faces, swollen faces, swollen eyes. The more you observe them the more you know, where to look, what to do. I enrolled in an agency and had to change three agencies before I came across this woman who came fighting to the office one day. She was throwing out her baby sitter for the eighth time. I had been doing nothing for almost two years from where you dumped me. A bit of pick pocketing, stealing, begging, reciting poems on the street or singing to another’s guitar is all I did. I had gone to withdraw my name that very day and had thought of crossing over to the next best country. So, I took up school by night and a job by day. She is a very kind lady and she kept me as her baby sitter, allowed me six hours of sleep before I left for school. That was in a small street in Paris, where she held a boutique.

After doing that for almost eight years I became the nanny to the same girl. I completed my education and now had a family. I couldn’t have asked for more. Her daughter went for a degree in fine arts and I too went for a degree in criminology with the money she gave me all these years.

I joined a secret service agency and later moved to this holistic wing, where I search for noted criminals who have turned good over the years and if they are alone, hand them over to someone who might be willing to take care of them. It’s an initiative and lack of funds may soon see it’s end. In fact, you might be the last one we are assigned for assistance. You had applied?”

“I hadn’t, Ms. Romanikoff.” Marco shrugged.

“Then who did?”

The Black Curtain- chapter IV

“I had taken shape close to the hottest desert of the world, the Kalahar. The hidden spring was home to me, under the ground amongst the glowing cave. Not all know about it, dragon breath cave.

The desert was within me, I loved it,

I loathed it, I abhorred it.

There was nothing to do much, wild long stretches of sand spread all over.

There were no dreams, no hopes. The stars were brightest but their twinkle never sprinkled on us.

Home was only a sister. Mom left and dad left much before we realised. She was happy with a man, dad was happy with another woman.

One day someone raped her and killed her, my sister. She was good and kind to me. The men who did it were the men she had fought till her last breath. I looked up, that night after her final rites I watched the stars as I always did.

I realised there was a dream now, to be like her, brave, courageous, fighting for my wants and needs.

I ran away two days later when the men who killed her came to seek for me.

“You tell us. We killed her, she didn’t come with us. We are men, what she thinks of her, yaee? But, we are ready to compensate, you take gun, we give money, big money. You marry, go around do whatever you want, make children. We give you dreams for your sister’s booty and her life.”

I ran away, I hung from the underneath of trucks till I reached a port by night. There was no bravery in living a slave. She died free and I would live free.

People said I have always chosen the hard way.

Yes, I have and I saw a ship, it was a ship 🛳 of dreams to Europe.

I got into a barrel, and was rolled into the ship. I was kept in the lounge area. It was a dustbin, I realised later.

Whole day people dumped food and waste upon me. I lived eating from it, leftovers. But the leftover was also very delicious. I had never known food could be something to savour, something to cherish.

I had built a false base which I held over me all day long. I heard people cry and laugh. I heard unhappiness, sorrows, lamentations.

I was a happy man, the sky was bright, people worried, I rejoiced that others worried too, others lived dreamless nights, and wafted during the days doing meaningless work to earn the money, the Sun was brighter, but my skin was already black, why do I care how tough the Sun was, I had nothing to worry. I was already burnt. Money which bought them a sail on a ship, I was free, no one knew me, I had hopes now and dreams.

At night after everyone slept, I used to throw the garbage in the ocean, washed myself clean and slept in the lounge alone in the cold winds. No one ever stopped by me, in those days thank Godgin there were no cameras and hidden cams.

I survived. I thought I had won the war.

But then once I landed in Spain, I realised the war had just begun.

I travelled and travelled till I got work. Often I did not know which country I was going to or coming from, except this chit which I caught tightly in my arms unknowingly till I slept and my arms opened. But then by then I had already memorised the name. I had become a goon. My needs had to be filled. Guns were my only weapon.

I tried talking American, I tried being Spanish, Italian, Brazilian, and all other countries. I learnt English. I got a wife, a child.

One day I thought I was still living small, scared. I decided I could not be my sister, and the ones who killed my sister were right. I was never meant to choose hard, for I cannot choose hard. If I had listened to them I would not have pained myself, lost myself.

But now that I had lost myself, I found everybody in me and me in everyone.

Killing, extracting, snatching, fighting was not hard.

Since, everywhere I was fighting myself, snatching from myself, killing myself.

In it I found peace and never got caught strangely.

But when I snatched from your father…………

The Black Curtain…Chapter III

“Well, thanks.”Rocky sat in the front and was happy to receive the fresh chilled bottle of beer. The Sun was on his face and he was almost beetroot red from the impact.

“You won’t take any?” Marco asked me.

I showed him my bottle of Coke.

“I don’t drink.”

“Wow! What else you don’t do?” Marco asked back probably just curious to know the impact of being into a profession of men.

“In the world of men, I found a dame,

demure and divine like the sickly fame.

I live by the road to beat her in the game.

Even though my child you are lame.

Brief is my stay, yet more of shame.

Life is a hurricane not a wind tame.

Yet one day when I came

The dame was gone, nothing was same.

Nothing was left not even the name.”

His songs were growing longer yet soothing they were though not lullabies.

Some men did harm due to the humble requirement of humanity was still the best part of pain as opposed to the choice. We love to still hear and heal when people plead, “I had to do it.” But not, “I chose to do it.” Enmity is still it’s own enemy.

“I don’t smoke and I don’t sleep around.” I answered.

“Good. Strange it is though, I must say.”

“Health reasons. I prefer not overdoing a thing to die more and definitely not these ones. I have lost a few good friends to these, to adulterated drugs. Pain is not my favourite, I have enough.” My reply was wry from the bottom of my heart.

“So, you don’t drink yet you touch.” He laughed aloud.

The wind carried his smoke far, circles, strands and all other shapes were visible passing by.

“Yes I touch yet I don’t take these all in. Poisons can not kill poison often.”

“So, girl you want to kill me the women’s way. With words, I suppose.” He laughed again. His half broken, decayed teeth with the old age set into their very core made his laugh look like a hollow deadly hole with his jaws pinching inwards.

“Nope, you are wanted by someone and we are deporting you there.”

“Who needs me?” He laughed again.

“The ones you harmed the most.”

“I did not want to harm your father. The lie I tole you was coz I sorta cared by then for you. You were my daughter’s size.”

“Really. Wow! Listen I don’t want your shit. I lost everything due to your stupidity. I am helping in deportation since it’s my job to deport people unofficially.

“Where? Now I can ask that. I suppose.” His sudden change in tone, his anxiousness gave me a nice feeling.

The day I had asked him where he was taking me, he kept the suspense alive long.

He gave me off to an orphanage who later set me up in the flesh trade counter an extension of their business. I was barely eight with no growths to be considered a woman. I was malnourished and way far lean. One year of deprivation, lack of food and a proper home. I was left only with my bones.

I worked as a cleaner for a month in the sex parlour before running away.

The Black Curtain- chapter II

Whispering smoke

“Are we even moving? This AC in your car, hey! Does it work? The heat will kill me probably if nothing else can.” He scratched his neck and back constantly.

“You are here for six months, my sources said.”

“Yes.” Marco always used words as though he enjoyed every bit of the word’s existence.

He went quiet again,

“What? Why do you stare? I was here to die, okay, ” he shouted the last part.

“Is that fine?” He looked quietly away from me.

“To die? Aren’t you dead after all these years, all these crimes of mind games, deviating humans from their tracks for your benefit.” I smirked at his answer, for a moment it did not seem real.

“Exactly, that’s the point. I came here to know that part of it.” He made his point as his hands waved in the air.

******************…………………………………………..*********************……………………….

“I wanted to tell you, I met your daughter.”

“Why are you even, telling me? Wait. One second, did you destroy her as I destroyed you?”

“No Marco you have not destroyed me, you have killed me and ghosts can harm no one, you must know that.” I knew I did not hate him, hate was far from him but yet there was no word apart from apathy which could justify my sense of feeling towards him.

The air was still salty even though we were moving north.

We had halted in the gas station and I collected some cold drinks and some beer 🍺.”

“Why don’t you kill me right now?” He was smoking and he suddenly wheeled towards me dropping his cigarette beneath his feet, stripping it off it’s life that very moment.

“I will tell you. What’s the hurry? Or do you want to become a martyr of some sort?”

“Nah! Girl martyr, hmm my foot.” He smiled replying immediately.

He began humming slowly,

People are born wild,

only to live a life becoming mild.

The end is chilling and blind.

I wish to end here, my child.”

“Where did you pick up these lines and this poetry?” I looked at him as the Sun set behind him casting a gloomy grim cover to his presence.

“Well, I must say, it’s all mine.” This time he ended his cigarette and threw the butt away. The smoke lingered in the air for a while before vanishing like humans on earth.

“You don’t like it?” He asked me.

Destiny can be strange. The man who destroyed my family, brainwashed me into believing they left me, was right beside me and I was not killing him but instead planning to deliver him of his sins, in order to get delivered from mine.

The Black curtain….chapter 1

“It was eleven in the morning but the lips were dry as the desert. The throat searched every bit of saliva to make a living.

The man sat right in front of me. Marco was a name common within goons.

I realised every name can hold it’s bearer and so did his, perhaps.

“So, Miss do you want to torture me? If so, I can come with you. If you want me to stick my ass on this bench for any bit longer, you might have to repent your decision. Thus, I would advice you to carry me wherever you want since my bums burn from the heat growing each hour on the bench.” Marco chided grimly and solemnly.

I looked towards the doorway and my men came up, tied his hands and carried the shriveled body, dragging it out for some distance and lifting it, the rest until they reached the car parked outside the motel.

“Are you some police?” The man on the desk whispered his words. The breath was strong and stinging. It might have been just a few minutes ago when he might have gulped down a draught or two.

“No, I am his death.” I replied as I paid him the bill.

“Death knows none,

for death is never fun.

Why make death when

love can conquer all men.” The man chimed.

“I am Vassili by the way, drop in anytime you are crossing over to the other side.” He smiled. His brown teeth flattered his smile as the bark of wood flatters the tree.

“You mean from life to death?” I tried having some fun now that the prize was all mine.

“Noooo, I meant the bridge.” He was confused. His poetry caught Marco or Marco’s caught Vassili could not be told at this stage.

The black curtain

“So, it was you who was behind all this?” Reasha was trying to calm her nerves. She was right in front of the man, she would so like to kill with her own hands, or perhaps worse, throw him in the washing machine.

Everyday as the washing machine tossed and drizzled, trickled she just wanted to always imagine that one man she would want to drown in that drum, cleaning all the pieces of flesh, removing the grease and blood, wringing them clean of sins.

“Everyday the sun rise

makes you so wise.

But then you know your size

as you go out in the world beautiful and nice.”

The man on the other end of the desk stuffed the butt of the cigarette 🚬 into the wooden 🕳 hole on the desk, meant for people who smoked joints and cigarettes. There was no ashtray around except the hole in the desk.

“Ahh! poesy. The man who destroys can also create, WoW! amazing.” Reasha clapped sarcastically.

“Creation is not far from destruction, girl.” Dawn pointed his index on Reasha and his eyes did not at all exhibit any sort of embarrassment or guilt, rather a sense of achievement sat there in the white of his aging, wrinkling eyes.