The Cat with the Broken Tail

One day, a little girl of sixteen was all alone at home.

She wanted a screwdriver to open up some gadget.

She stood on tiptoe to reach up to the shelf.

She spread her fingers in search of the screwdriver.

Her hand found something. Something pricked her hand.

When she drew her hand back again, it was bleeding.

Upon further inspection, she found that a little porcelain toy cat’s tail had scratched her fingers. Deep.

She pulled out the cat with the broken tail and stared at it.

I was a gift from her old, old friend. She sat down on the ground and let a single tear escape. 

"What are you scared of ?"

"What are you scared of?"
While talking to some really old friend of mine, he seemed to have picked up on my gloom and had asked me about it. He then proceeded to ask me other weird questions. But this one question got me thinking a lot over. 
Well.. Here goes..

I'm scared of the fact that no one in the world is indispensable. 
Every person can be replaced, more often than not, by people better than them. I'm scared that it is true.

I'm scared that the world might implode some day.
The way the world might just... not exist some day.

I'm scared of how fragile butterflies are. 
I'm scared about how the butterflies keep reminding me of how fragile human hearts are.

I'm scared of saying 'I love you'. 
The way I stopped saying it to maybe more than just five people in life. 
I'm scared that some day I will be all alone.
I'm scared of the fact that one day, I might wake up from bed and not be satisfied with life.

I'm scared for all those people who harm themselves.
I'm scared that I might never be able to be the person I wanted to be.
I'm scared that the butterfly I hold will either fly away or die.
I'm too scared to touch one.

I'm scared that there will be a larger 'to read' pile of books in my life, than a 'favourites' pile.
I'm scared that if I am too picky, I'll be left with nothing.
The way beggars can't be choosers.
The very same way someone who loves you cannot say it to your face without a little caution.

I'm scared that people will break my trust. 
Trust crumbles the way trust does.
I'm scared that one day, everyone I know might no longer exist.

I'm scared that I won't be able to achieve what I set out to achieve. 
Scratch that. I'm terrified that I won't be able to achieve what I set out to achieve.

I'm scared that some day, I might not be able to make the ones I love, happy..


All that and more.. It is all about irrational fears and insecurities.

A/N:
This isn't a negative post. Keep the hate.

The Umbrella Story

The story of how I now ought to prefer colourful patterns as opposed to the repetitive black and whites that I used to... An indication of how I people (me) grow out of their comfort zones.. Maybe jump around a little, and finally trust people.

This one time, shopping for all the back-to-school supplies with my mother, we came across a small store. What attracted me to the store was the display of umbrellas. It was a store that sold only umbrellas and rain-coats. I convinced myself that I was in desperate need of an umbrella, since "Mom! All my friends now have umbrellas. No one really wears rain coats anymore!" Yeah, mom. Like you didn't see through THAT.
So, the store..
It had these wonderful glass displays full of umbrellas and they were all black, grey or white, all with different patterns. I entered the store with my mother. I started looking for an umbrella that I would like. The shopkeeper, trying to be helpful, fished out all the colourful ones he had. Zazzy colours. Stripes, flames, polka dots.. you name it. He was a little disappointed to see that I didn't like them one bit.
I asked him to show me the black and grey ones. He looked a little puzzled and said "Beta, those are for all the boring people.. All the kids use these colourful ones! Why don't you choose something from these, here?" but I insisted.
He finally showed me some of the black and grey ones. I found one that I really liked. It was black.. and had grey checks. Uncommon. Things that don't stand out in a crowd. Good enough to blend in, unless someone looked closely. I ended up buying that one.

After I went home, I enthusiastically showed it to my grandfather. He asked me why I liked it so much. I didn't really have an answer at that time. I just said I liked it.
After two days of thinking about grandfather's question, I framed an acceptable response. Well, acceptable  by babyish standards, of course. I was much younger, then, you see.

I told him what the shopkeeper had said as well, right after my 'answer'.
My answer (I don't remember much.. or I'd rather pretend that I do not remember..) consisted something along the lines of  "Tata, I don't want to stand out in a crowd. It is scary. People will look at you and point you out. All your flaws.. wide open... for the whole wide world to see..! How can anyone want that? By buying an inconspicuous, yet pretty umbrella, I'm just trying to make sure that people who see me for me will be able to find my faults. That way, people I give permission to, are the only ones who can break my walls.."

He asked me if I could keep a secret, then.. to which I said yes, of course. Being a quiet and calm person, it kinda came naturally to me. 

He then sat me down after dinner, and told me things that I will never forget. He told me about how I must not let what people think of me define me.. of how people always judge a book by its cover and how people notice colour. He told me that colour and pattern were things people are attracted to and that even when faults were found, they would overlook them. I didn't believe it, then.. I somehow do not believe it now, either. People are mean. They do not overlook faults. They cannot accept things that are beyond them. They just..Believe. Naive as it may be, the word believe does, in fact have the word 'lie' in it.. (Looks like a thought for another day, though..)
By using a colourful exterior, you can try covering an ugly interior.. But then, it works the other way round, too, doesn't it? Cliché. The colourful, beautiful interior, covered by the dull greys.. More than enough movies on that concept.
Then what about the beautiful interior.. The one shuttered by multiple layers of black? What can be done to the walls that have been re-erected after a betrayal, or two.. or a hundred? The walls that might never crumble again? 

See? People don't notice. They just go about their business and leave the rest. And that is a good thing. The last thing someone shuttered needs, is people prying.

There are more things my grandfather told me that day.. about how not all people are like that.. etc. etc. Maybe. Maybe not. It ain't my life's mission to find out the truth behind those words. I hope they are true.. and that there are people out there who care. But that doesn't make much difference anyway.

Well.. after that little talk, I never told of that piece of advice to anyone. He also told me to use the black-grey umbrella until I was comfortable with using a colourful one. 

I use the black-grey one till this day.

Maybe some day, I will visit that shop once again and ask the shopkeeper to give me the most colourful, flashy, pretty umbrella he has and start using it. Maybe then, I will be able to throw away the black-grey one.. The one, owing to whose small size, travels with me in my bag almost always, during the rains. The one that shields me from people.. the one that shields me from.. Me.

Well, then... That's the story. Off to bed, kids.

P.S. Apologies to the black-grey umbrella. I love you. And you are absolutely BEA-utiful.

Heat.

I believe that heat is the answer to almost all things in the world.
I will agree, though, that a burn can not be treated with fire, metaphorically speaking, of course. But isn't the cold just absence of heat? 

Men are fond of playing with fire, knowing it will burn them. Our world is divided into two kinds of people, in my view. Ones that jump into the fire without a care in the world – the ones who think they know what they will do, once out the fire, and Two, people who stand on the edge and peer down into the fire, thinking of ways to avoid it all together.

What I do, is think of ice and step in, knee deep into my personal fire.

There is almost nothing a warm hug can not cure. People can some times just break down during a hug. They might be the big, scary “I’m the tough one” outside, but when they’re truly alone, only a warm hug can do any thing worthwhile.
There is no such thing as fake warmth. Anger, lust, love; all of them can be faked – and easily enough, yes. But real, true warmth that comes from one’s heart can never be faked.
There are people who might think different. Heat can sometimes, they say worsen things. Ice cream melts in the heat. But you enjoy one only because of the heat.

Heat, is but a higher degree of warmth. While some might oppose everything I’ve said about warmth and heat, I still believe that heat is comforting and can almost always cure a broken heart…

A/N.:
Taking/took a break from the challenges. I just don't feel like typing them up.
I'll edit this one later. For sure. There's so much more I have to say, but my head isn't letting me form coherent sentences. Too tired. Later.

Day Five - The Writing Challenge.

Prompt: Your silver feathers shine diamond bright.

"If you're going to keep that bird locked up like that, it's feathers will lose their shine! We can't have such birds in our house!! Let it out for a minute. Don't forget to tie its leg to a ribbon and let it back inside soon. Do you understand??"

"Yes ma'am.." I nod.

This is the city of Ping. It is far, far away from other villages - so far, it is almost just a legend.. and so the people around here stick together in close-knit, family-like groups. Sometimes, it gets too stifling. The only way out of groups like that, was my way. No one could ever imagine coming out of "family"... I just.. had a little fight, and yayy, wish granted.
So, I went up to the richest people in town and started working. I was to take care of the birds they had. In this place, having a bird is a status symbol. The birds' feathers GLOW if they're taken care of. That glow can be shown off. There isn't really a reason..
Hunters look for the birds, capture them and bring them back to the large houses where they are caged.

A few years ago, there were many many birds. Now, the one in this house was the only one left...throughout our country. There was just one..
The birds were beautiful. Since the day I had started working here, I loved the bird. It made me sad that I had to be the one to tie its legs, lock its cage and let it out for a few minutes..
I wanted to free him.

______________________

It was a dark night. The moon was hidden behind fluffy clouds and the village was dark..unlit, except of course by the bird's feathers in the large house. Ping was celebrating "The days of Ignorance". They believed that ignorance was bliss. During these celebrations, no one in town was allowed to light up their homes at night. No light. Not even to smoke a cigarette. If, during the mornings, there was any sunlight, the windows were to remain closed and the blinds drawn. As little light as possible was to be let in.
These were two days..two very precious days for the common thieves. They would sneak up and take away whatever they wanted from the unlit homes. The rule, was that, the next morning, if the villagers noticed something missing, and found it in possession of someone else, they had to keep mum. Feign ignorance.

I saw a perfect opportunity to let the bird free, on the first day of the days of Ignorance..No one would notice at night and they wouldn't be allowed to talk about it after the celebration! Well, there was at least ONE good thing about the village... Why I even wanted to let it free, I didn't know. It somehow just didn't seem right that a creature as beautiful as the bird was imprisoned.
Every single time I let it out on a leash, it looked at me, pleading for me to set it free.
This time, I finally would.

With the pleasant thoughts of how pleased the bird would be, with my favor, I went slowly to the golden cage where the bird was kept. I winked at it and motioned with my finger for it to stay quiet. It was one intelligent bird...
I slid the latch open and reached inside, untying the silk ropes around the bird's legs. I stepped back and opened the window and motioned for the bird to fly away.
It trotted slowly to the edge of the cage and spread its wings. Giving me a grateful look, it took off into the dark night, taking the glow and the light of the village with it.
I watched as it soared into the sky, bright against the inky sky, among the stars. The scene filled me with happiness. But I couldn't just stay here. I knew that the mistress wasn't supposed to talk about the now missing bird, but they sure could act upon it... And, my mistress had horrific ways...

That night, just after I let the bird free, I grabbed the golden cage and ran for my life. I now, would have no job. If I had to get by, I  had to sell the cage. The bird had to do me SOME good?....
I sprinted down the spiral stairs as fast and quietly as I could. When I found myself out of the castle, I made my way to the edge of the forest that separated our area with that of the other villages.
I was going to leave Ping...
I was leaving Ping...

______________________

I ran into the forest, the thorns and twigs pricking every part of me. Stumbling on rocks, struggling with the cage, I ran and ran and ran from Ping.
Who wanted to stay in a village that celebrated the days of IGNORANCE, for heaven's sake!!

I ran till my feet bled and I was out of breath. I then climbed a tree, dragging my precious gold cage with me. Hugging it, I fell asleep on the branches.

In the wee hours of the morning, while I was descending the tree, I heard a beautiful sing-song squeak. I was almost sure, it was the bird I let free, that I turned around, looking for its shiny feathers. And there it was!
The bird had returned to me. It had come back!
Upon taking a closer look at the bird, I noticed a small roll of paper tied to its left leg. I went and slowly untied the string and opened the paper.
There were very few people who could read and write, throughout our small country. I, luckily, was one of them. Whoever must have written the note must have known that I could read...
Here, writing was a form of secretive communication. If someone else had to know something, someone had to tell them orally...
The piece of paper read:

        
            I know who you are and what you are doing.
           I know you left family. I did too.
          I also know why you left. I know, because I did. I am guessing that we had the same reason.
         I know you know how to read. So, hear me, now.
  This is a very precious bird, and as you might know, the very last in our country. But just because it 
  is the very last in OUR country, doesn't mean it is the last in the world.
  Send me a confirmation that you have read this and then I shall tell you further. 
 - Y


What did that mean? Did that mean that this person knew me? And, if yes, then that would mean that I was being spied on... which doesn't make sense, because I am just so plain!
My mind was buzzing with questions, but I decided that I'd first write back to mysterious "Y".
I searched for berries. I found some orange ones and crushed them. Dipping my finger in the paste, I smeared a crude "Yes" on the back of the paper and tied it back on the bird's right leg. It promptly took off into the morning. I sat atop the tree once more, waiting...

The sun rose up in the sky and according to my calculation, it was some time around noon, when the bird returned with a larger bit of parchment. I quickly reached out and untied it. It read:


 Go back home. Go back to where you were.
 No one has noticed your absence, yet. Even if you are a little late, you can reason that you were out, flying the bird. It is no use trying to cross these woods alone...
Maybe next year.. I'll try to be around to help you with it..
Go back.
- Y


This time, the note left me a little puzzled.
I quickly decided that I'd return home, but leave the bird free in the wild, regardless of the consequences.
I started sprinting towards Ping, again, heeding the note.
It was midnight, by the time I got back. The village was still in the dark. I sneaked up back into the castle and pretended to sleep, waiting for morning to bring with it, the many accusations and punishments.

The shrill scream of my mistress woke me up from a deep, but troubled sleep.
She screamed at the top of her lungs for me. I ran up the turret as fast as my legs could carry me. I saw her standing near the golden cage. The golden cage that I had replaced, the night before. 
She turned towards me, furious. I was confused. She wasn't supposed to act like that. She wasn't supposed to 'know'..
"How DARE you leave the door of the cage OPEN?! Do you have any idea how disastrous it would have been, to lose the bird? It is the only status we have, left! You stupid little girl!! The bird could have flown away!"
Flown away? I let it free! The bird wasn't here anymore!
"I..I..Am.. s-sorry, ma'am.."

"Alright. Now just let the bird fly for some time and shut the door. CAREFUL, OKAY?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Was she seeing things? The bird WASN'T HERE!!


My mistress moved away from the cage, walked gracefully to the door and swept out of the bird's room.
And then, I saw that the bird was right there in the cage.
Either it had returned or.. someone caught it and brought it back!

I went to it and noticed a small piece of parchment tied to its leg. Another note!
I untied it and opened the piece. There was a hasty scribble..

    Don't question the turn of events. The bird told me that it would miss you terribly.
    It said, it didn't want to be without you. I tried reasoning. 
   It said it loved you too much.
   It nudged me to write this part of the note:
   "I love you, nameless. You took great care of me. I am, after all, a tame bird.. Not wild. I cannot 
    survive without help. 
   Love will keep me locked up in this beautiful cage. Thank you for everything you tried to do."

Burn this note.
- Y


With trembling fingers, I went to the nearest fireplace and crumpled the note and flung it into the depths of the fire. Without another look at the bird, I ran down the tower, crying.


A/N:
I like how the story has turned out.. *blush* *blush*