Death's Silhouette

                                                                                                Arts by Waseka Nahar

                             Death’s Silhouette

                                By Howard M-B Maximus

The half-empty bottle of sparkly teal liquid rested beside her; as the silver sands cuddled her caramel skin to surreal tranquility. Zola watched head-up from beneath, as the cerulean skies waved their goodbyes; introducing giant sinister clouds that swaggered the skies above her unapologetically, in varying shades of gray.  Soon, she was going to feel cold beads of rain drizzles breaking into a million splashes as they collided with her soft skin- she had always been a sucker for two things; the beach and the rain.

Clouds thickened, atmosphere darkened, and grey turned to crimson. Zola trembled in profound horror; a disbelieving consternation, decoded at the sight of the discoloring clouds, raucous electric thunderbolt, and the gnarling of her own skin. She heard a voice- a hoarse and vibrant voice- a voice that shook her surrounds with even its weakest whispers. ‘Welcome to your new life’ the voice thundered, causing the ground around her to tremble, ‘the life you chose above all else. This life of lonesome abysm will be yours unendingly.’ Zola tried to talk, but the words won’t come out; she was petrified. The word ‘unendingly’ rang in her ears; it seemed to have an additional scare factor tagged to it. Zola scanned her surroundings fleetingly- red darkness; she felt a rush of ambiguous temperatures overwhelm her; gooseflesh and a horripilation that left her in unceasing shudders. 

Her life had been hell, or so she had thought. She had looked up at the bane that was once her husband, and more than ones, called him Devil. He and his lawyer had succeeded in proving to the court that she was without-a-doubt an unfit mother and wife; he had then been given full custody of their 6year old Jackson, and all of their property, leaving her with nothing, but at least, she thought, he had let her go. Was her new devil ever going to let her go? Unending was a very long time- an unending length of time.

It started to rain; golden balls of fire that seemed to twitch her every nerve, yet leaving her already disfigured skin unaffected; intense scourge that neither the boiling sea nor the baking sand could soothe. She had read a lot about hell and Lucifer a lifetime ago and  she had heard the church pastor preach about it week in week out, right before he announced it was time for alms; and just like Zola had given the alms, she had taken  the pastor’s sermons with such minute conviction that they could make her any better. ‘Formalities! Oscar; trite formalities’ she always told her husband when they were still friends, ‘all ways of making money,’ and when he argued she’d say ‘you are cute when you are gullible’ in amused condescension; but a lot had gone wrong with them.

She was probably wrong, she thought. Maybe the sermons could really help; but she’ll never be able to know for sure now. ‘One more chance Lord, one more chance and I will pay more attention to your word’ she prayed silently amidst the dark horrifying abyss. She looked up; she saw a stream of light; she saw the stream of light; she knew she had to follow it.

‘You were in a comma; y-you attempted sui…?’ a voice stammered from above her- a voice much softer; more endearing; more compassionate - it was Oscar. She had taken a sip of the poisoned liquid, and hoped that dying in a place she loved the most will make her afterlife better. The tears streamed effortlessly down the still Zola’s cheeks; a little less than her husband’s. She had been wrong; she knew better; God’s word did make things better; this was no hell; Oscar was no devil; he hadn't let her go after all; and most importantly, He hadn't let her go after all.