Sitting by the water, I observe the dancing waves growing hyper as they touch the shore and gracefully die down while returning back. The natural beauty of the scene is complimented by the serenity of the night. I sit there, solitary, pretending to be unaware of all worldly problems, when suddenly, the silence of the night is broken by a cry.
Relying on my sense of hearing, I follow the sound, anxious to discover where it originated from. I reach an old hut, and step inside. The cries grow louder, and soon start hurting my ears. I don’t know whether it was wanting to curb the noise, my inquisitive nature, or the urge to help that person who was apparently in pain, that made me do this.
I find the place which seemed like the rootage of the cries, and lightly touch the door, my body possessed by uneasiness and nervousness. The door seemed like the key to my curiosity. Behind the walls of that door would be the reason behind my discomfort. The door opens with a slight creak.
The faint light entering the room from the window kisses her face, illuminating it, to reveal tightly shut, wet eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Her lips groaning with pain, in sync with her eyes, an outlet for tear drops. Her tangled hair, that once seemed to be tied neatly, was now out-of-place. If she wasn’t weeping like this, I’m sure she must have been a very pretty young woman.
I approach her, unsure of what to say as she realizes my presence. The eyelashes on her upper and lower eyelids leave each other’s company to expose her bloody red eyes. Her light pink lips, try to find words to justify the reason for her screeching and awful state. I gesture to her, conveying that she could disclose her thoughts to me.