7/30/2019 An Odd Little Piece of Writing

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An odd little piece of writing

She lay on her bed wide awake. Something stifling about the heat made it impossible for her to keep her eyes shut for more than two minutes at a row. She got up and sat on her 

 bed. The concave depression on her pillow felt damp. Must be her sweat. The room was

not dark. The light curtains failed miserably trying to battle the luminescent street lampflashing a smile right outside her window. She walked up to the window and stared

straight into the light. That is when it all happened.

“Why are you not sleeping? Is something wrong?” she said without moving an inch of her lips.

“The fact that I am having a mental conversation with myself at this hour speaks rather 

highly of everything not being wrong.” This voice sounded different from hers.“Well, mental conversation once in a while is healthy. It helps me introspect,” she said.

“Ah, good to meet you old friend. What an excellent choice of time and place”, said a

dark figure sitting down with legs folded on the pillow in such a way that the depressionthere completely cupped his bum.

She looked straight at him and tried to decipher the face. The voice was strangely familiar yet unrecognizable.

“And how did you know that I am a “he” considering my voice sounds much like you?”he asked.

“That’s because I told her,” said another voice.

Surprised she looked at the direction of the voice and saw that she could discern another figure standing right behind the seated person.

“What should I add?” the figure was visibly rubbing the shoulder of the man sitting on

the pillow. “A checked shirt? Some semblance of prickly beard on the cheeks and howabout a strong scent of deodorant …of course the one you love to sniff off the shirt of 

your…”

“Stop,” she said. “Who gives you the right to do this to that man and how dare you speak about those things that I never speak about?” she cried by widening her eyes.

“Strange little girl you are. I expected a ‘who are you’ or a ‘what are you doing here’

question and you ask me about my ‘rights’?”

“I must say, you speak of questions that I would love to discuss with her. Can I?”interjected the man.

“No no, let her first talk to me. She hardly ever talks to me nowadays. I think it has much

to do with you. She is so busy talking to you all the time. I miss the time when she usedto tell me to do whatever I wanted. I could make lizards be baby dinosaurs, I could make

every person she laid her eyes on be a spy or a celebrity in disguise and even her future

husband. I would tell her all about her future even before she lived it. I could…”“Whoa….what are you man, a fortune teller or something? You do realize I was about to

have a serious conversation with her before you butted your head. And stop …what are

you doing? Why do I look like the Italian footballer Materazzi ? And why are you baldall of a sudden and why is she laughing?” said the man on the bed looking visibly

confused and annoyed.

“I think I have lost it. I am mental! I am schizophrenic!” she muttered looking hysterical.“Relax. You aren’t.” another voice intruded.

7/30/2019 An Odd Little Piece of Writing

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“The man on your bed is your Introspection. The peevish fellow behind him is your 

Imagination. And I happen to be your Sanity”

The girl looked wide eyed at them. They still looked the same three dimensional shadowsto her formed by the light the curtains managed to ward off.

“Does every abstract notion I think of have to take such a life like form?” she asked

exasperated.“Duh.” the three voices chorused in her larynx.

She smiled. She switched on the table lamp and opened her laptop and typed, “An odd

little piece of writing.”