I feel it. Pure, raw, exhilarating energy. Visualise, if you will, a strong breeze strung entirely of words. Beautiful and poetic at times, raw and guttural at others. But real, oh-so real. Imagine it coursing through your system, ruffling your hair, entering your pores. Close your eyes and inhale. It’s as deliciously obscene as a passionate embrace, as cool and pure as a drink of water from the highest glacier. It flows in through your senses, envelopes your mind and pours out through your fingers. Feel that? And waiting, in front of me, is my beloved without whom I cannot put these sensations into coherence: My Silver.
This is an addiction of sorts. I am hooked. I’m having an affair. Sounds a bit warped, but I’m actually having
an affair with at least 6 people; men and women and my… never mind.
It’s not always carnal, mind you. But they’re in my head, in my very being. I feel so powerful. Because they may have their own individuality, but I am responsible for literally every moment of their lives. Oh, what a
sensation! A touch of my hand and their destinies are shaped, at my will.
I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t! I know I have to kill HER but if I don’t think this through, I am in deep crap. I am a master, don’t you understand?! I don’t do shoddy, I don’t do loose ends. She has to go, but it all has to
make beautiful, terrible sense…
How did this come to be? I was doing so well! No. I won’t give up. I’m in control…
Oh, this pain! Awful, excruciating blows. Thud. Thud. Thud. My head is splitting. I’m terrified of being found dead with this blank, boring tangle that fell from my dull brain with a plop. I want to finish this, but this
creature in front of me – what a monster she can turn into – terrifies me! My Silver, remember her? My beautiful, shimmering reader of thoughts. My confidante, my secret love no one knows about. She’s not of our kind, but she’s oh-so-dear to me. At least, she was till I broke down. I admired her. Depended on her. This alien creature with her lovely, glowing single eye that showed me my every thought. Her beautiful tiny black limbs took me by my hand where my words went. Her amazing brain that not only listened to me but remembered every word, every nuance of my thoughts. All she wanted was that I touch her; that I let myself be whatever I wanted when I am with her. But today, I goofed up. Just today. It wasn’t really my fault. I was tired! I just… blanked out. I didn’t say the right words. I couldn’t string one coherent thought with another. I discovered that there is no mercy for me, even for one single off-day. The scary thing is that no one can see my pain. She’s using my brain to kill me. Outwardly, not one weapon has been drawn and not a drop of blood has been let. But she fights me inside of me. Her eye has become a cold white glow, a blank swath of grey. Her beautiful limbs won’t hold my hand any more. She wants to turn me to dust with her deafening silence. I gotta get away from her, somehow. Surely it’s easy. Like taking a walk. Or a cold shower. Maybe I can go for a run. I sure as hell can run faster than Silver.
C’mon, love, let me go, just this once…
Silver and I have reached an understanding. Nowadays the violence is but a short gust now and then. We’ve reconnected. We love each other and I’ve figured it out. I understand now. Now, I must deal with the others. I must deal with HER.
I have to stop for today, though. This killing – cleansing, really – needs to be precise. I’m going to stop now and get back to it tomorrow. Tomorrow it will be foolproof. I know exactly how it’s going to happen, but I am going to stop for a bit anyway. Only then will it be as beautiful as I want it.
I am spent but peaceful. I’ve finished HER. Them all. Wiped my hands afterwards. And Silver and I are as strong as ever.
I figured out how to get away from the violence. Being weird helped. I donned a wig, wore my topaz ring, slept inside a sleeping bag on an armchair, chained my muse to my desk and let it all just flow over me. I let me be me. And that’s when the heady torrent poured through; constant and drenching me with everything I wanted…
A glimpse into the days of a crime writer. A murder mystery is underway. The writer is in as much tumult as her characters. The story in her mind, her passion, writer’s block and the conduit of her thoughts: her laptop Silver. The way she gets over her block is a subtle tribute to greats like Laurence Sterne, Hilary Mantel, Ernest Hemingway, Barbara Kingsolver and Roald Dahl who had their own quirky ways of speeding up a slowing momentum.
Shakthi Girish is the publisher of Galatta, a film magazine out of the Indian Peninsula. When she’s not throwing her weight around, she›s a full time mum and animal defender