A huge part of our personality and our being is crafted by our experiences as a child. We are almost like a formless rock lying ashore to a river, THE RIVER OF LIFE. Sometimes the water flows slowly and peacefully but at other times God sends the rain pouring down; then there is turbulence, storms or even floods. No matter what happens, every single drop of water that comes our way has one and only one purpose, every single drop of water has the greed of a sculpturer; it wants to carve out the best piece of art ever made.
Stella as a child was chirpy, curious and lively but definitely the most ambitious kid one could have ever met. She wanted to win over the world. She wanted nothing less than the best but needless to say, she failed to recognize where to stop.
Her conscience, I must say, knocked at her heart every single moment through the seven years she spent away from her family in New York, building the beast of a career she has as the assistant editor of a leading daily. Her soul urged her every single day to get into the car and rush back to find her parents, especially after they willed their house to her name and shifted to some unknown place, but, what did she do?
She ran. Fueled by her ego, her guilt, her pride, she ran as far as she could, away from her soul and conscience.
Here, she was standing in front of her past for the last time. She was going to get rid of it, very soon.
She was here for farewell not for reunion. When she walked through the door, she kept this in mind.
She pushed the door open, it creaked in the scariest way possible. The wood was old now, there were spider-webs everywhere. The fact that the house was abandoned was being shouted out loud by its remains.
The sun had already started going down, so it was hard to see inside the house. Tripping and stumbling over things, feeling walls, she somehow managed to figure out the light switch and flicked it up.
As light filled the living room Stella experienced her entire childhood coming back to life. She was instantly filled with nostalgia. Flashbacks started crowding her mind…..
It was high school when she discovered the little artist inside her. Her father was a lawyer but he was also a very skilled painter and hence, her interest in painting was a surprise to no-one. Her first painting was this beautiful landscape with trees, mountains and a waterfall but her favorite part in it was the clear, open and blue sky. Just looking at it made her want to fly away.
When she was about to finish her painting, she accidentally dropped some blue paint on one of her mountains. She rushed to her father crying.
” What happened Stella?”
” I accidentally dropped blue paint on the canvas.” She said as she sobbed.
” Hmmm….okay, let’s see what can be done.” He got up from his desk and went with her to her room. He looked at the painting, still and silent for a few seconds. Stella was just waiting for him to tell her that her painting was now spoiled forever, but instead, he picked up a brush and some white paint and blended the blue paint. When he finished, it appeared as if water was rushing down the mountain
“Wow!” gasped Stella.
“You like it?”
” Yes! Dad, you are the best!” she said as she hugged him.
” Stella do you know why I love painting?”
” Ummm….no….maybe you like colors..”, she said this with a clueless face.
Her father smiled, “…..because the canvas for me is like a parallel universe, it is like a different world owned by the person with a brush in his hand. You paint whatever you want, it is all about your vision. Nothing is judged as a mistake, everything is perfect in its own way and if you think it is not, there is always a room for improvement.”
“Even I have started to love painting now.”
“Do you want to be a painter?”
” I don’t know about that but I want to be super-rich.”
Her dad laughed and stroked her forehead gently as he left the room.
Suddenly a mouse ran across the lobby bringing Stella back to her present, almost abruptly. She wiped off her tears and as her eyes followed the trail of the mouse, they stumbled upon the painting, her painting, it was still hung on the wall. She went to the wall and brought the painting down. She stared at it for some time, looking at the same blue open sky but sadly it did not make her want to fly now.
She kept the painting on the nearby table and instantly noticed a bubble-wrapped box kept on the ground, just beside the table. To her surprise, it seemed newer compared to the other things in the house. She picked up the box and turned it around to look for any details of the sender. There was no such information but just a date, “December 11, 2018”
” What? How can this be possible? No one else has the key to the house except me!”
Just then there was a loud thud and then the sound of a screeching floorboard from the darker side of the hallway. She turned her head in that direction and noticed the silhouette of a man.
” Who is it?” she asked with an assertive voice.
Suddenly, the silhouette started to run away. She was an investigative journalist early in her career so, out of habit, she followed the lead and ran.
The street light shining in from a window revealed the man for a few seconds. He was tall and wearing a very strange looking shoe. The shoe had the picture of an eagle inscribed on its buckle.
He increased his pace and started running towards the back door. Suddenly a metal object came flying from somewhere and hit Stella on the head.
Everything blacked out.
Who was that man? Who attacked Stella? Where there more than one person in the house? Is there a secret about the property that Stella doesn’t know about? Find out in the upcoming chapters of “When I walked through…..”Follow the blog to receive an e-mail every time we release a new chapter.