Ahanna And The Mop
She stared at the dirty pile of unconscious dreams. The mechanical movements of certain body parts were not in pace. Thus, she moved her body towards the chair, which considered as the only safety spot.
Then she roamed the entire building with those red eyes. The skateboard thrown to the dust bin. Its rear wheels are broken, but it can be modified and used as a murdering weapon. The last phone call she got from the mop was directing her to refrain from the unconditional mood swings. Basically, she recognized herself as emotionally empty until she met the mop.
It was a not so clear evening. The yellow sun killing the vibe of love in the park. She thought this day should be the final and deciding day to measure happiness. Thus, she crushed the smartphone and ate the sim card. On a second thought, the “mobile dust” made into a solution with vinegar and strained with a spaghetti strainer. And she kept the solution in a box of chyavanprash. The golden colored bottle of not so famous brand is worth it at last.
As she was walking towards the vibe killing sun, who insisted her to turn back and have a look at the boy who sells flutes , her body started jerking. The purse she bought from the Gucci store started jolting and some unidentified item covered in a muslin cloth appeared out of nowhere. Next second she got a second chance to pause.
Oh, am I feeling dizzy?
This is unusual.
She thought. While sitting in the top of a rock which was turned on by the sun she puked.
Nobody cared what’s happening to her. But she clearly listens to the laughing sea which is singing songs of celebration. She wanted water. The boy standing near to the cart which sold petty items asked about her health.
She bought another bottle. This bottle is to clear off the puke in the bench. While she was washing her inner spasms, the sim card she engulfed appeared. Not even a single scratch. Haa.
Suddenly the mobile which was covered with the cloth, lifted above her head. The sim goes in. those two actions where involuntary and instantaneous. In the next moment it started winging. The unstructured feeble voice from the other side told her to walk through the aisle for a minute and turn back. Then the voice asked her to move towards the local pawn shop and asked to by a mop. The mop she cherishes forever.
This situation was anticipated by her in her pervious diary entries. Thus, there was no element of surprise. She opened the package with the razor blade and set the box on fire.
She tried to trace back the mechanical voice which asked her to buy the mop, with the help of her cyber security expert friend. The number belongs to some person named Mr. Mop.
The next day was bit tricky for her. on the another note she was getting calls from “Mr.Mop” in specified intervals. But whenever she receives a call, the physical mop she bought from store keep reported missing. She took the mop and sealed in a ghee container after cutting it into 17 pieces by the one generation old axe.
The box was set on fire once again just after she took the call. There was no voice from the other side. But she did hear the screaming and noises.
In that evening she carried a Holicks bottle to the sea front. While sipping the last drop from the hotel cafeteria, the last wishes of the mop was properly buried at the sea.
