The World Has Forgotten To Love Me

I have send another short story uploaded at the British Council's website a city of shared stories Kuala Lumpur. This will be my fourth story that was uploaded at this website

The World Has Forgotten To Love Me By Bissme S

He brought fear to all of us who live in this city. He was a serial killer who loves breaking into stranger’s house and killing them, violently.
The police would always find his victims with their heart organ missing. A year later, he went to the nearest police station and surrendered himself. He got tired with what he did. He got tired of waiting for the police to catch him.
At first the police doubt his story. He looked too innocent to be a vicious killer. Then, he took the police to his house and showed the jars where he preserved his victims heart.
That was enough to convince the police that he was indeed the serial killer they were looking for When the police grilled him for the motives behind his murders, all he answered: “The world has forgotten to love me.”
Those were his last words. He never spoke again.

Heart & Mind

The British Council has started  website : A City of Shared Stories – Kuala Lumpur where people can contribute very short short stories ( the short stories should have less 1,600 characters). To date I have send three stories. I am posting one of my stories  in this blog  called Heart & Mind. Here is the story


Heart & Mind By Bissme S


Jamil could not believe the place where he work for four years will be torn down. A new swanky shopping center is expected to take over its place.
“KL is over flooded with shopping centers and do we really need another one?” Jamil asked his best friend.
But his best friend was too busy enjoying his Nasi Ayam lunch to pay any attention to Jamil. The place Jamil work holds many memories for him. It is here that he learned about life, love and lust. It is also the place where Jamil met Ben, for the first time.
The part time poet and full time Mat Salleh chef had convinced Jamil that he was different from his other clients and what he felt for Jamil was love, and not lust. Foolishly, Jamil believed every word that Ben told him. Everyone wants to be loved and Jamil was no different. When his working contract was over, quietly, Ben went home and leaving Jamil with a broken heart.
“What if Ben comes to his senses and realized that he truly loved me,” Jamil asked.
“If the place is no longer here, Ben would not know where to find me,” Jamil added.
This time around, his best friend stopped eating his lunch and looked at Jamil with a pair of sad eyes. Indeed, it is hard to tell your mind to stop loving someone when your heart still does.

Forgetting Adrian

Forgetting Adrian By Bissme S

Truly, I believed, one of the hardest things in life, is watching the person you love, love someone else. I was madly in love with Adrian but he never loved me back.

He only regarded me as his best friend and nothing more. I didn’t want his friendship. I wanted his love. I wanted his body to touch mine. I wanted his lips to be on my lips. I wanted to carry his child.

When he introduced me to the woman he loved, my world came crashing down and my heart was broken to thousand pieces. I was no different from the Humpty Dumpty that sat on the wall and had a great fall, and no one could fix me back.

Frankly speaking I can’t totally blame Adrian for breaking my heart. I never confessed my true feelings to Adrian. I never had the guts to reveal what was in my heart.

I never showed my pain to Adrian. I put on a clown mask and pretended to be happy for his happiness. I attended Adrian’s wedding with smiles in my face and tears in my heart.

I reminded myself that love and marriages were fated and it was not in my fate to be Adrian s soul mate. I tried dating other guys. But no one can take Adrian’s place in my heart. Forgetting Adrian was not easy. May be I was fated to love only Adrian and no one else.

*****

The first time Adrian and I met, both of us were hardly 12-years-old. Adrian and his family were our new neighbours. Our parents become fast friends.

Both of our parents had so much in common and spend so much time together. It was only natural for Adrian and I to become close friends.

My feelings for him didn’t only remain as friends. Slowly, I find myself falling in love with him. Love happens when you least expected it.

I began to have dreams about us falling in love, getting married and living happily ever after, just like in the fairy tales. Sadly later I learned that some fairy tales do not come true.

******

I cannot understand what Adrian saw in Anita. She was just a plain Jane. But in Adrian’s eyes, she was the most beautiful creature to walk upon on his earth.

He sang high praises of Anita like angels sings sermons in the praise for their creator. The first time they met was when Anita s car broke down on the highway.

And the shining knight armour  came to her rescue was the love of my life – Adrian. Naturally the numbers were exchanged. Out of gratitude, Anita took him to a dinner.

That was not the end of them meeting each other. Soon more dinners followed. Slowly, love blossomed between them and naturally the next step was to get married and start a family.

******

I had a hard time accepting the fact Adrian was not my lover… Adrian was not my husband … Adrian was calling another woman as his wife.

Loneliness became my faithful companion, bitterness enveloped my life and pain never stopped dancing in my heart.

I have been told some disappointments and some broken hearts are good for your soul. It makes you a stronger person. But I never wanted to be strong. I just wanted Adrian to love me.

******

Like most men, Adrian was jumping with joy when he learned that his wife was pregnant. He wanted me to be his wife’s doctor and bring out their child into the world.

He wanted me to their child’s godmother. Life is full of surprises and disappointments. I dream to be the mother of his children. Instead I was becoming the godmother to his children.

The day finally came where his wife was in the delivery room. There was complication and her life was in my hand. My pain robbed me of my rationality.

My life didn’t have a happy ending and I didn’t want Adrian to have a happy ending either. My dreams had turned into disappointments and I will do the same to his dreams.

I made sure his wife and his child didn’t survive the operation. The tragedy had made him a broken man. His life became be a carbon copy of my life.

Loneliness became his faithful companion, bitterness enveloped his life and pain never stopped dancing in his heart.

Adrian tried dating other women. Like me, he can’t never find a woman who can take place Anita’s place in his heart.

“Basanti, may be I am just fated to just to love only Anita and no one else” he confided in me.

Strangely he never blamed me for his wife’s death. In fact he blamed God for his sadness. He stopped going to church. He never forgave God for taking away his wife and his child.

He was furious at God and anything that has connection with religion.

“Doctors are not God,” he pacified me.

“Life and death is in the God’s hand and God always has the last say,” he added.

Our regular church priest, Father Joseph Convin tried to convince Adrian to love God again and to come back to church.

But Adrian was adamant to hate God.

“The day my wife died is also the day God died for me,” Adrian told the priest.

 “The next time you come to my house, it will not me who will welcome you, it will be my dogs. And my dogs have fierce hatred for priests,” he added.

Father Joseph Convin never visited Adrian again.

******

I never wanted sadness for Adrian. I had loved Adrian with all my heart and I have always wished all the happiness in the world should be showered on Adrian.

But I can’t see him being happy with another woman in his arm. Like I said earlier one of the hardest things in life, is watching the person you love, love someone else.

******

Desire

Another fiction from me.  

Desire By Bissme S

I wanted a man to fall madly in love with me and then, I will betray him in the worst possible manner. This desire has been playing in my mind since I was young. I cannot give any rational reasons for this desire.

But I am sure that many psychologists would jump to conclusion that a man had betrayed me and now I have become a heartless monster who wants revenge at any price, and my revenge is I want to betray an innocent man.  The psychologists would scream that what is happening is a vicious cycle.

But believe me, I was not betrayed. And no unspeakable tragedies have taken place in my life that turned me into a heartless monster.  If any thing I had a wonderful life. I cannot ask for a better life.

The problem with many psychologists is that they like to give justification to every desire the human race has. But sometimes a desire is just a desire and there is not justification for some desires, and life is not just about vicious cycle.  

For many years I have suppressed this desire of mine.  I have tried to be a normal human being with normal desires. But I was miserable. Outside I was smiling but inside I was a restless tortured soul.  Silently, I was screaming in pain. Slowly, I was losing my mind.  Desperately I want my misery to end.  Desperately I want my pain to end.  Desperately I want my sanity back.

I learned the only way I can be happy and have some peace of mind if my desire becomes a reality. My desire cannot be suppressed, any more. My desire must be fulfilled at any price.

*****

The first thing I did was to sell off everything I owned and move to a smaller town where no one recognized me. I lied everything about me from my name to my hair colour.

I pretended to be a copywriter, attached to a well-known advertising agency. I was tired of the city and was looking for a quiet life, far from madding crowd.

My neighbours did not suspect anything suspicious. It didn't take me long to win their hearts. I have the kind of face that people will trust and love easily. Now come the hardest part. I had to pick a man whose heart I would break ...whose trust I would betray.

After many month of searching, I found my perfect candidate. His name is David Smith and he is a widower with four teenage daughters. His wife died in a terrible car accident. It was my close neighbour Mrs Jenkinson, who pointed him out while we were shopping.

Mrs Jenkinson told me the story of his life and the story of everyone who stays in this town. She is a walking encyclopaedia of this town. She knows everything that takes place here 

David has been a widower for five years. He and his late wife Carole was a perfect couple. They loved each other deeply.  David believed no one could take Carole’s place in his heart. Of course I was determined to change that. I was determined to prove him wrong.  I was determined to make him love me.

I learned that every Saturday, David and his four children would visit the library. The love for reading is one habit that father and daughters shared in common. So I got a job as a librarian. I wanted our first meeting to be spontaneous. The first time we talked, I complimented him on his beautiful and well- behaved daughters.  The compliment was enough to win any father's heart.

On their subsequent visits to the library, David and I began talking more and more .It didn't take him long to ask me out for a date. Slowly David was falling in love with me. I didn't only win David's heart but also the heart of his four teenage daughters. His children were jumping with joy when I agreed to marry David.

I really believed love can make a fool out of you and David was the perfect example.  He really believed ours would be a love story with a happy ending. But I was determined that our love story can have everything except a happy ending.

 

*****

Six months after our marriage I decided to put my plan into action. It was time for my desire to become a reality. David's happiness was at the highest point and this was the best time to betray him. 

Besides, I was getting a little too tired playing the perfect wife, the perfect mother and the perfect lover, and staying in this small town. I desperately wanted a change of scenery.

It was time for me to throw away my disguises and be what I am, a betrayer. Some people are just born to be a betrayer. 

David was looking for a second chance at happiness, love and marriage. But all he would get is misery.

*****

It was like any ordinary day in our household. David left for his work. Like always I would drive his daughters to their schools. We got into the car but we didn't head to their schools.

Instead I took them to the airport. We entered a plane that took us far away from where we came from.  Surprisingly, his daughters didn't show any signs of fears. If anything they were excited about the trip that we were taking. Children are easily pleased and are less suspicious. 

I can understand their excitement. It is their first time to be inside a plane. It is their first time to be so far away from their hometown. I had convinced them that their father would be meeting us as soon as we booked into our hotel rooms.

His daughters didn't suspect that I had an ulterior motive. Once we arrived at our destination, I took his daughters to a brothel that specialized in child prostitution. 

I left them there to suffer. My hand was full of cash. They have paid me for bringing his children there. As I walked away from the brothel, I was pleased with myself. A big smile formed on my face.  

I can imagine the scenario that is taking place in David's house right now. He would reach home and he would be extremely worried when he cannot find us anywhere. Police would be called. Missing report would be made.

A few hours later, the police would tell him the terrible truth - that everything I have told him was a lie including my name being Patricia Cook. He would felt betrayed. 

Indeed my desire had become a reality.  I had betrayed a man who loved me with all his heart. I will no longer be a tortured soul. Tonight, I can finally sleep, peacefully.

*****

Footnote: Five years has gone by, there is still no news on David's daughters. The police have given up any hope that David will see his daughters again. But not David Smith.

He told to a reporter with The Sun newspaper: "I believe God is great. God will listen to my prayers and return my daughters into my arms some day. God will not rob me of my children. God is not that cruel. God is not that heartless. God is great."

Ghost

 
Another fiction story.


Ghost By Bissme S

I tried to convince him that there is no such thing as ghost. But he refused to listen to anything I have said. He let fear destroyed his life. He let fear robbed his sanity. 
"What we have done is a sin," he said.
"She is going to punish us. God is going to punish us. We will be burned in hell."
He was so afraid of sleeping. He would go any length to stay awake including taking all kinds of drugs and countless cups of coffee.
Whenever he slept, he would have terrible nightmares where she was chasing us and making our lives a living hell.
"I do not want to sleep any more," he said
"I want the nightmares to stop. I want her to stop haunting us."
Of course it was impossible to stay awake forever. Each time he woke up from his sleep, he would  shout his lungs out. He sounded as if he was a war prisoner that was being  tortured, mercilessly.
Sometimes he would hit his head on the wall till it bleed, as a punishment for sleeping. I had no choice but to admit him in a mental asylum. I had high hopes the doctors will find a cure for his madness. But I was wrong.
In the mental asylum, his madness got worse and his fear reached to the highest peak. He lived in his own world and refused to speak to anyone except me. His doctors lost any hopes of curing him.
He spends his days and night drawing the woman that we had killed ... the woman that was haunting him...the woman he claimed is making his life a living hell.  His room was full of her portraits.
"I think God will forgive me," he said to me, out of the blue.
Those lines were enough to bring smiles to my face. For once I had hopes that he would recover.  But his next sentence was enough to tell me his madness will not end and fear has become his new companion.
"But I do not think she can ever forgive me," he added.
"She is not that forgiving."

****
A year after his arrival at the asylum, he ended his fear for once and all. He found a way to escape from the mental asylum. He ran towards a moving train, totally naked. He left a suicide note, addressed to me. 

Dear Jennifer
Death is the only thing that could give me the peace I desperately want. Sometimes death is not bad thing. Death is ending of all misery.
From your loving Jack.  

Those were his last words. In some ways, he was right. His death was the ending of his misery. He was no longer a tortured soul any more. He can't forgive himself for the murder we had committed. 
I, other hand, was totally different.. Oddly enough it was him who first suggested of killing her.
"Life will be better for us if she was not in our lives any more," he said to me.
I had reservation of killing her. But he can be very persuasive.
"Do you want to spend the rest of your life looking after her," he said.
"We are young. We are supposed to enjoy life. Not to be trapped in this house and looking after her. Sometimes death is not a bad thing. Death is ending of all misery. Her death will be the end of her misery ... and ours too."
Like him, I was tired of looking after her. The first time she broke the news of her illness, he was shocked. So was I. We have never seen her sick in all our lives.
All of us had tears in our eyes and we hugged each other tightly. We promised her that we look after her till her last breath and, we will be compassionate, caring and loving to her.    
She believed every word we told her. But we never kept to our promise. We never expected looking after a sick woman could be a real burden.
We underestimated her illness and overestimated our capabilities. Just waiting to see her doctors can be a tiring affair and can really test your patient. 
Constantly, dealing with her vomiting, her wetting her bed and her wailing in pain was enough to drive us crazy. Managing a full time job and looking after a sick person can be tremendously stressful.  And when the stress was too much for us to bear, he came up with the plan of killing her and dragged me into this diabolical plan.
Both of us put our head together and came up with a perfect plan. We pushed her out from our apartment's window. Naturally the police arrived at the scene. The police ruled out murder. The police came to a conclusion that she had jumped out from the window at her own will.
After all, her suicide letter was lying on the table.  Her suicide note was simple and says:   

My dear children,
I am in so much pain. I have stayed alive just for you. Please do not cry over my death. Sometimes death is not a bad thing. Death is ending of all misery.
From your loving mom
Jacqueline.

Of course my mother never wrote the suicide note. It was my brother who did it. The moment my mother's funeral was over, my brother madness began.
His guilt haunted him. He was convinced our mother has returned from her grave to punish us for being the ungrateful children. It was guilt that drove him to his death.
As for me I have not seen my mother's ghost. I never had nightmares where she was making our lives miserable.
My conscious didn't bother me at all. I have convinced myself that killing her was a necessary. My mother was in pain all the time and we just ended her misery. 
Of course it was a different story with my brother. I keep seeing him everywhere. He keeps begging me to end his misery.
I have no peace. I am anxious and nervous all the time. My friends tried to convinced me that there is no such things as ghost…..

Separation

* This story is totally fiction.

Separation By Bissme S

When I wanted to separate from my brother, my mother was not happy. She was convinced my decision would bring nothing good except extreme sadness into our lives.

She begged me to change my mind. For the first time in my life, I never listened to my mother. I broke her heart. I wanted the separation at any cost.

I was tired of living in my brother's shadow. I wanted to have my own identity. I wanted to have my own space. I have wanted to my own voice.

As long as my brother and I are together, I will never have my dreams come true. With my brother, only his opinions mattered. He always has the last say.

For years I have allowed my brother to walk all over me. I have allowed my brother to bully me. I have kept quiet. I have suppressed my frustrations.

But now I wanted my freedom. I didn't want my brother to dominate my life any more. Seeing my mother's grief, my brother didn’t want us to separate, too. 

He promised that he would change. He would become a better man. He would become a better brother. But I was not convinced.
”A leopard can change its spots but not my brother,” I said to him.

In the end I had my way. The separation took place. I thought I would have enjoyed my freedom. I thought I would finally have happiness.

But I was extremely wrong. My mother prediction became a reality. Our separation had a sad ending. Indeed it was a sad ending that was beyond my imagination.

Our separation killed our mother. The stress of our separation was too much for her to bear.  In the end, she suffered a heart attack and died
immediately.

My brother was furious beyond words. He held me responsible for my mother’s death.
"You wanted the separation so badly and now our mother is dead because of it," my brother shouted at me.
"I can never forgive you. You are dead for me. We are no longer brothers. I will never see you again. We will be separated forever. "

My brother just disappeared from my life. For many years I have written countless letters to my brother asking him to forgive me ... asking him to forget the past... asking us to be brothers again ... asking for a reunion.

He never answered any of my letters.

*****

Twenty years later, out of the blue, finally my brother   wrote a letter to me, agreeing to have a reunion…agreeing to let bygones be bygones… agreeing to forgive and forget.

I was jumping with joy. I prepared all his favourite dishes. I thought we are going to have feast and remember the good old days. But what my heart desired didn't come true.

My brother didn't turn up for our reunion.  A few days later he wrote me a long rambling letter telling me that he can't forget the past…He can’t
bring himself to forgive me.

"Mahatma Ghandi said that the weak can never forgive," my brother wrote in his letter
"Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong. But I am not strong enough to forgive you. I am not strong enough to forget the past. May be you are right when you said a leopard can change its spot but not your brother.”

His letter broke my heart. Now I am certain our reunion will never take place... we will never meet again... we will never be brothers again.

*****
Indeed separating me from my brother was not an easy task. There was a possibility one of us could have die. There is always a danger in separating twins that are joined.

Instead the operation went smoothly. We survived. But our mother didn't. In the waiting room our mother was worried to death about our safety on the operation table. The fear that one of us could die was dancing heavily in her heart

After the operation was completed, the nurse arrived at the waiting room to deliver the good news to my mother. But she was no longer alive.
She was found dead in her chair. She suffered a heart attack. Her worries killed her. Her fears killed her.

When my brother and I first heard her death, we had a hard time digesting the news. She was only 50 when she passed away. Indeed too young to die.

When my mother first gave birth to us, she cried her heart out.  She was totally disappointed and dishearten. No mothers wanted freaks like us as
children and my mother was no different.  It took her weeks before she laid eyes on us.

Once she held us in her arm, her heart melted and she stopped hating us. We became the joy of her life. She never allowed any surgery to perform on us.  She was afraid that one of us would die on the operation table.
"I cannot afford to lose any of my sons," she said to the doctor.

My mother was happy with she had. My mother was grateful with what God have given her. But my mom was not in my shoes. She cannot feel the misery I felt. She cannot feel the frustration I felt.

She didn’t have to endure the weird stares I got whenever my brother and I were out in the public. Joined twins always attract unwanted attention. I felt like a circus clown.  

She didn’t have a domineering brother who will not allow her to have her own voices.  In the end I broke my mother’s heart to pursue my own happiness. I would rather take the risk of dying on the operation table than enduring a life full of sadness… a life full of frustrations.

But happiness didn’t come the way I had imagined. If I have known the end will be like this, I would not have agreed to have the operation. I didn’t want my mother to die. I didn’t want to be separated from my brother forever

I would remain glued to my brother and suffered in silence.  Sometimes silent suffering is necessary. It can be a key to happiness. 

Mirrors & Hearts

Poem.

Mirrors & Hearts - By Bissme S

If a mirror
Breaks now
All of us
Could hear

But if a heart
Breaks now
None of us
Could hear

I can’t help asking myself
Why the suffering of
A broken heart
Is always silent.

A Beast With Talent

a poem from me.

A Beast With Talent - By Bissme S

In a room of many mirrors
Dance a ballerina
In front of a invisible audience

God was kind enough
To plant the talent
To dance beautifully
In her soul

With God's gift
And her hard work
She managed
To rise to the top
In the world of ballet
Then God and society played
A cruel sad joke with her

She was involved in a car crash
Where she loses her beauty
Where her beautiful face had turn
Into a scary looking beast
Heartlessly, the world of ballet
Close their door to the poor soul
For they know the audience
Only want to see
A beauty with a talent
Performing on a stage
Not a beast with talent
On stage.