Feeling Raw - Part 1

In this post, I attempt to make public one of my short stories served in four portions. It is really raw, and I did not want to try to perfect it too much. It could kill a lot of elements. I am an amateur in many ways, but I figured that if I just scribbled away in my notebooks and hushed up the ideas in my head, there is not much worth in them. I needed to get my work 'out here'. 

Enjoy. And do share your thoughts. :)

Feeling Raw - Part 1

The day moved to an end, and the sky blushed with all its colours. It was too early to land up at the party, so I swerved near a bookshop that I just passed. Bachelor, 27, senior software engineer, Hyderabad, bored. That just about sums it all up. My life savings. In a city far from my love, my Kolkata, I started my career in Pune. From the small BPOs, I wound my way to thecity of Hyderabad, working for a prominent software company. Tech2Go. Arghh….even thinking of the name starts a pounding headache and I quickly kill the engine, slide the key from the ignition and walk off towards the quaint bookshop.

I’m sure I look dapper. Atleast, my chunky salary earns me some pleasure (other than the ones we both agree and smile wickedly about). With the tuxedo in place, swishing along my thighs, my suede shoes looking dapper in the fading light of the sky, like the dusky beauty glammed up in a bikini, water streaming down, across and over the contours of her body. Geez! I really must wait till I reach the party. Another perk being in a high-flying post. Lots of soft wares to inspect! Anyway, still bored and utterly hating the idea of being the first to show up. It’s a turn off. Trust me.

I head towards the store. The Little Black Shop of Books, the name reads. Weird. The cobbles etch a serpentine pathway across the lush green lawn. The thick canopy of trees covers the shop, so much so like it were a dark hazy lace that hid the luscious women of yore. One could easily miss The Little Black Shop of Books. Its rundown attire, unkempt style and raven leafy surroundings, you could just zip right past it. I too would have, if I had not been deliberately looking for a place to stop by for some time. A dusty lantern hung from the tree near the entrance. The shop in itself was quite small, with a pale rickety door, where strips of paint had come off. The window resembled a Victorian-age house, with the wooden crossbars, but the thick curtains that covered it let only a sliver of light pass through.

I stood in front of the main door. There did not seem to be a kindred soul in sight. I would have walked off in a couple more seconds till a distant music caught my attention. A beautiful melody, that slipped through the seams of your skin. Slowly it embraced you, knowing you, searching through you, for you. Like a slippery eel it took hold of me, and I walked straight in.