The opalescent sun was drifting tranquilly, doing its last bit of responsibility before the moon took over. The black clouds, however, were poised on the edge of the horizon, where the sun resided, as if conspiring to thwart the sun, and created a mesh of orange and yellow (as the sun emerged the victor). Soon the ephemeral stars were to puncture the clouds and shine its light, hundreds of years old. So old that the stargazers on earth were not even born when it left to embark on its journey. So old that it made one wonder, how old the stars might be?
Himal, sitting in the corner of the coffee shop, wondered the same thing. He thought of the immenseness of the universe. He thought of its resilience to change, even though millions of life had appeared and were still to appear. He thought of himself as a tiny speck on a vast painting, capable of doing nothing except what the painter wanted him to do.
“Maybe he wanted me to be a computer engineer,” he thought, as he sat sipping his coffee on the corner of the coffee shop. He had received a call from a person claiming to have worked in the same office as his. Even though he had not been able to recognize him at that time (neither now as he searched for any fragments of memory), he agreed to meet the stranger in this coffee shop. “Strange” he thought, “people know me although I have no idea of who they are.”
As a child he was categorized as an “average child with some potential.” Throughout his childhood, he believed he had something special, even though one glimpse on his progress report was enough for anyone to dismiss the hypothesis. Then, he saw himself as an affluent person with an Aston Martin in his garage. The thought of owning a James Bond car had gripped him so much that the effect did not wear off even after a couple of years after realizing the ridiculousness. But now, as he sat sipping his coffee on the corner of the coffee shop, the feeling slowly resurfaced as he thought about “the plan” the anonymous caller had talked about.
“It is my turn” he assured himself. “It is my turn to show the world my capabilities,” he said emphatically to the part of his sub-conscious trying to restrain him from wandering too much. Two times already, he had felt the sudden stint of adrenaline pumping into his blood as colleagues from his office walked into the shop for their daily dosage. “Hey there Himal! All alone!” they laughed at him. He did not pay attention to the satire on their exclamation, because his anxiousness grew more and more, waiting for that elusive caller. He checked his watch for the nth time.
The day before, 31st March, something amazing had happened beside that call. Things slowly seemed to fall in their right places for Himal. His boss (of all people) had walked all the way to his tiny cubicle to congratulate him, personally, on the success of the class he had programmed. A rare smile of true satisfaction formed on his face. He straightened his posture, which added an air of proudness in his demeanor.
Inevitably, the proud posture was gone. Still the caller did not appear. “Five more minutes” he assured the same part of his sub-consciousness. By now, programmers, analysts and other employees from his company filled half of the shop. It was dark. The sun was gone and the moon seemed to give little interest on what was happening. Himal, staring out of the window, saw a small stout figure get out of a Maruti. The sodium lamps provided enough light for Himal to see the kind of clothing the person was wearing. A black over coat and a matching hat shrouded the identity of the stranger. Again, he felt the adrenaline, as he saw the figure heading for the coffee shop. “This is it,” he thought. Strangely, it was the same thought that crossed all of the company employees present in the coffee shop.
The door opened. Himal thought of running towards the stranger, but he had an unusual self-restraint today. He sat there waiting for the stranger to approach him. He did not even look in the stranger’s direction, as if to appear uninterested like the moon. But inside, all sorts of thoughts were being formulated. “5-6 million rupees” the stranger had said on the phone.
“Himal?” the familiar voice called. He promptly showed the stranger a chair next to him, with a professional air to his gesture.
All eyes were transfixed on the pair. Even the waiters and clerks sensed some unusualness in their usually mundane shop. For once, the china cups were abandoned, and the coffee inside grew cold as a result. People did not seem to care as all anticipated what would happen next. Himal and the stranger were still talking. But anyone in the crowd of spectators could notice the sudden joy palpable through his demeanor.
“So what do you think?” asked the stranger.
“Splendid. When do we start?” asked Himal.
“I’ll tell you in our next meeting” said the stranger. And started to leave. Himal was following him like a pup would follow its mother, asking questions that would not be answered.
“What is your name?”, “What is your number?”, “When do we meet?”
But the stranger did not feel the question were important as much as what was going to happen. After all it was the sole reason he accepted to wear such a stupid hat.
Himal satisfied and elated by his encounter turned for the counter to pay his bills. But unexpectedly everyone started to laugh. Their laugh reverberated and Himal felt small and scary like a mouse cornered by 50 cats. He could not comprehend the situation and looked on all direction to find a clue, to join them in their laughter.
“April Fool” someone shouted over all the chaos. Himal shrank and could not think what to do. Impulsively, he wanted to cry his heart out. However, his rational said it would make him a laughing stock even for the days to come. He tried suppressing his tears. He knew his eyes were getting wet but he was determined he would not cry.
“You will not cry” he told himself. But that assurance was no enough to overcome the great impulse to let go off the tears. He wept in front of all those staring eyes, hungry for what he would do next.
Up in the sky, the stars did not appear that night.
Author notes
This is my first story posted in storywrite. Hope you guys like it.
And I didn't know which category to put it in.
Hope to receive lovely comments from y'all.
A contest entry
- For The Trophyless Only by Andy Stephenson.
175 points, ended October 24, 2007, 18 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - I Want to Want More by Kitzwa.
225 points, ended November 25, 2007, 31 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Bronze Trophy Contest by whichcraft.
300 points, ended December 9, 2007, 13 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Quality by purplelirpa.
1150 points, ended January 25, 2008, 18 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Give me something worth reading! by Miss Belligerence.
175 points, ended May 4, 2008, 45 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Emotive and Descriptive by tallblondie.
1050 points, ended May 31, 2008, 50 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - They Were Wrong! by callthexylophone.
600 points, ended May 17, 2008, 20 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 12 of 12
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This is really very good. I would have liked to have had just a little more detail regarding the conversations between Himal and the man wearing the hat, and also a bit more about Himal's character and personality. If we knew more about Himal, and could identify with him more, then his humiliation at the end would be even more powerful than it is. But this is a very fine story. Your writing is lean, compact, sharp, clean, vivid and expressive.
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Interesting, interesting.
I liked this. I liked the plot, I liked the style, I liked the futility of the character and I liked how cleanly the story read. You have a few rough spots in your grammar, but if you look up GrannyFrikkinSmith on Storywrite, she can help you with that better than I can. Welcome to SW, and good luck in my contest! -
Grammer/punctuation errors;
[1] 'shine their light' rather than 'its light' and 'when they left' rather than 'when it left' and 'they' not 'it' - you referred to the stars - plural rather than singular ownership.
[2] 'lives' not 'life'
[3] “Strange,” he thought - needs the comma
[15] 'questions' rather than 'question' - the stranger asked more than one
[17] “April Fool,” someone shouted... needs a comma
Overall, an engaging piece. I loved the opening description of the sky, as well as the feeling of ambiguity felt by Himal leading up to the rather cruel joke.
Thank you for your entry.
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I really liked the beginning of this story, you've got some great description and imagery, some good emotions flowing. The ending seemed a bit abrupt for me though.
thanks for entering
-gibson -
Thanks for your entry however I have already commented on your story and co-hosted the contest in which this story came out a bronze. By considering your story, I don't think it would be fair to others.
I did mention in my contest to refrain from submitting a story that I have already commented on. Please take the time to read these notes as it is very important, especially in situations such as this when I can't judge your story. Thanks. -
Interesting
This was a sad tale. You made us feel for you main character and you pulled a cruel joke on him and us, your readers. Good job! I did not expect the ending. I felt quite sorry for Himal. This is pretty well written. Thanks for entering our contest.
Andy
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For your first story posted, you did your best. Your writing piece was coming along nicely and it seems like everyone in the coffee shop was in on the little joke. For such a short story, there wasn't enough background as to why they would all play such a terrible joke. Unless I misread your theme or message, I don't understand why they would have to be so brutal.
I feel for your character but wonder what did he do to deserve this? Maybe a little more insight into his charcter or the person or people who set him up? That would make for an interesting build up in the story. Bottom line - good story. It just needs a little more backdrop. -
The ending drove me crazy. I feel like you turned a very interesting story into something hight-school and childish. It was going SO WELL till I got to that last paragraph, and it turned into the same story that I read 15 times a day on SW.
Please make this ending punchier. This story has a lot of potential, and I don't want to see it go to waste. -
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yeah...i think i should do amends to the ending.
But thank you for your great comments people, I really appreciate it. I can't wait to finish my exams, I have these whole bunch of ideas floating in my head.
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very good. i think theres a cliffhanger, though
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a cliffhanger? i didn't understand.
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"The opalescent sun was drifting tranquilly, doing its last bit of responsibility before the moon took over. The black clouds, however, were poised on the edge of the horizon, where the sun resided, as if conspiring to thwart the sun, and created a mesh of orange and yellow (as the sun emerged the victor). Soon the ephemeral stars were to puncture the clouds and shine its light, hundreds of years old. So old that the stargazers on earth were not even born when it left to embark on its journey. So old that it made one wonder, how old the stars might be?"
^^I loved that first paragraph, but I think you mentioned "sun" in it a bit too much. I know there are no synonyms for it, but you could try to spread out the word itself.
The ending was a bit...unended. I didn't feel it does the story justice. Maybe add more suspense or detail? Anyway, cool story.
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