morphosis

” God, morph me into an artist!” He cried, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Neither blossom, not fragrance. Not a lamp. Not even light. My soul is housed way beyond them all. “

Knelt on the floor, his hands joined in prayer. He quivered with apprehension and grief.

  ” Make my humble being, this malleable earthy attire your embodiment, adorned with all the humanness, flaws and turn me into a nothing.”

A handful of pearls dropped from his eyes, every so often.

And behold the marvel!

He was immersed in the sea of pearls. A powerful numinous glow encircled him. 

It happened when massive artillery barrage was unleashed at the town and the whole town went up in flames. Thick clouds of smoke crept inside the room where he said his prayers. All the pearls blackened and begrimed with smoke. 

Since then the scratching of his bones went slightly louder, when his blood gushed out on the paper stained it scarlet red.


🐚

The post is written in response to “Flash fiction for purposeful practitioners”.

Photo saved from A writers community.

Published by Smita Ray

Smita Ray is the mother of two lovely kids and hails from northeastern India. Her perpetual displeasure arising from the hypocrisy in the society underneath the semblance of religion, culture as well as the conditioning for compliance urged her to put down the impressions in her mind. In her spare time, she likes to have some culinary adventures along with her kids trying new recipes or crafting. She describes herself as -- a soulmate, a life alighted on the earth catching the rhythm passing by her. A tinge of joy colours her world and lays its feet on the land where revellers are awaiting her to get into the groove.

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