I smell smoke.
But it doesn't feel like real smoke. It is not dense neither suffocates me. Contrarily, I feel good in it. It's calming, mysterious and magnetic. I keep walking up the paved brick street.
Lured by smoke I take multiple turns in the village passing by children chuckling and playing hide & seek . Though they weren't even the tiniest bit budged by this mysterious smoke. But I want to see the source.
My curiosity brings me to a person in white robes, walking away from me. His hands and feet were visible. He was wearing a wooden sandal. Hand and feet were coal like. Not in color only, they were actually burning the white robes and sandal. Producing invisible smoke. He keeps walking a gentle tread. Making a characteristic sound of wooden sandal. But it looks like no one can hear, see or feel it. No one observes it.
Robes tattered. His lesser-skin was opening up more and more. It looked beautiful. Pitch black darkness peeking through bright white robes. Black was majestic. It was overpowering everything. It was magnetic. I enjoyed mere beholding the spectacle and a silent discourse with it.
The more tattered the robe gets, the more body was visible. And it was nothing of flesh, bones or blood. It was a void, all-encompassing, enigmatic and overwhelming black depth which only I could see.
I felt the need to shout to everyone to see this magi, behold and store this marvel in their memories. However, I had to suppress that need otherwise I would have been an outcast and the darkness was a little sickening as well. Burning me from distance.
But then I see a lady showed up there, probably, in pursuit of this smoke. She completely ignored me. Ignored so indifferently that I doubted my very own existence. She passed by me, in pursuit of the darkness, the origin, the enigma. He was walking towards cemetery and that lady, unaware of surroundings, was blindly following him.
My déjà vu says he will go into mausoleum and pick up a shovel, which he indeed did. He starts digging in the cemetery. His pitch black grip left permanent black marks on the shovel. I could see smoke getting out of his grip. Somehow, the enigma didn't burn. Everything else did, I did, lady did, universe did. His robes were completely burnt now. He was working on the hole without caring for anything. Not even the lady. Not me.
He was in madness and she was numb and gazing into the darkness. She couldn't pierce his non-existent heart. I felt sad on this sight.
The hole was taking shape of a grave. It wasn't very deep, though deep enough to cover a body. Then the shovel broke down from his grasp. It was turning into coal. The environment filled with smoke. He kneeled down to clean the grave with his hands. His right sandal ruptured. He puts his right feet into the grave, jerks the left sandal off, steps into the grave and lie down. The lady embraces the dead. He was consuming it. I rushed to take her off from the body but she was gelled. Together they weighed heavier than the entire cosmos.
The enigma was intact. She was slowly turning into ashes like a cigarette. Enigma was smoking her.
It was a murder.
A blasphemous murder.
Ashes were spread all around the enigma. He devoured her. He was lying there in the ashes, like a beaut on a rose petals bed. He closed his eyes.
I couldn't believe myself and I had no idea if anyone else could see this. I filled the grave with soil and levelled it.
Following night, I saw a dream.
I see that my astral projection experiment started working. The projection left my limbs first. Then it leaves my head. But a string is attached between our heads. String of light and energy, keeping the spirit bright and dazzling. The projection completely leaves me but the string is intact. The spirit leaves the house and walks away. When I lose sight of it, the string breaks and I wake up.
I rushed towards the door
I smell smoke.
But it doesn't feel like real smoke. It is not dense neither suffocates me. Contrarily, I feel good in it.
What? What's happening ...
Is it déjà vu or what?
I kept after the smoke into streets.
I see the enigma in white robes. Inside of which is black. Same majestic black.
Oh no! Another murder is going to happen...
I have to stop it. I have to. It's important. But the enigma isn't my spirit, or is it?
When his robes started to tear, I put my own robes on it. My white robes in which I sleep. This time on the way to cemetery. A lady passed by, but she couldn't see anything. Robes worked wonders. I got that self-righteous feeling of a savior. Yes, I did indeed saved her.
The enigma keeps moving, lies into the grave and then I fill the grave up and level it.
And you know what? I do this every night. I see my spirit leave, I follow it, hide the darkness, put robes on it and escort it into the grave. Saving one life at a time, killing another one every night...
PS: No PS.
Well, there is one.
PS: Spoiler: Listen to this awesome track. It's fun. https://soundcloud.com/j4jml/bujhi-hui-shama-ka-dhuan-hoon