The Grey Area

Daily Prompt :-
Waiting Room
“Good things come to those who wait.” Do you agree? How long is it reasonable to wait for something you really want?

The perception of a Good Thing varies from eye to eye. A person rarely considers the ramifications his desires can conceive, particularly affecting the people close to him.

The good things that we want, we crave, be it an opportunity or something else has the ability to manufacture immense destruction. It will hit us in the face or slowly poison us. Be sure of the things you consider good, because they may not be so.

The waiting part is rather tricky. How long to wait? As long as its necessary,  until you are satisfied. Until the right good thing comes by.

One of the most clichéd examples of waiting for the good thing – True Love. But ironically, people do not wait for it. They grab each and every opportunity that they think can lead to finding their desirous craving. When time after time their efforts are deemed futile, they are said to be in the perpetual waiting for the good thing.

There’s this old adage,

Whatever happens, happens for the good.

Frankly, I believe this is a phenomenon people made up to comfort themselves and hide their displeasure and hurt. Because honestly, not everything happens for the good.

So here comes The Grey Area, bringing forth the bewilderment and the disarray. There is no waiting.
You either get it and you’re wait is over or you don’t get it and wait till you do. But actually, there’s no waiting. You do grab each and every opportunity. You just call the time period you fail to get your supposedly good thing, waiting.

So, be patient and grab the hell out of each and every moment. Because any moment now, your wait will be over.

The Call

Daily Post :-
Bad Signal
Someone’s left you a voicemail message, but all you can make out are the last words: “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you months ago. Bye.” Who is it from, and what is this about?

A disturbing day, indeed!
Its 2 AM. Something isn’t right. There’s this sensation, on my neck, like there are thousands of eyes on me. Chthonic eyes. Belonging to dark, deep places.

I rush to the house I live in. It isn’t my home. Nowhere is Home. I enter to hear sounds coming from the phone. Its a message, one I can’t decipher. Muffled voices, eerie. Like something is being hidden. Then, clarity returns.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you months ago. Bye!”

I know this voice. I’ve heard this voice singing me to sleep. Its of that Greek priestess with gray eyes. Gray eyes.

She left me at the orphanage. All I remember is her wrinkled hands holding mine, being wrenched from her arms. The orphanage never found my parents. Maybe that is why I feel I don’t belong anywhere. I try to remember more about her. What could she have wanted to say to me.

There’s this pressure on my head. Gasp! I fall down to my knees. Images flash through my head.

Storm. Shore. Sand, God, so much sand. Coffin. A baby wailing. Gray eyes. Those wrinkled hands.

Now the pain is more intense, spreading throughout me. Now the images flashing are painful. My eyes hurt. I clench them shut, hoping for the images to stop. They don’t.

The same shore. Dark hooded faces. A scroll. Fire. A great beautiful beckoning fire. Carnage. Bodies writhing in pain. Apocalypse.

I open my eyes.

I have a shore to find. I have a mission to complete.