Their marriage was a failure in the eyes of some…well… most people. They never spoke about what they were thinking. About what they wanted. He was always gone and she was always unavailable. No one knew the reason they wed, not even them. She liked to think it was because they were both shaken trees in the middle of the storm holding each other up with broken branches. Beat up but still there for one another. Those words were even in her vows. She meant them. He kept his thoughts to himself. He didn’t mean to. They shared a bed, but she liked the couch more. She couldn’t handle the whispering in their room. She thought it was the ghost of their love trying to sneak back into their hearts, at least into hers. “Why should I let you in? I don’t want to get hurt again,” she said to the spirit of what was once something good, something healthy.

A cold, harsh wind swept through the window, and she felt something eerily familiar. She loathed that feeling. Just as quietly as that breeze swept past her face, so did memories of sleepless nights and strange sensations of grief and guilt. Suppressed, but just like her, somehow, someway, still living and breathing misery. She rose from her place on the couch and stumbled over to her room, not quite awake. She went there for something, she knew it. She never goes in there to sleep. Not anymore. The whispers returned, and breathed an utterance of importance into her ear. A burst of energy awoke in her and she began to look through every drawer and every cabinet in her solemn chamber. “Fortitude,” brushed past the back of her eyes like Bunny’s blue ribbon and through her ears like a soft lullaby to a newborn child. Swiftly and carelessly, she ran to their backyard, to Fortitude, the little shed they built when they first married. It was more like she sat in the background reading a book aloud as he hammered and drilled scraps of wood and metal together. It held.

Her favorite books were stashed in the little shack, and his most beloved records were hidden somewhere in it, too. She wasn’t looking for any of that. She scrambled around the shed and rearranged and dismantled every cabinet in it to find what she knew would make the whispers leave, to find what they were leading her to.

The letters were buried under a mess of pipes and garbage. He must have left it there before he left. She shook at the sight of it, and considered leaving it all there, and staying with the miserable memories that plagued her every so often, but leaving those wretched reminders there. She even considered breaking Fortitude back to the scraps she came from. As she leaned out of the doorway, a wave of tears engulfed her. Quickly, she turned and braced herself to tear away at the trash in front of her to get to the treasure. She shook the dirt and junk off the notebook of papers and pictures and sat unknowingly in the filth.

“Are you still afraid of the dark?” She began to laugh as she read, with tears in her eyes, the first line of the letter he had written her all those years ago. “Of course I am,” she started “but you always protected me from it.” “It’s ok if you are,” the letter read, “I am too. Not because I don’t know what’s there, but because I don’t know what’s missing.” Her laugh faded and a frown took its place. “I don’t know if you’ll leave. Then I’m afraid of the sun. I get scared that when it rises and shines through our window the next morning, your smile won’t shine along with it.” “It did” she commenced. “It will. Just come back!” she let out as tears began to stream down her rose colored cheeks. “But then I think of the memories we made, and I’m not afraid anymore,” she read aloud. “But I am,” she answered. “I’m not afraid because you’re always in my mind. Your name is always on my tongue. I’m not afraid because I know you’ll always live as long as I don’t forget. So don’t forget me, and I’ll always live.” She held on to that part, and she kept Fortitude in place.

"Don't talk to strangers " was what my mom used to tell me. She said it today too but it fell on my deaf ears. And now I can feel those words mocking at me, bit by bit.

I should have really listened to mom.

I lied to her by saying that I'm going out to play. In fact, I was heading to the old dilapidated building a few blocks away, just to have a look at it ...... alone. It was foolish.Maybe dangerous too ...I know but the rebel inside of me compelled me not to think so much about it. The darkness seemed so tempting yet so mysterious.

It was fun until my eyes fell on him.

 And there he stood. The bad man everyone talked about. With his coat creased, a fat cigar between his lips and those hungry beady eyes, he resembled the big bad wolf and me, the stupid red riding hood.

My mind screamed at me to run but I just stood there watching him walk towards me in slow calculated steps. He held out his hand and offered me some candy. I took it but didn't eat it yet. Uttering some sugary words he lured me inside, holding my hand in a tight grasp. And I don't know what happened next but the world went black. Or maybe because I was knocked out cold.

Next morning I awoke in in the attic, tied to an old stringy bed with chains. Rust particles had gathered on the bed poles, the chains, and even the door hinges. The windows seemed to be nailed shut and a weird musky odor hung in the air. I could hear him climbing the stairs,approaching closer to where I was sitting. His heavy boots scuffed the hard wooden floor in loud thumps that made my heart beat faster by every passing minute. I don't know if I was ever this scared before.  He stood at the doorway,staring at me as if I'm his new found toy.  His hands held a jug and a steel tumbler.

"Are you thirsty?" He asked gruffly. I chose to keep quiet. This seemed to annoy him. He trudged even closer and I could see him looking at me with disgust.

" I said, are you thirsty?"  He spoke louder.

I shook my head.

He placed he jug and tumbler on the small table close to the bed and sat next to me.

" Don't worry. I'll take care of you, you will make new friends. ......at the graveyard." He smirked and my heart dropped in my throat. I started to cry. He raised his hand to touch my cheek but I pushed it away. His smiled turned into an ugly sneer and he raised it again, this time higher to hit my face. I closed my eyes waiting for that stinging burn of that slap. But i felt nothing. Loud footsteps rambled along the staircase and in no time we were facing a group of angry cops, who were pointing guns at him and ordering him to surrender. He began to laugh at them and held my hand in an icy grip. No sooner one of the cops pulled the trigger and shot him down.

 Bang bang. He fell on the ground.

Soon the cops pulled away from his body and began to talk to me but I still chose to keep quiet. I kept staring at the jug. The chief carried it in his hands and looked at me.

" Wake up! " And he splashed icy cold water on my face.I woke up and found myself staring at my mom's face in confusion. I looked around and realised I was in my own bed.

I heaved a sigh of relief and wiped the sweat over my brow. No sooner did I place my feet on the floor , I regretted it . The cold jug touched my feet and I picked it up , grimacing at the blood stains on it. I looked at the clock and decided to clean it up later. So I bend down and placed it under my bed. That's when I saw it. The severed head of my captor , stinking with its own blood and looking at me with bulging eyes , a sign of astonishment. The police never came to my rescue so I had to be my own hero. Though I did wish the axe was a bit lighter to hold . I smirk at it and get ready to go to school. Tonight I'm meeting new friends at the graveyard.

She was so disheartened and depressed. A leading archer of India was lying on the bed just before a week to the Olympics. Rita Dixit, a leading sports personality of India, met with a severe accident on the way to the airport. Her flight was about to depart when her taxi got hit by a fast-moving truck near the airport. After 18 hours, when she woke up, she saw that she was lying on a hospital bed. Soon she got to know what had happened with her. She started crying with tears rolling down her cheeks when she was informed about her broken legs. She asked if she could ever walk again, but her doctor replied negatively. She broke down from inside. She thought that her life was of no use now, but her family and friends continued to motivate her; they were very supportive. But her condition didn't improve. Her parents sent her to antidepression classes, spent quality time with her, and invited her friends to their home. But their continuous efforts made no change in her health. Then, at last, when everybody had lost hope, Rita's sister came up with a great idea. She went to her sister and told her the latest happenings and then asked her to wake up early the next morning because she was going to take her somewhere. Unwillingly, Rita said yes. The next day she took Rita to an academy of Archery for the specially-able people. When she asked her sister, why had she brought her there, she said smiling," Sister, you are a talented archer, and the whole world knows this. You cannot lose hope. This accident was your destiny. You have to move on, and start practicing for the next Paralympics. We all know you can do it. You are an inspiration for everyone. Please join this academy and start practicing. An accident cannot stop you from achieving your dream." Hearing this, Rita thought that her sister was right; a small accident cannot be claimed as a failure. She needs to move on and work hard to achieve success and fame.

She thanked her sister and said, "Thanks sister, I will surely not let you down. I will join this academy and practice hard for the next Paralympics and make my family & country proud." Rita had 3 years to practice for the Paralympics. She practiced day & night to fulfil her dream. Then finally, the day of selection for the Indian archery team for Paralympics came. By the luck and tough practice she was selected in the team. She happily went to the Paralympics. She qualified the semi-finals but her finale was with one of the best archers in the world. She was quite nervous but she soon remembered her sister's words. She thought that she should not lose hope. With great determination and willpower, she beat her opponent. When she returned to India with a gold medal, on the airport a huge crowd of people were waiting for her arrival. In the press conference, when she was asked about her success mantra, she simply said, “Never lose hope. Hope is 'HOLD ON PAIN ENDS'."

THE END

Thank you

By Tamanna