Writing Mysteries

(My writing recipe)

It was minutes before midnight. He closed the door of the room, which he shared with his two brothers. He stared blankly at the ceiling. There was a knock on the door. He ignored it. Silence. A few moments more; his phone did not beep to alert him of a message. He lost hope. He went in front of the computer.

Midnight,
I checked the luminescent hands of my wristwatch.
It was the only visible object in my room.
I lied on my bed, waiting.

Ten minutes passed.
My cellular phone; idle for the longest time.
I tried to reach you; a few rings,
More waiting.

I tried sleeping
So tomorrow I can say that I fell asleep, waiting.
Fixed my bed and arranged my pillows in their usual places on my bed.

I thought of you – the reason behind your disregard of me.
Then I fell into this pit.
But I was too tired to feel anything;
So I uttered no sound,
Not even a yell;
Even though it was a long fall.

The air was damp
And it was dark.
I lied there for a while trying not to move,
Just breathing.

One o’clock,
I saw the shining hands of my wrist watch
From the peripherals of my sight.
I stood up and switched the light on.
I was back in my room.

I got hold of the phone and dialed the number
I knew for months now.
You answered with a cold tone
That sent me shivering inside.
I said goodbye because you couldn’t talk.

At last my used to be idle phone sprang to life;
The sound of millions of crickets stuck inside my head.
I read the message you sent me.
I understood.

I sent myself back to bed
To wait once more.
Two hours after midnight.

He saved his work. He tried composing an essay for his class but his efforts failed. He picked up the book he was reading for days now; a compilation of short stories. He fell asleep.