The Scream is the work continuing WEP’s art theme for this year’s flash fiction prompts.
We’ve been invited to give a tagline this month so:
A battered and brutalised orphan child discovers sliver of humanity
Edvard Munch was a Norwegian born artist who split much of his working life between Berlin and Paris. Mental health issues ran in the family, so Munch had occasion so observe its effects from close proximity. He was much influenced by Impressionists and post-Impressionists such as van Gogh. [writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com]
IN SEARCH OF AN OASIS
By Neel Anil Panicker
Her screams ricocheted off the high ceilinged roof and bounced off the heavily panelled though beautifully done up four walls of the seventh floor corner office facility.
Dr Sumedha Chakraborty, eminent psychiatrist with an advanced degree in Child Behavioral Psychology heaved a sigh of relief.
Relief that the wild maniacal shrieks of her patient would die within the four walls of her clinic.
Dr Sumedha had finally found the perfect place to set up her clinic post taking ‘early retirement’ from St. Michael’s Medical College & Hospital, a place that had become second home for her for over a decade and some.
For once the property agent’s words who had helped her get the comfy work space came true.
After having to deal with a baker’s dozen estate agents over the past seven years, she had finally found someone for whom promises were not just empty rhetoric to be mouthed but nevee delivered.
Once more the eminent psychiatrist’s faith in humanity had been restored.
But what about her? What about this oh so fragile teenager? Would this girl, barely sixteen, and cruelly robbed of all of life’s sweetness, be ever able to trust a other human being? Would she be ever, and if so, how long, how many years would it take for this young girl to claw her way back to life, one that would be woven with all the vybgyoric colours if happiness? A life sans the brutal hellish scars, both mental and physical of a life torn asunder by evil hands, devilish hands that were bestial enough to lack any whiff of human soul.
The very thought made Dr Sumedha shudder. Despite being in the business of treating scarred minds, Dr Sumedha was rattled enough by what she was seeing.
Here was a young girl, an orphan to boot, a woman who had lived nee merely existed, who had known nothing in her sixteen sorry years of sordid existence save beatings, that too with knuckle belts, was kept in chains, forced to go hungry for days altogether, and worst of all, raped on a continual basis- first by the man she called ‘Father’, the burly middle aged owner of the eponymous Father Ignatiius’ Home for Orphans.
The ‘Father’ had been her tormentor in chief, but there were other claimants to her nubile body, a near ending letinue of savage beasts who would feast on her body, rip apart every sinew and muscle as they satiated their carnal deprivations on a hapless, defenceless child.
All this was her plight, continued day and night until the day she was rescued by the police acting on an anonymous tip off by a Good Samaritan.
The young girl’s wild cries gradually softened, slowly ebbing into controlled sobs.
Dr Sumedha kept quiet, silently watching over as her young client cried her heart out, the slow metronomic sobs serving as the only yet all important communication between the two.
At last, Dr Sumedha got up, and walked over to the couch.
She then bent down and hugged the young girl.
For a long time thereafter, doctor and patient, looked into the other’s eyes.
This time young Sabeena wasn’t the only one who had tears in her eyes.
That evening as Dr Sumedha headed for home, she wasn’t alone.
She had her child with her, her ‘baby’, the girl she hadn’t given birth but one who was dearer to her than all the children in the world.
That evening, both were reborn, one as a mother, the other as daughter.
Both, had found a new home for themselves, a home that would shield them from wolves in sheep’s clothing, a despicable breed that infested the jungle called life.
WC: 601 WORDS