Diary: Midnight Brownies and a Short Story

Shortest stories often have the most beautiful parts, because they aren't lengthy enough to the point that you can already decipher what’s gonna happen next. Or perhaps there are loose ends which you could change into a different interpretation. Or maybe it’s just a piece of brownie- delicious, yet insufficient no matter how many you consume.

I was about to write about a sad story, but brownies flipped my frown to a smile. So I guess it will be a happy story now. However, what is a happy story? Should I write about brownies then? No…. How about chocolate cake? Wait, is there any difference between them?...

Yup, the procedure of preparing them is slightly different. I don’t know much; I wasn’t the best chef in my life. Well, I used to order much of my food online. There’s a great fast food place around the corner- the meals are more than spicy enough to burn your tongue and make you sweat. Dammit, all this food talk has made me hungry. Surprisingly though, I don’t really feel the need to eat.

I don’t feel like doing anything anyway. All these people being a hundred and a ten percent productive twenty four by seven in all my social media accounts: how do they stay like this? Sure, you get that sudden burst of energy to finish all your tasks and even take on some extra projects, but then there is this long lag that makes you stop doing everything and binge-watch YouTube or Netflix. I think everyone does the same, but puts on a filter once they’re out in the real world. Not complaining though- always put on your best suit for the world, my dad used to say.

Speaking of suits, I haven’t worn any lately. I always have this unexplainable interest in suits, boots and ties. It makes me feel confident, bold and smart, even though it’s simply a set of clothes. It is quite interesting how certain objects which seem so translucent, or maybe even invisible, hold so much power over all of us. You wouldn’t think highly of a simple piece of wool-woven cloth, but if it were a sweater from a loved one, it would be the greatest thing you ever possessed. Probably, the materials never mattered, but it’s the forms they take that hold immense power.

Am I getting philosophical? Not really, philosophy is a really deep topic and even though at times it feels like you’ve figured out how life works, you face another new season of life, neatly prepared just for you to cope with. What I’m trying to say is, I haven’t figured out what life was or should be, and what the actual motive is behind every minute detail in our lives. Life goes on.

I once heard a song with that title. It was in another language, but the voices of the singers were ethereal. It had this soothing tone, although I don’t have the slightest idea what the lyrics meant. Maybe it was the melody and the voices that made the song a standout among the rest. You see, our brain is more prone to be swayed by emotions rather than rationale- at least if you’re not a robot in disguise of a human. That’s why they add sound effects in certain scenes in a movie or an opera series; it brings out the story, the emotions, the passions…

Passions….. My mind thinks about books. Old books. New books. Online books. All books. They are like portals. We might never invent portals to unknown universes, but we have books to suffice our mental needs to escape from this world. Everyone has different tastes in reading. Some prefer sugar-coated sweet romance; some opt for blood curdling horrors; some like brain-bobbling detective stories…… I like no particular genre in general. I’m that one weirdo who wants to feel the story, as if I’m actually a part of that novel; to feel the passion behind every carefully crafted line; to cry and to laugh with the characters; to feel as if they were real, not some imaginations….. Those books are one hell of rare gems.

What’s that noise? Something fell down downstairs. It’s already midnight, and this slight commotion is loud enough for waking up the whole neighborhood…. If it were near my house. I stay pretty far from the neighborhood (not that far, mind you): all the people moved nearer to the city suburbs. Maybe I should consider moving too. Been a long time here…..

You know what’s annoying? Trying to come up with an interesting plot for a story, but end up thinking about random bits of these worldly affairs. On top of that, some guy tries to break into your house at that time. When will I ever get some peace?

Oh, here he is. Aww, he’s checking out the drawing room, I see. Wow, he looks like some explorer trying to discover a wrecked ship. He is quite tall, with a slim frame and agitated hand movements. I could make a story about him then. However, how am I supposed to describe his facial features? He’s not turning towards me. Can he not feel any presence in this room? I am just behind this dude! 

I do feel shy that he found my house in such a mess. It’s been ages since I cleaned and dusted the chambers. The window-panes have become opaque, the furniture have become grey from polished wood….. I should be productive now-a-days.

Great, he finally noticed me. Did I mention there is a beautiful mirror in our living room? It has this diaphanous golden frame with a crystal-like mirror fit into it. When you look into your reflection, it seems like your reflection is on a still pond on a cool, wind-less, bright summer afternoon. I can see his reflection in the mirror now. Wow, he looked… well… affluent. He has a fringe of golden locks brushing his enormous emerald eyes, sharp jaws with stubble and thin pink lips. He looked like a gentleman in his mid-twenties, fresh out of campus and out with a decent job. Well, you should never judge a book by its cover. Woah, like a flash, he suddenly dashes out of the house. Here goes another one. It’s been the fifth one this month.

I’m not that scary, c’mon now. I died just a couple of years back.