That Golden Hour

That Golden Hour

Waves came crashing on the coast and splayed on it like a mirror. They rose over the sea like spirits of the dead. Like pangs of a buried past they stretched, and like dreams of last night in the morning were lost to the shore. The sun, meanwhile busily painted everything in gold. The light sieved though faint clouds and spread around creating the magical golden hour for perfect silhouettes. And amidst all this I sat, with the rhythmic billowing of the sea splashing against me, while it foamed the same dreaded words:

“When will you decide what to do next? When?” The question that like a ghost from my past had haunted for 3 years straight, now came haunting every 5 seconds, spreading itself over the entire coast and then retreating only to come closer, stronger than before and take away with it the little stable ground I was left with. The question to which I had a hundred times said, “One day… I will, and you will see,” today splashed against me, lending the reins of my fears back to this one question. To this – “When?”

And so I sat there as fear ruled me again. Staring blankly at those words, as they washed against my feet, holding me, pulling me with them, burying me deeper than I already was. I started sweating cold, my throat choked, and the words seemed hazy.
Those nightmares that wake you up all sweaty, panting and thirsty… this one was mine.

I sat there, my vision starting to blur, and remembered my answer, the one I always said, “One day… I will, and you will see.” I smiled, as tears rolled down my eyes and focused on the words before me, and repeated-

“When?”

The waves kept coming, the sea kept roaring, but there was one thing more, this time it wasn’t just the shells that were weeping.

– Shy

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Shreyas Joshi
To write about myself is the toughest task I have ever faced. I guess my writings would give you a hint about who I am...... Till then, happy reading.

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