WOW: The Splashing Sound – Version 2 – A Post To Celebrate The Second Anniversary Of My Blog
Author’s Note: This week’s WOW prompt at Blogadda tells us to reblog an old post with shining new content and publish it as a fresh post. And incidentally, today is the second anniversary of my blog. I started my blog two years back on this day. My blog has come a long way since the time I posted my first article. As a new addition this blogging year, I have started writing fiction. I have begun writing flash fiction as well as long fiction. I have also published two eBooks belonging to the thriller fiction genre at Amazon. My blog’s viewership has also increased considerably. Yesterday I was telling my friend Krishnakumar Subramaniam about the post I was planning to publish to commemorate my blog’s second anniversary. He misunderstood what I had said and asked me whether I was planning to write a story. I told him I was going to publish a post listing my achievements as a blogger in the second year of my blogging career. But later in the night, I saw the WOW prompt at Blogadda and decided I would write a story after all. My blog is beginning its third innings. I want my readers to take time to read the earlier post on which the following story is based. Click here to read the earlier story. The earlier story is a dark foreboding tale that is meant to horrify. The modified one I post here is meant to inspire confidence and leave the reader with renewed hope. The idea is to change the context of a story and demonstrate how two different trains of thought can reflect horror or hope. The main change is in the nature of the story. The idea is to turn a terrifying tale to a touching and moving one of hope and courage. This post is also synonymous with the fact that I leave behind my second year as a blogger and begin the third with a lot more energy and hope. And last but not the least, this post is dedicated to my friend Krishnakumar Subramaniam who has stood by me like a rock.
I woke up at midnight as usual when I heard the sound. It was the sound of splashing water. It seemed to be coming from the swimming pool as if someone was having a midnight swim. I had been hearing it every night for the past week. Every night the sound had been growing in intensity. It was as if someone was wading deeper into the waters each passing day. I had ignored the sound for the first few days.
But for the last four days, I had stepped out and checked the swimming pool. There seemed to be no one there. I had returned to my room and managed to fall asleep after tossing and turning a little bit. I told myself my imagination was probably working overtime. My mind had been in a rather depressed state ever since my wife Mary had died six months back by drowning in our swimming pool.
Tonight, as usual, I got out of my bed and stepped out. I walked over to the swimming pool and sat by the edge. There was nobody in the pool as usual. The splashing sound had stopped. I lit a cigarette. I looked at the calm placid waters of the pool. I remembered the times I had spent with Mary in the swimming pool. It had been my idea to construct the swimming pool as an addition to the huge estate we lived in. Mary had not been really keen on adding a swimming pool to our estate.
I had really loved Mary. She was extremely pretty. She had blue eyes and an upturned nose. Her pretty face was framed with wavy, lustrous blond hair. She had meant everything in the world to me. We had been a very happy couple. I remembered our times together. She would wake up every day at 5.30 in the morning and bang her pillow on my face. She would be half undressed. I would grab her and pull her down. We would make love passionately.
Then she would get out of the bed after half an hour, walk naked to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. She would come back to the bedroom with two omelettes and a plate full of beef and tomato sandwiches. We would finish our breakfast and after an hour we would step out to the pool for a swim. Mary was not a natural at swimming but could find her way around in a swimming pool. I loved to watch Mary in a bikini. She would step out of the pool drenched and dripping and I would immediately grab her from behind, strip her clothes off and we would make love passionately.
Sometimes I would play tricks on her by pulling her legs from below the water as she splashed about. My Mary had meant everything in the world to me. Sometimes we used to go for a midnight swim in the pool. But all that was in the past. After Mary’s death, I had not gone for a swim in the pool. I could not bear to. Our wonderful moments in the pool when we would happily splash about for hours were too vividly etched in my mind. I also felt ridden with guilt for insisting that we build that swimming pool in the first place.
After Mary’s death, I had completely slipped into depression. The days were long and at nights I could not sleep and often I would spend entire nights tossing and turning listlessly. I would sometimes deliriously reach out for Mary in the middle of the night only to find there was no one sleeping next to me.
My close friends were alarmed by my deterioration. I pecked at my food. Every meal was a chore to be gotten over with. I could not concentrate on my work. I became a shadow of my former self. It had been exactly six months since Mary died and I no longer wanted to carry on with life. I felt life without Mary was simply not worth living.
After another ten minutes of staring at the waters of the lake, I finally stood up. I turned to make my way back to my room feeling sick and miserable. Suddenly, I heard the splashing sound again. I turned back to look at the pool. I was startled by what I saw. I looked again and sure enough, I could see Mary’s lovely face smiling at me from the depths of the pool.
She was looking beautiful. As fresh as the young bride I had wed two years ago. There was a beatific smile on her face and her eyes were shining with a bright light. The was a lustrous white halo around her head. I looked at her beautiful face standing rooted to the spot. After a few seconds, Mary opened her mouth and spoke. Her voice came wafting to my ears from the depths of the pool.
She said, ‘My darling, I know you mourn me deeply. I always knew how much you loved me. I felt the same about you. I understand your world revolved around me as did mine around you. We were that rare breed of one in a thousand, made for each other couple who were meant to waltz through life in soulful bliss. I am sorry that I have left you to fend for yourself in this big world. If things had been the other way round and you had left me I would have felt the same.
But you should realize that we all have to go when our time comes. We only have a lease on our lives. We are not permanent. Nothing is permanent. And likewise, nothing that is born ever dies. Things just change from one form to another. Rest assured, I am watching you from a safe place of my own and I am always close to you. My darling, you have to live a lifetime. You should not waste it away in misery living in memories from the past. You have a lot to achieve and a lot to offer the world.
Don’t let grief overcome you. Don’t let life defeat you however daunting it may be. A wasted life is not a life at all. God has put us into this world to overcome challenges. I know you are neither a coward nor weak-willed. Take life like a bull by the horns and fight with it. Find yourself another woman. There is nothing wrong in starting afresh. I really want you to do that. Live happily. I know what I am saying is easier said than done but I have to point you in the right direction.
We have to let our dead past bury itself. Whenever you think of me remember this little piece of advice I am giving you now. I want you to promise me you will abide by my wishes. Now, dip your hand in the waters of this pool and say ‘I promise”.
I hesitated a moment and then moved forward and dipped my hand into the waters of the pool and said, ‘I promise’. Mary’s face slowly faded away from the depths of the waters like a vision. I stood up and made my way to the bedroom determined to keep my promise to my beloved.
Note: This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.