Summer Meanders: A short stories collection. by Asha D.
Years passed, and Grover grew through his childhood, strangely oblivious that anything was amiss. While he might have on occasions, noticed somebody or other staring at him strangely, looking a little too long, Grover was still completely unaware of his disfigurements. His family had, in fact, raised him in a very cautious manner.
Since the very day of his birth, Grover’s mother had set about establishing rules and unspoken guidelines, emitting an aura of authority linked fiercely to maternal protectiveness. Guests and acquaintances that were not especially dear to heart, nor severely trustworthy, were skipped over being invited around altogether. Only the closest of relatives and one or two intimate friends still came over, and were privy to Grover’s company. The family’s series of family outings to events, parties, festivals, and outdoor activities, converged to almost a vanishing point, and Grover only knew a handful of familiar areas where he repeatedly went out to frolic.
He played sometimes with his small tribe of allowed cousins, frequently with his elder sister, and most of all by himself. All of his playmates had undergone strict screening procedures by his mother, and were never free of her invigilator’s glare. Her number one condition was that Grover would not come to be aware of his oddity, for as long as she could help it. This went to the extent that there was not even a single reflective surface to be found in the house! Unlike regular households, this ordinary looking home had not one mirror in reach. Furthermore, the family had developed the habit of most peculiarly steering clear off shiny surfaces anywhere, as if their reflections may backfire and singe the very skin off of their bones. In effect, Grover had no inkling of the concept of reflections, and had never seen his surroundings or he miraculously replicated on a flat, hard surface. Everything he interacted with was comfortably whole, tangible and 3- dimensional.
That is, until he was the ripe age of nine. The age when a voice inside the mind awakens that doesn’t identify as friend or foe. The age when the self starts becoming a minefield of curiosity, but the world starts to slowly make sense. Grover had blossomed into an amiable, obedient son. However, his curiosity got the better of him one day, when his father was out at work, sister at school, and mother busy in the kitchen. There was a door, almost hidden behind a large potted butterfly palm, in the hallway leading up to the back door. When younger, Grover and his sister had tried going through that door, but it had always been mysteriously locked. When asked about it, their mother had replied with hard stares and a stern voice- just another broom closet, nothing for little kids in there. On this ordinary day however, the allure of that lavender painted door with floral embossed frame was unusually strong for Grover. He gravitated towards the door that until then, had seemed to blend into the wall and be forgotten from consciousness. Thinking that he might as well just try his luck again after all these years, Grover reached out and turned the old door’s brass handle.
There was a soft click, and the door swung open easily on its hinges. Grover froze for a moment, a concoction of surprise and pleasure coursing through his bloodstream. Checking that the cacophony of sizzling oil, clanging and banging of crockery were still emanating from the kitchen, Grover slipped like a little thief through the opened door.
As his probing eyes raked the contents of the little room, Grover realized that his mother might indeed have been telling the truth. The room was barely bigger than a cupboard and filled with household objects and spares that sparked no interest in the child. Thick blankets and extra pillows, boxes filled with unused items such as torchlights, playing cards, stationary and tools, and musty old books lined the peeling walls of the room. Disappointed, Grover was about to turn around and leave, if not for a sharp glint of light that caught his eye. In a back corner and against the sidewall beside an old coat hanger with metal arms like a tree, was another open entrance into what seemed like an extension of the crowded room. This portico however, was frameless and strangely rectangular- so sharp in its angles, that it seemed as if someone had taken a giant pair of scissors and sheared right through the wall like it was art paper.
Grover went up to this doorway and was about to turn into it when alas! a fearsome creature made a sudden appearance on the other side and made Grover jump out of skin! Terrified, he leaped out of sight of the monster and hid to the side of the old coat hanger. Struggling to hear his breathing over the deafening pounding of his heart, Grover willed some calm diffuse into his being. What was that ogre! What was it doing inside their home? And how did that other room exist in their home, which he’d thought he knew as the back of his hand? Grover’s mind swirled with questions and nauseating alarm. Yet, despite his dread, a dangerous courage seeped through Grover’s consciousness, fed by his overriding curiosity. Taking a deep breath, he crouched low and started inching towards the opening again.
Grover crept on all fours until he was right beside the sharp edge of the entrance. Like a turtle, he extended his neck past the edge, and peered into the opening. What he saw completely startled him! Grover gritted his teeth and bravely held his position. All tensed up and wide- eyed, Grover found himself gawking into the very face of the beast. It was truly a face of hideousness. And the creature was staring right back at him! Grover and the ogre seemed to be locked in a critical game of who-blinks-first. Barely in a whisper, Grover asked, “Who are you?”
Astonishingly, the brute’s lips moved at exactly the same time as when Grover spoke, and he seemed to ask the same question! Grover asked again, this time more audibly, “Who are you?” and again, the other creature moved its lips as if it had spoken simultaneously. Sensing a certain confusion and curiosity in the creature’s mottled face, Grover thought to reach out with an act of friendship. He made to extend his palm toward the creature for a handshake, but his fingers knocked into a cold, hard surface, and Grover’s arm jerked back in shock as after contacting something scalding. He glanced around furtively, from his hand to the creature, from the creature to his hand, barely registering that the creature was doing the exact same thing. Trying again, he reached out toward the ugly being, and finally noticed that the other was also doing the same. Again, his fingers met a cool, smooth surface, just a few indistinct inches before it would have met the beast’s fingers. Grover placed his entire palm on what seemed like an invisible wall of melting ice, and smiled at the creature who had done the same. Had he found a friend behind a glass door?
Grover then attempted to find a handle or doorknob or even slight gap between the glass and the surrounding walls so that he may tug upon the surface and squeeze onto the other side. He traced the edge of the glass with his finger and to his pleasure, managed to dig his fingers into a space behind the slim material. Grover pulled on it and peeked into the space he was unraveling. However, what he saw was just a dark portion of the same wall! Utterly bewildered, Grover went back to the front of the glass, and saw his new friend. He then looked past his hands holding the glass, and again was met by solid wall. Grover placed the bizarre slab back in place against the wall, and faced the creature again.
Tentatively, he brushed his fingers down the icy smooth face of this material, marveling at its wondrous character. He moved this way and that, blinked this eye then that. The creature, which he noticed was also dressed in the exact same clothes as Grover, mimicked his every twitch and turn. It was not long before realization crept like a shadow upon his innocent mind.
Stroking over the face of the other being again, unconscious tears suddenly sprung into Grover’s eyes, as he saw himself in all his unsightliness, for the first time in his life.
Since the very day of his birth, Grover’s mother had set about establishing rules and unspoken guidelines, emitting an aura of authority linked fiercely to maternal protectiveness. Guests and acquaintances that were not especially dear to heart, nor severely trustworthy, were skipped over being invited around altogether. Only the closest of relatives and one or two intimate friends still came over, and were privy to Grover’s company. The family’s series of family outings to events, parties, festivals, and outdoor activities, converged to almost a vanishing point, and Grover only knew a handful of familiar areas where he repeatedly went out to frolic.
He played sometimes with his small tribe of allowed cousins, frequently with his elder sister, and most of all by himself. All of his playmates had undergone strict screening procedures by his mother, and were never free of her invigilator’s glare. Her number one condition was that Grover would not come to be aware of his oddity, for as long as she could help it. This went to the extent that there was not even a single reflective surface to be found in the house! Unlike regular households, this ordinary looking home had not one mirror in reach. Furthermore, the family had developed the habit of most peculiarly steering clear off shiny surfaces anywhere, as if their reflections may backfire and singe the very skin off of their bones. In effect, Grover had no inkling of the concept of reflections, and had never seen his surroundings or he miraculously replicated on a flat, hard surface. Everything he interacted with was comfortably whole, tangible and 3- dimensional.
That is, until he was the ripe age of nine. The age when a voice inside the mind awakens that doesn’t identify as friend or foe. The age when the self starts becoming a minefield of curiosity, but the world starts to slowly make sense. Grover had blossomed into an amiable, obedient son. However, his curiosity got the better of him one day, when his father was out at work, sister at school, and mother busy in the kitchen. There was a door, almost hidden behind a large potted butterfly palm, in the hallway leading up to the back door. When younger, Grover and his sister had tried going through that door, but it had always been mysteriously locked. When asked about it, their mother had replied with hard stares and a stern voice- just another broom closet, nothing for little kids in there. On this ordinary day however, the allure of that lavender painted door with floral embossed frame was unusually strong for Grover. He gravitated towards the door that until then, had seemed to blend into the wall and be forgotten from consciousness. Thinking that he might as well just try his luck again after all these years, Grover reached out and turned the old door’s brass handle.
There was a soft click, and the door swung open easily on its hinges. Grover froze for a moment, a concoction of surprise and pleasure coursing through his bloodstream. Checking that the cacophony of sizzling oil, clanging and banging of crockery were still emanating from the kitchen, Grover slipped like a little thief through the opened door.
As his probing eyes raked the contents of the little room, Grover realized that his mother might indeed have been telling the truth. The room was barely bigger than a cupboard and filled with household objects and spares that sparked no interest in the child. Thick blankets and extra pillows, boxes filled with unused items such as torchlights, playing cards, stationary and tools, and musty old books lined the peeling walls of the room. Disappointed, Grover was about to turn around and leave, if not for a sharp glint of light that caught his eye. In a back corner and against the sidewall beside an old coat hanger with metal arms like a tree, was another open entrance into what seemed like an extension of the crowded room. This portico however, was frameless and strangely rectangular- so sharp in its angles, that it seemed as if someone had taken a giant pair of scissors and sheared right through the wall like it was art paper.
Grover went up to this doorway and was about to turn into it when alas! a fearsome creature made a sudden appearance on the other side and made Grover jump out of skin! Terrified, he leaped out of sight of the monster and hid to the side of the old coat hanger. Struggling to hear his breathing over the deafening pounding of his heart, Grover willed some calm diffuse into his being. What was that ogre! What was it doing inside their home? And how did that other room exist in their home, which he’d thought he knew as the back of his hand? Grover’s mind swirled with questions and nauseating alarm. Yet, despite his dread, a dangerous courage seeped through Grover’s consciousness, fed by his overriding curiosity. Taking a deep breath, he crouched low and started inching towards the opening again.
Grover crept on all fours until he was right beside the sharp edge of the entrance. Like a turtle, he extended his neck past the edge, and peered into the opening. What he saw completely startled him! Grover gritted his teeth and bravely held his position. All tensed up and wide- eyed, Grover found himself gawking into the very face of the beast. It was truly a face of hideousness. And the creature was staring right back at him! Grover and the ogre seemed to be locked in a critical game of who-blinks-first. Barely in a whisper, Grover asked, “Who are you?”
Astonishingly, the brute’s lips moved at exactly the same time as when Grover spoke, and he seemed to ask the same question! Grover asked again, this time more audibly, “Who are you?” and again, the other creature moved its lips as if it had spoken simultaneously. Sensing a certain confusion and curiosity in the creature’s mottled face, Grover thought to reach out with an act of friendship. He made to extend his palm toward the creature for a handshake, but his fingers knocked into a cold, hard surface, and Grover’s arm jerked back in shock as after contacting something scalding. He glanced around furtively, from his hand to the creature, from the creature to his hand, barely registering that the creature was doing the exact same thing. Trying again, he reached out toward the ugly being, and finally noticed that the other was also doing the same. Again, his fingers met a cool, smooth surface, just a few indistinct inches before it would have met the beast’s fingers. Grover placed his entire palm on what seemed like an invisible wall of melting ice, and smiled at the creature who had done the same. Had he found a friend behind a glass door?
Grover then attempted to find a handle or doorknob or even slight gap between the glass and the surrounding walls so that he may tug upon the surface and squeeze onto the other side. He traced the edge of the glass with his finger and to his pleasure, managed to dig his fingers into a space behind the slim material. Grover pulled on it and peeked into the space he was unraveling. However, what he saw was just a dark portion of the same wall! Utterly bewildered, Grover went back to the front of the glass, and saw his new friend. He then looked past his hands holding the glass, and again was met by solid wall. Grover placed the bizarre slab back in place against the wall, and faced the creature again.
Tentatively, he brushed his fingers down the icy smooth face of this material, marveling at its wondrous character. He moved this way and that, blinked this eye then that. The creature, which he noticed was also dressed in the exact same clothes as Grover, mimicked his every twitch and turn. It was not long before realization crept like a shadow upon his innocent mind.
Stroking over the face of the other being again, unconscious tears suddenly sprung into Grover’s eyes, as he saw himself in all his unsightliness, for the first time in his life.