The Halo of the Night
Category A: First Place (2024) Monash Short Story Writing Competition
Author: Sanchitha Meenakshisundaram
The choking smell of medicine and antiseptics lingers in the sharp, iciness of the room. The room is tight, harbouring only a bed and a pair of chairs. A pair of shrivelled hands lie on the white sheets. Positioned beneath the covers is an old man, seemingly limp and numb. His unspoken pain is apparent. His reminiscence entangles him in a suffocating grasp, pulling him into the dark abyss of memories.
His first memory has a sense of comforting warmth, almost inviting. Almost. The night sky contrasts a boy’s silhouette. With silky chestnut hair and dewy golden skin, he resembled nothing of the old man’s wrinkled skin. But they share the same pair of periwinkle blue eyes with touches of gold that waltzed with the moon’s glow. A girl. Her stance radiates a sense of maturity, her eyes shimmering like stars, forming a golden halo against her hair. She catches one of his small, wistful glances and her lips part to a sharp grin.
That was all it took.
Rays of sunlight caught her hazel eyes as her elegant figure floated across to him, handsome in his suit, eyes glassy with joy, shocked at how much more beautiful she was from when he first met her. A bouquet of brightly assorted flowers were grasped tightly between her fingers. In ripples that trickled down her back, her velvet hair shimmered against the ivory gown she wore. As she reached him, the crowd fell silent. Breaths were held as the beautiful words of the ceremony were spoken;
‘I do.’
Flashes of white streak his view as shouts of terror whistle through the air. Many collapse with wounds but still, they run through the pain. Many leave the burden of their screaming children behind. The man and woman, older now, are sprinting, their frail nightgowns tangling between their legs. The man’s hair is in uncombed clumps and the woman's face is engraved with youth but her eyes are wide with fear. Piercing gunshots rip through the air. They run. In the distance, they spy the ship, their sole chance of escape.
Bang!
Suddenly, her hand is limp. Crimson drips from her temple. The ship so close yet unreachable, sails away into the hazy grey horizon along with their hope, joy, and their lives.
Beep.
The sharp smell of antiseptics once again fills the room, jerking the old man from his reminiscence. Agony pierces his heart as he takes his last breath, rattling against his brittle bones.
The old man’s eyes snap open, welcomed by the cold embrace of an empty space. There he stood, no pulse in his chest. Stuck in an empty place, comforted with the sole thought of reunion. He looks around, searching for the flicker of her velvet hair. But no semblance of it appeared. He stood, waiting, convinced of her arrival, that his pain of decades would fade. But only time passes. And he continues to wait for something that would never appear, his heart breaking with every second.