South calls under harassment

The two-year-old black rotary phone rings.
Intense hatred in the cold northern air tries to engulf his body at one go;
that is lying still on rude, slick stairs.
His idle body is supporting the old majestic banister that is freshly painted in red.
The stench of thick blood in the air is buried immediately as the illicit anonymous phone rings again.
His terrified eyes run in chaos over the carpeted floor,
looking for an exit.
His sweaty palms and quavering voice won’t make a difference now.
The south calls are under harassment.
The enmity between the two nations isn’t sparing the two hearts connected by love over hundred miles.
The silence is eating him up.
No floor creaks,
no door is slammed.
It’s just him, his thoughts, his heart and her voice.
Two figures lurk inside the kitchen, one threatens him to kill herself as he proceeds to pick the phone.
The phone rings and his heart dies.

Written in response to Sadjeβ€˜s What Do You See #132 photo prompt. I’ll try to catch with other post soon! Till then, take care. Thank-you πŸ™βœ¨

16 thoughts on “South calls under harassment

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