The boy and his creation

Authored by: Abhishek Agarwal

Synopsis
The Boy and his creation is a novella of a guy, who is amply rich, full of creativity and bored with his life. He practically owns a newspaper and daily writes a small excerpt in it called "Johny Johnson". To satisfy his romance, he creates a "perfect soulmate" for his comic series that totally spins his life around. Read the regular updates to get informed about this story.

Prologue
Johny Johnson: #236 March 19^th, 2013.

"Hey guys. Hope you are doing on well in your life. This is Johny. Really, there isn't much to speak about today. Although as rarely as the blue moon do I go to the college, I did so today. I woke up at around seven in the morning. I went straight to the bathroom. I did my clean up and brushed my teeth. I got ready, and today I used the perfume that Mark bought me. It is really up my nerves dude that scent. It smells like shit has been put on roses and left overnight, but whatever smell it may be, Mark says that girls go bananas when they sniff the tiniest amount of it.

I went to the college and the professors there just know nothing about what they teach man. I mean if they say that two plus two is four, then it means that four plus four is two. I am waiting for the one fine day when I will finally lose my mind and go for them. I will challenge their knowledge (which I doubt exists) and will say if they lose then they will have to call me "Master" for the rest of their lives.

After being kicked out of the class a couple of times in the entire day, the college ended for the day and I started walking home. I came back all worked up and tired and lay myself comfortably on the couch. That's when Mark came over. He is the absolute brute by body, giant I rather say. But by brains, he is as stinky as horse shit. No wonder flies hover around him. But I do not allow those characterless girls in my home. In my house, I keep my stuff in order.

We sat together for around two seconds figuring out what to do when sure enough, Mark starts his compilation of the day.
"And you know man that Kate girl is all over you. Dude you are so lucky when girls like that do that. Johny I would rather suggest you to get a tie. Tie looks cool as ice man. Hell cooler on you I mean..."

I sometimes question myself. Why the hell did I put up with him? I just don't believe him. Why the hell did I use that perfume on Mark's advice? I just do not have an answer."


Chapter 1

My father was a small man. He had next to nothing of his own. Though whatever he had he poured upon me. I was his sole child. Whatever I have today, although due to my own struggle, I owe to him. Today, I live in this small apartment, have a respected life and a job in The Logical and live happily. I started small and I have most of the things that I ever needed.

But something is missing. Something will always be missing. I am the secretary editor in chief of The Logical and work for Philip. I share my office with him. He is the kind of guy that gets bored easily. He is rich but he does not show it off. He is simple in living in his own small apartment. He wants everything in the world to be of a er... non-turbulent nature. I like him. He is always nice to me, always helps me. Though for his work, he usually leaves it to me. I do my best there.

I was walking to my office as I do everyday. The huge building of The Logical could be seen from miles away but you never knew how close you are until you look at the other buildings. At this point, Philip drove from behind me and stopped. He said, "Mind if I drop you Jane?"
"Of course not, it is very kind of you." I nimbly slipped into his vehicle and he accelerated. "Philip, you do not seem to drive through here for your office everyday. What is so special today?"

"Oh, that. Well really I was out of gas and I decided it would be a good idea to get it refilled early in the morning, you know." After this, silence thrust itself painfully through the occupants of the car. He did not seem to feel it, however agony shown itself amply on my face. His slow driving seemed to stretch the agony into space.

I looked around the car. I had seen his car before. It was cosy, comfortable and small. No one could have guessed by it's size, that wealth that it's owner possessed, although it was relished with expensive artefacts and souvenirs. We reached the office within five minutes, although the distance was a little more than a mile. Today I could get over with all my pending work with the newly gained half-an-hour. It would have taken me three quarters to get here.

At once I set to work, cleaned up my desk and neatly docketed the documents for the day. All this while Philip just sat and looked approvingly at me. I did not cast my eye upon him, but I knew. I said, "What's up Philip? Have you not any work to do?" To this he replied, "Why are you so efficient? I feel as if I can leave all my work up to you and you can take care of it all."

"Well, I can but I won't. You have to do some work, Philip. You cannot just sit and watch people. You are the editor in chief. You have all the work. My job is to help you." That seemed to satisfy him. "Well looks like I have to work now." At this point the news writer, Mark came in. "Hey Phil, I need to talk to ya."

"What is it Mark now?" asked Philip. But Mark insisted and went out of the sound proof door. It had one-way glass, the person inside could see the outside but people from the outside could not see inside. I could see them talking an could make out what they were talking about. Mark was saying that he was frustrated about The Johny Johnson. He said that Philip made him look so stupid. Philip defended himself. When the topic changed, Mark mentioned me. He said that I am over Philip. Philip just said that he was behaving like the Mark in The Johny Johnson. But Mark insisted. After that Philip turned and it became difficult to catch his words. He said something about a deer and something about a stupid priest.

When Philip came back in, I asked him about what Mark was saying. Interestingly, I noticed that Philip said nothing about The Mark in Johny Johnson. He said, "Mark was just saying that we have known each other for so long and this and that. He said that you cared about me."

"And what did you say?", I asked. He said, "I just said that you would never think about it and that you caring about me does not mean that you like me and anyways I'm more than sure that you have a life of your own. I'm sure you would not want to marry me! That is so stupid!"

If someone could understand me, he would have known that I was lying when I said "Of course. It would be very stupid."

 Chapter 2

That day morning, I was walking to office again. I was walking on the turf. There was no one around. The early morning light shone from above the buildings on the other side of the road. The sun was up but not yet visible. I was thinking hard. I was thinking about Philip. Phil, as I began to call him lately. He just spends his entire day lurking around. All he does is command quality and receive consumer comments. He usually sits at his desk, playing around in the computer. I do most of the work for him.

He writes his Johny Johnson thing himself though. He likes to write it himself. He often complains of being bored. At that point we usually share something that interests us both. Some comical incident or something... But it usually ends up being, well, uncomfortable. I control myself, while Phil, he suspects nothing and it does not seem strange to him. He, is so mild on it, but no one can say what pleasure it is to control myself right before the point of intimacy. It pains, yes, but the pleasure is so warm, so heavy, that it is worth it. I often regret it, but as they say, what can not be done, can not be.

At this point I reached the office. The door was open. I passed in and closed it behind me. I went up to my office. Phil was there already, as he usually is. He greeted me. But he did not get up. I found that odd. But it skipped my brain. I thought he might be in the middle of another of his "Johny troubles". I placed my backpack on the desk.

I asked, "So what's up today?'
But Phil did not reply.
I repeated rather loudly. Phil looked up and he nodded. "Nothing. Just had a idea. Was working it up."
"You are working up an idea?!" I said and laughed one of my most natural laughs. But Phil just made a sound. "Hmm...", he said. I thought he was really busy so he could not understand the pun.

We just worked on for around an hour or so. This was extremely odd. I knew something was not right. Just then my cellphone rang. It was the landlord of my apartment. "Madam, I can not take this any longer. You can not just pay me the old worth. My apartment is now almost a hundred dollars. You cannot just pay me three quarters! This can not be taken!"
"Listen to me, Sir! I do not have just enough money right now. If you let me use the apartment for a month more, I promise I will pay you all my debt."
"This is what you have always told me! With all due respect madam, I no longer permit you to use my property. Please do not return. Your baggage will be waiting for you at the main gate. Thank you."

I tried to protest but in vain. he had cut the line. Damn it! Now I am homeless. It sounds extremely weird. Now I will have to arrange something.

"Phil?", I said.
"Yes?", he inquired without looking up.
"My landlord has - err - turned me out. Err - may I ask you to", I hesitated. "May I live with you for a coupe of days? If it is okay?"
"Sure", was the sole reply.

Later that day, after I collected all my baggage, I went straight to Phil's. I rang the bell. He almost immediately opened the door.
"Welcome! I was looking forward to you. I don't think we have been over to each other’s' until now, have we?"
"No", I said. "We haven't. By the way, you were really busy today. I asked you but you did not reply. What is up?"
"Well nothing really. I wanted to introduce a female character for Johny. "
"Oh" I said. "What's she like?"
Phil seemed to have caught the enthusiasm in my question. "Well she is really like someone any boy could hope for. I call her Barbara. Barbara Kyle."
"That's a good name", I remarked.
"It is", everything about her is great. She is like the innocent girls that - err - you know are like magic and stuff. They say it is like a dream. It has to be dream for every reader. She is extremely patient, well-behaved, tall, good character, better spoken, best complexion. You know, she is like that. Her movement would be light, her hand, swings about magically instead of just moving. She has the air of you know, manner about her. Well it is really hard to explain, but as I say, she is the magical creature. Err - like a fairy in the sky, with her small, slow, light movements that seem dreamy but are as real as herself."
"Well, what is her behaviour? I mean habits and stuff?"
"Well she is the righteous, understanding little girl, much forgiving, much talking, she styles her hair, but prefers them open, she has the simple touch on her face, she would have a huge make-up table and stuff and set and all that, but she tries to stay away from it. You know, the light lip-gloss, and golden locks etc."
"Oh", I said. This girl, Barbara, struck me as a girl that plays a part in a long and faithful romantic story, but who tragically dies at the end.

Johny Johnson: #239 March 22^nd, 2013.

"Hello guys, this is Johny Johnson from somewhere, someday, at sometime. It feels as if I have fallen out of this world today. I was up early tonight, and I decided that I have nothing to do at home so I just prepared for college. 

I met up with my friends in the classroom and we were just cracking some poor jokes when she entered the room. This girl I dare say had got me pretty bad. I was looking at her, all the time before our teacher came. She did not seem to take much notice of me, nor of any other boys. Under such circumstances, every one tries to be the stronger, so she did not get a seat in the classroom. That's when I said that a fresher should not be treated like this. And I offered her my seat. She came and sat at my seat. I just stood. Well when the teacher came he asked me if I had shit my pants or something as I was not seated. Mark offered me some space then. 

All through the class, I was just staring at her and when she looked towards me, I would pretend I was not watching her. What a glorious creature! Her motions, delicate, delightful. They seemed to linger in the air and make its presence felt.

After the class, well really I had no intention to welcome her in conversation, but I did. "Hey, You didn't thank me!", I called out as she came along. She just smiled and thanked me. "What is your name?" she said. Man I could have sunk through the floor. "Johnson's baby!" someone called from behind. I blushed and she laughed. The best laugh I had ever seen. She said, "Hey, err- Johnson, I am Barbara Kyle." Her hand levitated through the air and requested a handshake. Well, I could have shaken her off but I did not. One of my friends had to actually put my hands into hers. Damn! I will beat the shit out of that guy."

Chapter 3

It was a Thursday. While I was requested to sleep in Phil’s bedroom, I modestly chose to sleep in the living room. Phil’s huge couch had all the features I needed for satisfactory sleep. Out of courtesy I refrain myself from entering his room, as it might be considered an attempt on his privacy any day. Also I avoid getting too close and cosy, as the society always questions live-ins.

But I and Phil have never cared for the society really. The only thing that I fear is that Phil will someday realise my feelings for him and then our relations will change. It will get complex. That is something I would never like to have. I controlled myself and addressed the matter at hand.

What was this girl Barbara to Johny? I have been asking myself this question since Phil told me about her. I mean how would Johny see this girl? How would he react to her? How would they react to each other? I must find an answer. This is almost weird to see that I have a quest! I stood up and went into the bathroom that was outside the bedroom, attached to the sitting room. I straightened my hair. They felt too long. I must have them trimmed. I washed my face and freshened up. I went out to see that Phil was already at the kitchen section, doing something.

I went to him and I said, “Hey, I can make myself some breakfast. You don’t need to do it.” To this he said, “No it’s okay. I always make myself some. I can make some more. That’s fine.” I merrily thanked him. When we sat at the dining table, munching at our toast and sipping our coffee, there was this long and painful silence. I thought it was more out of feeling awkward that common courtesy. But Phil did not seem to notice the awkward aura in the air.

“So I was just thinking,” asked Phil. “You know, to ask you something. Would you mind?”

“No, of course not. Go right ahead.”

“I wanted to ask you to suggest me something. You have read the latest Johny Johnson comic, haven’t you?” He waited for my affirmation and continued. “Well, I am kind of stuck in my own way. I mean what should I have them do next? Should they talk or something? I cannot understand what the next thing should be. You have something that can help me, haven’t you? You always do.”

I was a little amused as Phil called those scripts as “comics”. I had never thought of them in that way. But indeed, it is true. I have something that I can help him with. I have my own reflections on what the next thing should be. So I just said.

“I think they should talk to get to know each other better. A small talk nothing less, nothing more and then they should end up at an outing. A dinner or something better. That I think should be full of revelations from their lives that are revealing of the deepest truths.”

“You speak like some expert or something. Those were extremely difficult words.”

I could not tell him that I had worded it out long ago. Yet he thanked me and we cleaned up together. We got ready, he in his own room and I in the bathroom next door to the sitting room, and we set off together in his car. When we reached the office, I could not help myself when I noticed the Johny Johnson flash drive laid unprotected on his desk. No one was watching. With a clean move of my hand, I slipped it into the pocket of my overcoat.

Later that day, Phil was doing his work and I was trying to do mine. We worked on either side of the same desk, so we could not see what the other was doing until we walked over. It is way too tempting to read about some girl that you know you want to imitate, especially when all the data is right in your pocket.

So I merrily gave in to my temptation and plugged in the drive. I scanned through almost all of it until at length I reached the file that said “Barbara”. I began to read through it. It had all of it, from the character sketch, to looks, to behaviour, likes, and dislikes, everything. Hmm. She is tall. Heels would have to do for now. Phil seems to have done a silly charade on her lip gloss. He has elaborated way too much. He says that she wears a slightly pink, shiny kind of lip gloss. Well, he does not know that all lip glosses are shiny. After all he is a boy, he has never used one. She appears to have some natural looks and has to spend little time on the make-up table. Well, looks like I’ll have to spend a lot.

Johny Johnson: #240 March 23^rd, 2013

Well guys, this is Johny from the second world. I have been pretty much been on top of my spirits lately. I have got to say, it’s nice to like someone. It is a very good feeling. It – well, keeps you going, after the something. It pumps happiness and life into you. That I can say. I had thought that pain was a part of romance, which you have to bear if you have to acquire your mate. But since I have known Barbara, it seems a farfetched myth.

She and I, well I mean we are probably made for each other. I don’t have to listen to the boring professors anymore, I can simply spend my class looking at her face. We don’t sit together in the class though. She says that it would distract her from study. I just do not get that, for I have moved from the second place in the class to first since I have started watching her throughout the lecture.

She and I were talking today in the lunch. We sat isolated from the hell of the crowds. But despite her looks, I have learned that no one gives a shit about her. One part of me does not like that. I did ask her about it. She said, “I do not care for them either. I care only for the ones that care for me.” And I asked if that included me. She simply said that if I care then she does. So we take that as affirmative and move on.

“So, you have to clean up your house yourself? That sucks doesn’t it?”

“No, not really, my uncle calls it a condition for letting me in the house.”

“Well if your uncle turns you out, Barbara, you can just head over to my home. You are warmly welcome there.”

To that she simply smiled and turned away. We had to return as the lunch had elapsed. We arranged for a meeting that evening. And as I have been born impatient, I was ready before even the supper had begun. I had nothing that afternoon and I headed straight for her home, fro I knew she would not have reached the place this early. At her home, her uncle (who was much less of a piece of shit than I had pictured him) told me that she had gone already. Jesus! She was already out, man! So I just steered my car to the restaurant. I pushed open the doors and there she was, waiting for me! Well actually it turns out that she had been there for some time. So the meeting began an hour earlier than arranged.

We greeted and ordered some coffee. She began the talk.

“So, your parents just give all that money without thinking, Johny?”

“Well really, I already have a business of my own, so my parents don’t give a shit. They just want a Bachelor’s on my name. They fund me from far away you see.”

“So you are alone at your house?”

I wanted to ask just exactly what that question meant. Was it straight or was it not? I can never know. But I decided to act as if unable to understand the far meaning.

“Well me and my servant really. Always. Of course it’s different for summer, then my parents are over from foreign, you see.”

“Well, at my home, there is my uncle, my aunt and his son. We rarely meet though. And we will not as I will usually be out at this time.”

A little sense of suspicion reverberated through me. She used the future tense. She will usually be out. What did that mean? The feeling made itself feel on my face. She sensed it and issued correction.

“Well, I mean, I will be out, won’t I Johny?”

“You do not like being at home, do you?”

“I am liking it here, out of my home, if that’s what you meant.”

Oh My God! She is so innocent and yet reciprocates better than me! Well alright guys. I have found myself work to do! I have to conquer this adventure. It will stand a monument to my success! See you later.

Chapter 4

It may be called very strange if I said that I have not yet seen Phil’s bedroom. It is a very strong temptation and I am holding it down until I have a very natural cause to do so. It is not as if I am not seeking it. I mean I am looking for something, but I am not scanning thoroughly. I often imagine what it would be like, his room’s interior. It probably had sky blue curtains and a mild green carpet. I suddenly realised that I am standing before the mirror, with my make-up kit in my hand. 

That was infinitely weird. So I have just started using Barbara’s techniques and looks. I see that if Phil likes Barbara, he will like me as well. Even better as I am real. Alright, let me complete my check list. The right shade of lip gloss, the cut short golden locks, subtle touch of foundation, the appropriate heels and a slim fit dress. So I am done. I closed my make-up kit and move out of the washroom.

Phil sat there waiting. He had this notepad of his and was nimble making some notes in it.

“What are you writing down, Phil?” I asked as I pack my things and pick up my usual backpack.

He just mumbled some words and stood up to go. All the way to the office, my heart was thumping. I was expecting some comment, some compliment, or maybe some question on my looks. But Phil said nothing. He didn’t even look my way. He was, frowning, at something though. He seemed preoccupied with something troublesome. So I decided to break the ice.

“What is troubling you Phil?” I asked.

“Huh? Oh, nothing really. I was just wondering if Barbara should start the conversation this time or not. I mean I am trying to mould her character from the last time.”

Seriously? You are still thinking about that? Well, looks like I have to do something now, or wait, maybe I don’t. The staff of the office will do it for me. I was a little frustrated with Phil’s indifference and so I did not reply.

As soon as we entered the office, I knew that everything went just as I had pictured it to be, except for Phil, of course. Everyone was just staring my way and urging conversation. I began to like this kind of attention when Mark suddenly said something that didn’t quite blend with the crowd.

“So you and Phil have something up, haven’t you” he said.

“Not really. I was just trying to - err - change my old fashioned ways.”

“Alright then lady. You may say whatever you want to, but I know it.” At this point Phil passed into our cabinet and thus, beyond the range of our words. Then Mark said with somewhat lowered voice: “He isn’t looking at you? I know it. You want his attention and you are not getting that. I have felt that too. He is acting strange these days.” 

However fool I must have thought Mark was, he was certainly witty in these kinds of things. I basically denied it and went on my way to my office. I sat there reading through Barbara’s stuff. I was naturally surprised by the fact that the loss of the Johny Johnson flash drive had not been noticed.

Later that day, we had returned home and Phil had still not said a word about my dress or my style. It was starting to get on my nerves. I was breaking down. At one point I thought that Phil was in his room and I wanted to shout at him so badly, that I had to drink water to keep myself silent. But I said nothing. Day after day, he would ignore me and the staff, would go mad after me. I probably think there are a couple of admirers there. But Phil, he just said nothing. We even talked rarely. We shared our office, our transport, our domestic problems and even our homes!

But that day I had lost it completely. I was just mad at Phil. Has he decided to turn me out of his home? If so then I will tell him point blank range that I am over him and will never leave his home. Alright, so I start walking over to Phil’s bedroom. I open the door to the mysterious, much speculated about and unknown interior of his room.

What the hell? That boy had all of his stuff covered with Barbara merchandise. No blue curtains and fancy carpets. It was all pink in Barbara’s pictures! His curtains, the carpet, the bedcover, the pillows, the pencils and even the walls were covered with Barbara’s posters. One part of me wanted to make fun of it. It said that no wonder such a lot of Johny Johnson merchandise was sold out.

But I knew that it was not funny. I knew that something was seriously wrong. He must have fallen for his own creation! I gathered from the state of his room that he was not at home. I must have passed out some time before. Something must be done to bring him back o his senses. I was almost panic-struck. My hand was trembling and as I procured my mobile from my backpack in the hall, it fell out of my hands a couple of times. I looked through my contacts. There it was. Mark.

Johny Johnson: #246 March 29th, 2013

Hey guys this is Johny from my home. Barbara is coming over some time from now. I am extremely excited to welcome her. I was thinking of deposing my servant for today, but on second thought I could see him cleaning up behind us. So I gave him instructions for keeping everything neat and doing everything properly. I told him that the food does not have to taste very fine, but if it is anything near base shit, then he is done for life. So hopefully nothing will go wrong.

When the doorbell rang I answered it. There she was. I could feel her presence in the atmosphere. I held out a hand to help her climb the porch. She gracefully accepted it and we entered the house together. I introduced her to my servant and we sat at the dinner table and had soup. She started the talk this time again. But it was far from anything we had in mind.

“Don’t you have any problem with allergies in this season, Johny?”

“Hardly. Basically I used to stay indoors. But I think I would have to give it a thought.”

When she is close to me, it feels as if I have the sole pleasure in this world. She gives me, happiness. I am pretty sure I would not have been half as happy and lively if she had not been around. She seems to use the only lip gloss that she wore on her first day of the college. I asked her about it, she said that since I liked it, she would wear only the single thing.

We had soup together and then we had the dinner. There was beacon, wine, salad, macaroons, rice and what not. I have to say I was pretty pleased with the cooking which by the way I had not had in many months. Although it kind of struck me that he had actually made two dinners. Barbara said that she would hate it but she liked it, about having two dinners together.

Soon, we were finished and we went to the living room, where I had prepared for some video games. But unfortunately she did not quite like the idea. So instead we just sat and talked. She said that I have to stop saying that she looked gorgeous again and again. She said that it would make her immune to compliments or something. I said if you like something, you have to be frank with it, if you know what I mean. To that she said that she was frank when she said that video games were just not her thing.

At last she had to leave as she said that her uncle would not allow her in too late at night. Well I actually offered her to stay at my house for the night, but she was too stubborn on it. She said something about being immoral, but I don’t quite remember it. So it’s a bye from me. Hope you guys are doing well in your lives too.

Chapter 5

When I had completed my rendezvous with Mark, we decided to meet immediately for dinner. We decided it would be the best to give the matter a thought and then take necessary action. The meeting was arranged in the dead of the night at a well-known restaurant.

I set out into the fog outside and made sure I had the necessary equipment in my backpack. For my part, I should have guessed it long ago that something was wrong, judging by the recent behaviour changes that Phil has gone through.

The way I saw the problem was that Phil was long and severely bored by his life. To deal with that problem, he basically introduced a twist in his so-called comic that would engross most of his time.  However, he practically went off the limit and then he got so engrossed in it that it absorbed his life. I think he has taken a fancy to Barbara as his obsession was, was self-governing by the time he could have done anything about it.

I reached the restaurant. They had named it ‘The Princess’’. The place was huge, and well served. Mark turned up a couple of minutes later. I plunged into the grave matter without greeting.

“Phil is obsessed with Barbara. And I think that his obsession is not normal.”

“It is very distressing. I half think he is crazy or something.”

“Phil is not crazy! He is just, tangled, I guess.”

“I noticed that you have not been spending lot of time on your makeup.”

To that remark, I blushed. This matter was indeed very distressing, and it seemed distressing still, when the thought of my makeup just led me to think of my diseased Phil again.

“Well, it really was not necessary in such circumstances…”

Sensing a feel of self-guilt, Mark assured me. “It was very natural of you. Be assured Jane, Barbara’s delightfulness will not capture Phil from reality into fancies.”

“Yes. I fear he would lose his sense of reality. He would probably believe in Barbara’s existence to the extent of craving her.”

He must be pulled out of this shit” Mark remarked most usefully. “But what do we do?”

“I don’t understand. We must make him understand somehow the difference between dreams and reality.” I had most prudently made my suggestion but the task seemed to be Herculean. It was impossible for someone lost in dreams to realise their unreality. I mean how could they? No, they cannot believe what is true. The Delusion, it deceives, but it deceives to the extent of erasing the line between true and untrue? I did not know.

We decided to take Phil head on and explain him the situation. Next morning, we were there in our office. Mark was inside too.

“Phil!” he said. “Phil! Listen to me. Listen to me! This comic is a part of your life! You cannot live if you confuse it with your life!”

Mark was too violent on him. I mean if you saw how worthless a creature sat before us, his attitude, his indifference, his not being able to meet an eye with Mark, you could not help but pity. So broke in.

“Look at me Phil!” I said with the most soothing and calm voice that I could make. “Barbara is not real. She does not exist! She cannot make you feel. You cannot feel for something that does not exist.” I was about to cry out, my trembling voice bore enough evidence to that. I subsided and Mark took the lead.

“Do you understand us Phil?”

 Phil’s indifference was what annoyed him. It seemed he did not really care for what we said. Mark gave up all hope. He stood up from his chair and went out. He paused in the doorway and he told me, “You are all that can do this.”

Those last words hurt me like hell. It made me feel beyond any emotion that I was losing Phil. I felt that he was going to somewhere that has no return. It felt like traps of delusions had held him and we could do nothing about him. He was still working on Barbara’s character, even as I sat in the corner of his office, about to break apart. But I could not leave him. I had to try. So I did. My final attempt.

I stood up and walked over to him, as sad as I was. I held his face in my arms and I turned it towards me. He looked surprised and was about to speak something when tears fell from my eyes and upon his. He seemed even more surprised than before. Then I could not hold it. I basically shouted “I LOVE YOU AND I NOT WANT TO LOOSE YOU!” and I kissed him. I was crying so much that I was trembling all over. And for the same reason, the first ever kiss we shared was, err – not very romantic. It was more solemn.

Johny Johnson: #247 March 30, 2013

Today is a very strange day of my life. I, I was three days earlier at the door-step of Barbara in the morning. We had earlier agreed for a morning walk. So according to y promise, I was there. Barbara came out and greeted me. We naturally began walking.

She seemed pretty distracted today. I did not take much notice of the fact and I began the usual talk.

“You look gorgeous today. But you do not seem to be here. What’s the matter?”

“I hate to tell this to you, Johny, but I err- I have to go.”

“But where? Why? Tell me. Share with me. I am listening.”

“I need to go to Paris. And I, I may not return.”

“What do you mean Barbara?”

“I am sick Johny, terribly sick. I am, I, I have cancer.”

The words fell like rocks on my head. Did my ears hear it correctly? Was she – she to die? I was dumbfounded. I had stopped walking. Barbara went on, however.

“The Doctor says that Paris is the best chance I have to live.”

Three days later, today, later I had a letter. It ran a follows:

“I asked Uncle to post this if I die. I wanted to tell you Johny, one last thing, if you had ever asked me for the something, then my answer would have been yes. Don’t let me die. Let me live within you. Don’t die Johny, for me.”

I read through the note as tears rolled out of my eyes. I could not believe my eyes. Barbara was no more. This could not be. I cried my life out that day, locked up in my room. I was broken through and through. Yet it seemed a dream. A dream, that had to be ended. A dream that had given me my life, yet the life was not true, it was unreal. I picked up my pen and wrote a request for apology on the note. I went to the kitchen, picked up a knife and blended into the eternal light that Barbara comprised. I could not live without her being alive.

<The Johny Johnson series has met a gracious ending. We are sorry to announce that the series shall no more be released.>

Chapter 6

I had left Phil’s house and let myself in at a small hotel using the money that useful Mark gave me. I thought Phil would perhaps realise his problem if I left his house in loneliness. I had not yet set my baggage yet. I was so very depressed; I could not muster enough force to pick myself up from the couch. I was probably crying three hours straight. I felt a huge anguish and I wanted to see Phil once more. I wanted his comfortable seat, his warm and his reckless talks. I remembered his lost indifference. I remembered his feelings of boredom, like what he used to be, just there in our office,

staring at my useful efficiency.

I was lost in my thought. And suddenly I realised that all had been lost. Another wave of sob wept through me. I was lost again in my handkerchief. It was extremely sad for me. I probably had nothing in this world now. Or wait, maybe I did. Slight warmth of hope tried its best to overcome the cold that had reverberated through me.

I went straight to the door and hurried along the path. I called for a cab in the dead of the night and after a struggle of some time someone pulled over. I asked for Phil’s address. He rode and stopped over at Phil’s apartments. I run up the staircase that led to Phil’s room. I finally reached it. There it was his room.  I hope he had realised what he had done and pulled himself through it. I hoped, and yet some little corner of me said that he could have done so. Never mind, I wanted his proximity, I didn’t care for his indifference. I only wanted to hug him and say sorry for what I had done earlier this day.

Another tear tried to force its way through my lids. I controlled it most patiently. I knocked at his door and without waiting for a reply, pushed it open. I called out his name.

“Phil?” I called repeatedly. But no reply came. I pushed open the bedroom door, in hope that he was probably fast asleep. But what I saw only severed me to death.

Philip lay there, dead. He had slit his throat with a knife. And there on the largest Barbara poster on his wall, he had written “I am sorry” in his blood.

THE END