Floor Collapsing, Floating, Bouncing Back

By - Shamaim Noor.

Preamble

In this short story, the prominent theme I aimed to convey was a critique of societal hustle culture, narrow ideals of success and perfectionist ideals, and their detrimental impacts including burnout. The story emphasises the toxicity of this societal cultural behaviour through challenging societal norms surrounding success and deconstructing the harmful impact that lies beneath these behaviours ingrained in society. The story leans into the genre of Japanese magical realism with a focus on discussing the human experience. It follows a young woman who upholds a coveted live but internally drowning under the shackles of this image, who is then granted ‘peace’ through a magical dove. It carries heavy intertextual references to mythology, namely the tale of Icarus. Moreover, there are subtle biblical references made throughout to link with the biblical associations of the dove. Further, it contains aesthetic features such as lush imagery, narrative perspective, metaphors and recurring motif of the dove. Overall, the story criticises the conformity upheld by the constricted societal expectations of what constitutes as a respectable and fruitful life.

Floor Collapsing, Floating, Bouncing Back1

The key scrapes against the lock. I gather my bags and trudge up the carpeted stairs. A resounding thump echoes as I toss my things onto the crisp comforter. I peel away the layers of scrubs and death. I step into the shower, water dousing me like scorching hellfire. I do not know how long I stay there, rivulets of water tracing the curves of my weary body. I grab pyjamas and take the steps two at a time. A groan echoes in the sparse kitchen as I open the fridge, the faint, yellowed light medlied with the fluorescent glare of the overhead bulbs. I gather an assortment of glass containers, laden with meal prepped morsels. A droning silence settles, bar the occasional sizzle of oil. The aching in my bones will not cease - a relentless righteous cacophony preaching for my attention. I ignore it, gazing listlessly at the light winking off the glistening wine, as if it is my salvation.

Amidst my pounding thoughts, I hear a thump. Inquisitive, my glance flits to the source. A small smear blemishes the pristine surface on my bay window. Underneath, on the bed of snowy lilies, a blinking dove lays. Marring its flawless form, a sickening crack bends its wing. I rush to open the window and scoop its slight body into the cradle of my palms. I nab a cushion from the couch and place it on the tabletop. The dove lays atop the velvet throne. 

‘Just, um, hang on one moment,’ I murmur placatingly. 

I reach into my cabinet, feeling for the first aid kit. As I unclip the box’s latches, a gentle chirp sounds. The dove lifts its head, and I follow its eyes to its mangled wing. Small, bright particles of golden light begin to mark the wing. As more spots of light appear, they seem to form pearly strands. They wrap around the torn wing, twisting in intricate patterns. A woven tapestry of light blankets the wing. My eyes blink and it is gone. In its wake, a wing resurrected. I feel my brows furrow and my jaw works back and forth. The dove’s mouth curves.

‘Not to fret, it is repaired,’ the dove assures.

‘No that’s not... I mean, I’m glad but…how exactly…and you just-,’ I begin.

A small blink from the dove cuts me off. I smile unsurely but drop it. As I collect my bearings, reality sets in.

‘Oh goodness, I am so sorry. I seem to have forgotten my manners – can I offer you any food?’ I inquire.

‘No, I shan’t impose,’ the dove responds. 

‘Nonsense, it isn’t a bother,’ I confirm, already placing the first aid kit back and rolling up my sleeves.

As I begin my dance in the kitchen – searing the lamb, whipping the butter, filtering the Bordeaux – the dove’s gaze settles hotly on my back. 

‘You are an intolerable good Samaritan, pretending I haven’t disrupted your evening,’ it states, something elusive flickering behind its eyes. 

A refined chuckle spills from my lips as I reply, ‘Truly, it is a welcome addition.’

I turn off the heat and set the simple supper down – the golden smell encircles us. I perch stiffly on my seat. As we begin, I feel the dove’s eyes on me yet again. 

‘I have not introduced myself, nor have you,’ the dove puts forth. 

A smile settles on my lips, and I nod agreeably. ‘Of course. I’m Carus, how about you?’

A beat passes. ‘Nova. You can call me Nova. I would like to get to know you,’ the dove replies. 

A puff of laughter and disbelief escapes me. ‘Alright, although I assure you, I’m nothing remarkable. Well…I’m twenty-six, um, I have two younger siblings…oh, and I work as an ER doctor.’

‘Impressive. ER doctor, at your age?’

A humble titter precedes my practiced preamble. ‘Oh, thank you but really, it’s no sorcery. I just graduated high school early and, well, med school and residency flew by.’

‘Still, it takes indelible talent. You must possess a raw aptitude.’

‘Please, it was entirely fortuitous timing – the heavens looking favourably upon me.’

Shaking her head, Nova continues. The praise rolls over itself, churning piles of sickly-sweet words coating me. My flesh begins to crawl as if a thousand ants are feeding off my spun sugar cage. Just as I begin to think I will drown under the saccharine compliments, Nova’s ensuing words bring me back.

‘Of course, it would be unbearably taxing.’ 

My heart jolts in elation, as the autonomous response rolls off my tongue. ‘Oh, but equally rewarding.’

‘Still,’ Nova continues, seemingly unaware of the finality in my response, ‘the pressure must be insurmountable.’

A familiar ringing begins its crescendo. It is as if the world is momentarily muzzled and I am that timid child slathered in praise, not knowing when the word ‘perfect’ had turned from wings into chains. My head begins to shake, and my lips part. Nova beats me to it. 

‘Not just the weight of another human’s life in your hands, which of course would drain any person’s soul but also–’ 

Colour bleeds from my face as I open my mouth. ‘Yes, of course, but-’

‘Also, the external pressures, thousands of eyes awaiting your immaculate image of perfection.’

My jaw quivers as I press my lips into faint lines. My vision and hearing seem to be framed with a foggy edge, muffling the path for coherent thoughts. ‘No, really-’

‘Although, forgive my memory lapse, as a prodigy you would be familiar with that.’

Frost courses through my veins, hands bleach white as I clutch the cutlery. The piercing steel of the utensils gnaws at the gauzy flesh of my palms. I am worried the metal will soon stoop under the excruciating force of my inexorable grip. ‘Listen-’

‘Late nights I imagine, working yourself to the brink.’

‘No, that is not-’

‘It must be hard to create space for yourself, with a job so all consuming – life-ending really.’

All the breath seems to vanish from my body at those words. My eyes fervently flit around the room, a desperate search to find a steady item to focus on. The bleary outlines of my apartment cackle at me as the world undulates out of control. ‘Ok, no you do not understand-’

‘When it does break the floodgates and drench everything you know, it must be hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel.’

I sound like my teenage self, spiralling into manic episodes, imploring my implacable thoughts to cease their rampant pursuit for perfection – a perpetually futile venture. ‘Stop, no-’

‘I suppose it’s all worth it to follow your dream. Tell me, when you were a fresh-faced little blessing, was it your dream to be a doctor?’

My fleeting breaths are foreign to me, frenzied pants gushing out of my parched mouth. ‘You have no idea, no idea-’

‘Or perhaps – I’ve seen it before, but correct me if I’m wrong – perhaps, it was someone else’s dream. A parent or a well-meaning teacher, hmm? Catching a sliver of your unadulterated drive, moulding you into the idealistic –’

A wailing screech erupts. I am wheezing, my breaths leaving in jerky surges. Several moments pass before I realise the howl came from me. A thick, heady tension swims in the air. Its cloying, mawkish tendrils permeate the room. I feel beady eyes, laden with quiet concern, on me. 

‘Just…stop.’ My shoulders slump as I sway. I collapse in my chair, flexing my shaky hands – fear and trepidation pool in my eyes. I tip my head back, the ribbony coils of my hair embracing me. 

‘Do you not wish for fulfilment? A life you desire?’, Nova questions in a feathery whisper.

‘This is the fulfilled life. Everyone’s waiting to shoot me down. People would kill for this,’ I shoot back, bitterness coating my words like sticky medicine.

‘Would you?’ A viscous silence drenches us.

Cracks fragment my words as I respond. ‘I would be nothing. Not worthy of praise, a failure.’

Ebony eyes stare into my blurry ones. ‘To what extent do you value other people’s perception of you?’ 

A burning sensation licks at my face, fiery red blazing on my cheeks. Nova continues, posing a question that stills my convulsing heart. ‘If given the choice, with no one there to impress their beliefs on you, what would you want?’

The only indication Nova hears my hazy answer is the near imperceptible glint in her knowing eyes. ‘Freedom,’ I murmur faintly. My eyes are fixed on the sinewy veins of my hands, mapped out paths of potential flight. ‘Freedom from the…the ever-present shackles of the burdens thrust upon me. I just want…reprieve from the monotonous sludge that has become my life.’

‘Why not do it now?’

A cough splutters out of me, and I heave. It is as if I’ve fallen into a lake and the water invades my lungs. Between rattling breaths, I squeeze out an answer. ‘Broken. All the – the cracks, the shards, the damage…it would be for nothing. Don’t you understand? The anguish of making it to the top pales in the face of the light - it cushions the fall. It is always better to fly, feel the sun, and fall, than to not feel the light at all.’

The stifling silence unfurls into a tranquil hum. 

‘What if…what if I could help? Give you the peace you so readily dole out to others?’ Nova proposes. My blank gaze narrows at the pooling secrecy in her eyes.

‘How?’ I scowl. Nova rustles her feathers, and I am about to snap at her before I realise. She rustles them again, elevating the previously broken wing. A crease splits my brow and my lip curls in confusion. It doesn’t…oh. It bowls me over, thrusting me back into the lake. 

‘You don’t mean…oh no. No way.’ I scramble back, meeting the unforgiving edge of the bay window. Nova, in her vexatious manner, lets the silence fall like a curtain. My shoulders heave but I suck in clattering gasps. ‘What if I…what if I did?’

Nova stares at me and I see my drawn face in her eyes.

Wringing my hands I begin to prattle, ‘Sure, of course, I won’t know until…’ Slowly, my head begins to nod – seemingly of its own violation. I stare unsurely at Nova. Her gaze lingers on the fabric encasing my back.

I peel it off, leaving the stark white of my tank top plastered against my clammy skin. I hold out my arms and I see her flicker of amusement. I hear the flap of her taking flight. Her keen claws dig into my creamy flesh and her feather soft touch travels across my shoulder blades. A halo made of pinpricks of light blooms. I stare open-mouthed at the downy feathers of the cape shrouding my back. The early streams of light are pouring through the bay window. I turn to Nova, unspoken emotions weighing on my tongue, and am met with a nod of understanding. The glacial panes of the window bite my hand as I push it open. My fingers curve over the balcony railing and I heave myself up. Staring into the vast sky, I let my wings unfurl. As the breeze greets me, the faint sound of Radiohead’s Let Down echoes. My head snaps back, my body recognising what it belongs to. I see the tiny hospital pager buzzing incessantly on the counter, where I idly discarded it. My eyes fall shut and my hand twitches in its direction.

I curl my fingers into a fist and peer into the sun’s rays. I hear the snap of my wings stretching into place. I step off. As the sun’s light emblazes white spots on my vision, I know I am not only reaching for the sun but for transcendence.