Shack, the Shelter

It was a gloomy morning that day. The clouds seemed to be engrossed in some sort of a team huddle. Newer, smaller clouds showed excitement and eagerly joined them like exuberant kids when invited into a game of adults. Every now and then there was the occasional thunder as if those clouds roared in approval of a plan. Amidst this congestion, slivers of sunrays struggled past the cloudy huddles and sprinted towards the earth, falling softly on the still moist surfaces. One such ray of light had been struggling for quite some time, shoving and pushing its dainty self against the huge and bulky masses of gas only to be suffocated in their midst. Finally, as if tired of amusing themselves by the tenacity of this ray, the clouds let it pass. It passed haughtily, its pride refusing to accept that it was the clouds that allowed it and not its gallantry. Off it went, beaming through the sky and moving merrily towards the earth when it suddenly wanted to stop in its tracks. It didn’t want to go where it was headed anymore. The prospect of embracing an ugly, dilapidated and worn out mass of brick and mortar made it squirm and want to retract. It was getting closer now, with each second, moving towards the sorry excuse of a house and it started screaming but it didn’t help. Finally, despite its efforts, the ray fell face first onto the roof, as if shoved into a shooting line, blindfolded. It was still there, still hoping it weren’t true when it heard an old sound, something that resembled a voice but was too muffled as though smeared in dust, “Hello.” It said. “My name is Shack”. There was a time when Shack was taken care of. Those who lived in him made sure he was always happy and healthy. They fixed him when he leaked, when he was broken and when he needed a renovation. With its passage, time had become scarce for those who lived in him. The first victim was hygiene. Although they wanted to, nobody seemed to have the time or the energy to clean him up. Then fell the plumbing, leaks had become recurrent and intense each time. All the inhabitants could do was wipe Shack’s perpetual tears but they did not end their cause, his agony. Mustering all his strength, Shack creaked and squeaked about his pain, his problems. But the people just walked over them, as if bluntly telling him to bear it, to shut up. Shack’s roof started to wear out, water used to get clogged up on the terrace in monsoons and Shack had to hold that extra weight on his deteriorating body. It made him sweat. The inhabitants saw Shack sweat but just covered up the tracks and put buckets in places where it dripped. It was getting harder and harder for him, he had started to reek and moss grew all around him. It was in this sorry state that the ray had found him. The ray couldn’t control its emotions at the plight of Shack. It decided that it, being a symbol of hope, nourishment and happiness, must do something to help the poor mass of brick and mortar. So it waited. Patiently. Till it was a little after midday. One of the inhabitants was out in the balcony, staring out into the sky, ignoring the chaos made by his kind stretching as far as the horizon lay, trying to forget that he was a part of it, one of the myriad instruments that had contributed to this chaos. The ray saw a shard of glass on the ground, it knew that in another couple of minutes, it could get to it. The clock ticked. Time had never passed so slow for the ray. Finally, as if impulsively, the ray moved from Shack’s roof to the shard of glass and with all its strength and radiance reflected off of it right towards the man and hit him like a feather in the face. He squinted, amazed at the abruptness of it all. When his eyes adjusted to the surroundings, he felt sadness punch him in the gut. That pain which you don’t realize but starts rearing its ugly head after a while, announced itself. The man was looking at the reflection of Shack in the shard of glass. He couldn’t believe his sight. Running out of the balcony and then out of the house, he looked at Shack. It was right then that he decided he couldn’t just allow Shack to be like this. He called Houzkare, the best in business that could take excellent care of Shack and the rest as they say, is history. http://www.houzkare.com/professional-home-cleaning-services.html

Comments? Questions? Email Here

© HowtoAdvice.com