02 November 2016

Effulgence: A Short-Short Story

I haven't posted in almost a year. This morning I was looking through my files and I found this story. I vaguely recall something happening that caused me to write the story (dated many years ago), an attempt at communication that seemed to fail. But I don't really remember writing it. It's a strange feeling to read my own writing as if for the first time, as if I were a different person.


A man goes to the railway station. He stands apart from the group of people waiting on the platform for a glimpse of the Man. The train pulls in. The Man’s compartment happens to be right next to where the man is standing. The people know that the Man does not want them to enter the compartment. The man slips unnoticed into the compartment and stands at the end opposite from where the Man is sitting. The Man looks at him.

A feeling of effulgence comes over the reader of this story. Later, she tries to impart that same feeling to another person by reading the story aloud. She hears the words coming out of her mouth. They seem dull and her voice sounds monotonous. She gets to the end, where it says the man gets lost in the Man’s beauty, His light. The man forgets to get off the train, and it pulls away from the station while he is lost in Love. 

The person says the story is nice.

Why didn’t the effulgence go from here to there, through her to the person? The story was written by someone who knew someone who knew someone who knew the man who was looked at by the Man. Maybe there were too many layers in between.

Yet it did seem to come to her through the story. Now she wakes up early and feels the effulgence spread over her like a soft, fluffy white wing. It relaxes her being so that there is no pain, no sense of grossness. It breathes in and out. She imagines sharing it with the person and falls back asleep, letting it make its own silent journey.

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All quotes of Meher Baba © Avatar Meher Baba Perpetual Public Charitable Trust unless otherwise indicated. Writings by Kendra are © Kendra Crossen Burroughs unless otherwise noted.