Flailing attempts at prose

I invest more in the smaller plans. The big ones, almost never work out. I think I tend to believe that there is some grand plan for each of us and it’s the tiny ones that we are allowed to tinker with. Sometimes I would get glimpses into this big plan at my old house. I would go to the terrace nearly every day in the evening to sit in the sunset. As far as terraces go, it wasn't spectacular. My house was by no means the tallest building. And the time had passed when you could see the sea from the terrace. New buildings had come up by the time I started frequenting the terrace. To my right was one of those big towers? Electric ones? I’m not sure. It was constructed on another tall building. I would always look at that the peak of that tower and wish I could be up there, closer to the sky.  Often, there would be a lone crow sitting up there watching everything else. It looked incredibly lonely to me. But I always sought that even as a child. It was still unsettling. Like the skeleton of something abandoned. Or rather the skeleton of something that would grow only that far. No flesh for this building. So I had this skeletal tower to my right.

In front of me was a big coconut tree-the branches draped themselves over the wall under which I would sometimes hide when I was a child.  When I grew older, that side of the terrace always frightened me. When the sun set and everything was thrown into shadow, that part looked especially dark and impenetrable to me. And yet I always felt like I was being watched from something in there. I always had the sense of something small, female and abandoned sitting there watching me. Sometimes I would leave the terrace, too frightened to stay when it got dark. Later, I decided that I wouldn’t be chased off my own terrace and learned to stay there and face my fears. I remember I would talk loudly to myself telling whomever I thought (of felt) was there that I wasn’t there to hurt them and maybe we could co exist happily. Soon I stopped being frightened and would stay for hours not leaving till I was called for dinner. I think something still waits for me there. That patch of sky above that terrace is mine. My big plan has been written there and its waiting for me to read it.