Sniffing away relentlessly, an inconceivable and
uncontrollable urge to leak the faucet, the dripping human nose being a mere
tollbooth to cave-ins and nauseating caverns. Its roots unknown, its parents
reported missing, an orphan from the faults in deep sea ridges. You’d ask who?
The question would remain answered, well at least for now…
A streamlined body, leathered hands and a concave belly
being the virtues, or in other words the blood and sinew of a midnight tinted
dodge SRT. Wind in your hair, crispy blooming meadows breezing past and the
occasional stench from the unmanned drainage… would thus confirm that you are
currently headed to Pitch Forke Inn, please turn left at the intersection…
We delay, we procrastinate, and we dodge… the question
remains unanswered. It’s almost as if we’re banking onto the freeway and are
not willing to pullover for a speeding ticket. We maneuver our thoughts into
twisted alleys and beat-up sidewalks only to find the answers ever-eluding,
never within grasp. People would be telling you about life being an erring
pilgrimage, it’s onset unknown and only the soul that would apparently live on
and on and… but wait that’s just too mainstream. We’re but a working machine.
One with limbs that need to complement each other or else it’s just another
salsa number which isn’t your cup of tea. We would end up being wandering
minstrels, Musicians of Bremen to be precise. So make haste and if at first you
don’t succeed, then sleep as snug as a bug on a rug and do not expect a hug…
Dazed and drowsy, a lethargic feeling at this unearthly
hour. Hot, sticky and irritable, my mood swung… Retracing my steps and
simultaneously my thoughts, I tracked back to the time when I last breathed
freshness and serenity. Her intoxicating fragrance made my heart enter into a
phase of sudden skips and frenzies, and then something stopped…
No, I was pretty much alive and it was just that I had
momentarily lost the synchrony between my thoughts and reality. On the outside
I seemed calm, composed and certain, inside something stirred from its slumber.
Tearing through my ribs, I did feel that searing pain and a throbbing headache,
migraines? Seriously? No something awful, sinister and dark just ended its
hibernation and I was at its epicenter.
Elsewhere… Basking in the glory of the sun, beads of sweat
trickling down seamlessly, I ignored the shade of the barn. The basement door
lay ajar, its latch gnawed at the hinges. Do cannibals live here? A rhetorical
question, but someone did answer. A cave-man build, shabby attire and an
unkempt beard, he looked far from the apparent influencing aura of
civilization.
A slithered neck being the one-way ticket to oblivion. It
was a mere act of trespasser prosecution; a bounty shall not be paid. Whizzing
bullets, improvised obstacles and holes in the woodwork, the struggle lasted a
mere four minutes. An unearthly silence followed, accompanied by short gasps
and hurried set of footsteps, leading into the forest floor. The canopy was my
friend; the search party was thus eluded. The barn was holed up bad but the
basement latch, the mother of all insignificant materialistic trinkets, bore a
distinct fingerprint… evidence that betrays me badly.
Luncheon was served at some places; dishes were piled with
red blood corpuscles of those invited to the humble feast, leukemia and
erythropenia were least of their concerns. The end justified the means; the
crowd was humbled and dispatched from earth. Some meals are easily digested,
other such as supper for instance don’t tag along too well. That’s when you
walk the plank unknowingly because if you ever thought there was something in
the dark…you were pretty much correct.
Lurking in the shadows, a child of midnight, blending into the
tree line, his silhouette hat of a reaper. He had befriended stealth long back
and now emerging from the undergrowth he stood watching, vengeance in his eyes.
The city skyline with its glory, majesty and extravagance had a blinding aura
about it, and imperfect metaphor.
