by: Tapsya Pandita
The tangled boughs and the spilling downpour through them sang mercilessly. The morning had dissolved into a darker prospect. The darkness seemed to penetrate the core of light. The world was spinning around me. The shrieks got louder with every passing second. The road ahead was covered in blood. Men were slain and women raped. A mirror reflected my visage daubed with soil. My sight could not discern my own identity. They had ... my soul and served it to themselves in a plate. I pulled my hair but couldn't feel them on my head. I felt bare, nude, and, there was no hair anywhere on my skin. I was flesh; pure specimen of carnality to be devoured for pleasure. People were running outside. And, I stood trapped inside, among blood and bodies, swirling like a whirlpool around death.
And suddenly, I got up.
And suddenly, I got up.