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Curtain of Darkness 



Was it enough? Was it worth it? Am I ready? The whirlpool of questions in my mind brought back the bittersweet memories. My Head was spinning and my heart demanded answers. I was running wildly in the huge forest and I would stop only at the promise of answers.

I woke up in a different land, a different mind, a different body. A smug smile replaces my frightened expression. The syringe was kept at just a hand stretch away. It pierced my skin and sent a chilling, yet burning sensation in my body. The choice was mine. The pain was mine. The answer would be mine.

Every day a new customer, another soul exasperated and lost with their life, trying to get rid of their own inflicted pain. Ha. Their pain would be mine. Mercilessly, I would jam the needle into the neck of the victim, a painful present resulting in a painless future. Every day another prey, more pain, and even more freedom.

But today the time had arrived. The pain of others would engulf me to relieve me of the tremor of my past. It is said that only others can heal your pain. Its implementation would give me the answers I seek. The relief I deserve. And the pain that acts as the elixir of strength.

16th October, 1993. It had been twenty- five years. Exactly 25 years. She said to me – “It took me 9 months to form your heart, do not let anyone break it in fifteen seconds.” But Maa, you took away my heart the day God took away your life. Every second without you was an epitome of torture. Your absence made me weak, it made me into stone. You’ll see, how once & for all I relieve myself and nestle my head in your bosom.

I plunged the syringe into my heart. A drop of every soul’s misery that would liberate my own insomnia and madness. A prick that would set me free, and a drop of hurt that would give me answers. I screamed and blood streamed down my cheeks as the noise engulfed me in their waves and at last there was silence.

The little boy is running down a road quite near the forest. The ball he was playing with rolled over down the road. As the seven years old ran to grab his toy, a great light was approaching him and he screamed. He suddenly felt a large push, and staggered forward into the grass head first and saw his mother in a pool of blood. The life was draining out from her warm brown eyes as she shut them, never to be opened again.

I made a mistake, Oh I made a terrible mistake. The boy ran wildly through the woods with a whirlpool of questions in his mind. His head was spinning and heart demanded answers. Will she be alright? Was I worth it? Is it over? He did not know. And then there was a curtain of darkness, never to be lifted again.


Rishika


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