Book 1

How about some deaths?

Chapter 1

For years, I have wanted to find a room in which, the smartest person isn't me.

-WILLIAM, THE HERO

23rd February 2018

In a report, I would not grade my experiences of the day, as anything less than traumatic. To watch a person die, was indeed, something new for me.

Perhaps, I have ruined the chapter for you. Now that you know that a man is going to die …. Ah, I did it again.

Regardless, now that you know someone is going to die, and, that someone is going to be a man, will you stop reading the book? I wish you would. But it's your decision.

It seems that you are still with me. That's unfortunate.

At about noon, I was present inside a building, the location of which, I cannot disclose. I was making my way down the stairs, for reasons, I won't specify.

I progressed slowly. There were things on my mind, that at that time, I found troublesome. To take my mind of those, I distracted myself by finding cracks in the building.

That was easy.

There were many irregularities. The whole structure begged for renovation. Pity, the society probably couldn't afford it. Fading paint on the wall, dust and mud over the floors and other things, suggested a lack of proper maintenance.

But my concern for cleanliness was put on hold. I stopped, then angled my head upwards, looking askance. So did, all of the other people using the stairs. My earlier chain of thoughts had been broken by a scream. It had come from above. Instinctively, I climbed two steps. Then, I looked at the others – who I believe were residents – for an explanation. Their initial expressions of surprise, had withdrawn from their faces.

I wasn't sure, what to do.

Should I go and offer my help? I didn't even know if my assistance was required or if it would be appreciated.

Instinctively, I started going down the stairs. Don't judge me. I hadn't decided yet, what I was going to do. I already had my own problems, and they had numbed my mind, restricting any grave response out of me. So, while I was contemplating over this issue, I walked down a whole flight of steps. Then, it happened again. Someone screamed.

Two things were different this time. First, the voice was quite distinctively – masculine and it clearly hinted agony. Second, I decided to act.

On my run upstairs, I didn't encounter any of the people, that I had seen climbing the steps. They seemed to have evaporated - somehow. I rushed myself, trying to climb the stairs. The funny thing is, I didn't know where the voice came from. Obviously from above, but what floor? I didn't contemplate over that. No, I am not stupid. I was just mystically being controlled by a deity like being. And perhaps, during my flight upstairs, I wasn't capable of rational thought. Anyways, at the speed I was running, it's a miracle that I didn't stumble and had my leg broken. Oh, how I wish I had.

Anyways, I only stopped when I had reached the penultimate floor. It was as if someone was guiding me. Even when I knocked at their door, I don't think I was completely in control.

Seconds later, the door opened revealing a girl of about eighteen with long black hair and blue eyes, and towering behind her, was a boy – presumably her brother, due to resemblance – couple of years younger, with similar eyes and faintly brown hair. The boy looked uncertain, but the girl smiled at me.

"It's kind of you to come." said the girl as she took my hand and led me inside.

They left the door ajar. Something about that didn't feel right.

She wasn't holding my hand anymore, but I followed her to one of the rooms. It had a big door – painted white, the same colour as the walls. In fact, whatever furniture they had along with tiles on the floor, was white in colour. That made me wonder, if these brown people were racists.

Many lame jokes await you.

Anyways, then she opened the door. Naturally, I followed her inside. There was darkness in the room, until the girl put the lights on. The bulb's illumination revealed a man lying on the bed – everything except head – covered by a black sheet.

Pale skin, blonde hair, green eyes, he was clearly not Indian. There was no smell of rot or blood – the girl's work – and the man appeared to be sleeping. Still, I kept my distance.

"Do your stuff," commanded the boy.

"I am sorry, what?" I replied.

"For god's sake," said the boy, rolling his eyes.

The boy stood where he was, the girl however, on noticing that no action was being taken, walked up to the bed, then gestured for me to come closer.

I did as implied.

She pulled the sheet off the man.

Now I noticed the wound on his shoulder. He was stabbed. That much was easily discernible. At this point, I had deduced there was something wrong with me. I didn't react appropriately. Instead of screaming and running, I just stood there, focussed on the man.

"He is wounded but not dead," said the girl. Then added "Go ahead. Help his misery."

"You want me to treat him?" I asked "I am sorry, but I am no doct…."

The boy clasped his hands in irritation

"No!" the boy interrupted "Cut his throat, smash his hea…."

This time, I interrupted him by saying "You want me to Kill him?"

"Well, duh." Said the girl, rolling her eyes.

Somehow, my senses returned – for a very brief period of time – and I delivered the apt response.

"Are you crazy?"

In retrospect, the apt response would have been to run.

The siblings were dumbfounded, looking at each other nervously.

A silence ensued in the room, making me wonder if I could just walk out, without any consequences.

"Are you not a kshatriya?" asked the girl, finally speaking.

"A what?" I was baffled, now why would someone ask me that?

The boy walked over to the door, then closed it. I knew something strange was going to happen, but when it did, I was truly caught off guard.

The girl crooked her finger at me, and I found myself flying towards the wall at the end of the room. I smashed my head on it. Then it all went black.