Every question doesn't have to get shut off with a quick fix, and so forth, every question doesn't seem to end with a question mark. As often as not, it ends with a full stop.
I went gawping and scrutinizing the passageway, even though it was too deep and dark.
It was a bizarre situation. My consciousness was filled to overflowing.
I kept my foot one step at a time.
I could only eye the flared-up gateway.
It intuited like someone was inside the room. The door reflected the bright light, which felt eerie.
In a split second, his piercing scream echoed. Said - Wait!!.. Don't go there!!
I was transfixed by unearthly quiet and that eldritch gateway.
I kept moving on. I paid no heed to his words.
Here and now, standing in front of the door, my heart pounded. I reached my palm and got my fingers griped on the doorknob.
______________________________________
"Ahhhhhhhhhhh...the fuck!!!!!!!!
what the!! What t-h-e hell !!"
His aged face was splotched with gore and blood. Grey-haired man, sitting on a tarnished chair, his gashed wrists tied on either side. He suffered brutal lacerations to his head and face.
I stood aghast in sight of so much blood. I stopped dead and turned to face him. I became paralysed with shock.
He divulged indistinctly that he wants to verbalize.
He mumbled something under his breath. His body was all bedaubed with pus, blood, long shallow scrapes everywhere.
I advanced my feet towards him.
"untie me, please", he shed a piercing cry and subsequently the room was filled with shrieks of cry.
I had terrible instincts about this one . Yet, I should untie him down. We can both make it out of here, aftermath.
I heard tramps of exasperation. The closer he was marching, the louder his tramps was heard.
I took a rod beside me. What a cool moment! I swear, I will be awarded Padma Vibhushan for saving someone.
He had already set foot in. I will make a contribution to the situation.
I threw myself with vigour towards his orientation of body.
He absolutely threw me aside in a corner.
"What kind of self-respecting man does that?!" I screamed more than that lacerated fellow.
Zahir took out an M4 carbine, and the sounds of gunfire echoed in the room.
The bullet pierced slowly into the old man, right, left, and center of his chest. At every turn, when bullets had penetrated his chest, he gulped, short-winded. Lastly, he couldn't pull through.
Zahir slew him in seconds.
You know, there is a huge difference between luck and life. The thing is, when just a set of circumstances i.e your life in a situation, is jammed with a bugbear, it can be cured but when your luck is jammed up with consternation, it can never let you get cured. It will follow you, it will run after you, it will stab you, and every second it will cross paths with you until you finally end in your death throes.
In a swooned condition, through the lid of my eye nictate, I glimpsed a figure standing in the shade, and I was being carried on his arms.
His breaths I could here, his racing heartbeats could be felt, his hands smeared with blood itself.
Shots of gun fires were ringing in my ears. Everytime multiple discharges of firearms were heard. The projectiles were fired right into my chest. I wasn't dead still. His constant utterance were ringing in my ears.
It was distinctly heard on minimal conscious state.
"shana, wake up, goddamn, cmon!!". He limped heavily as he moved. His words grew higher in pitch everytime he shot me but he wasn't really Zahir.
Appearances interchanged every time, he was dad, then mom, Siddharth.
"Fuck Shana!", he sealed his mouth over mine and blew steadily and firmly for about 1 second.
"Mom no!!!", my chest rose. I regained consciousness. I was breathing hard, abnormally high. His palms were firmly kept on my cheeks. Tears shed and slid down my face. I was on the tabletop. I closed my eyes so they know what's happening isn't real but nothing worked instead of shedding bucket of more tears.
He put his head before the very eyes of my face, washed off my tears, took
me in his arms, and balanced me down firmly on his bed.
He gently pressed my palms and
Ran his thumb over my knuckles and rubbed small circles on the back of my hand.
"I know that this must feel terrible right now. I'm so sorry."
he reassured that he is there for me.
"I-I am scared of them..". I sobbed and clasped my fingers accidentally to his.
Light touchings can work wonders
"Them? There's no one else in here", he furrowed his eyebrows and his expressions were drawn to solicitude.
"how long was I passed out". I was regaining my concious state.
"Not long ". He said. "uh, I have some works to complete, you can rest here peacefully if-you want me to lea-".
He leaned closely to creat an emotional intimacy. He
ran his hands across my face in smooth caresses.
Slowly and lightly he sweeped his tongue along my lower lip, tongue, and gums and pulled his lips apart every once in a while to put some intense connection and gaze into each other's eyes.
I could only blink for such moves in real. I wasn't aware of anything other than his next move.
He leaned his body over mine. He made his way towards the blanket, necking me. He patted my forehead and closed my eyes. He cuddled with my body, and wrapped his arms around me. That tiny back was against his stomach.
We entwined all the time, even when sleeping.