Chapter -1
(The decline of a Can-A-be)
In the era of distress, disasters, and atrocities, there is always someone with an untold plan to end the hardships, someone with no courage to even take the first step—a person who never had ears to be heard.
It sounds peculiar and sympathetic, right? The deeper it sounds, the more rotten it gets.
The decline of a can-a-be is because of being stuck over maybe.
Well, this sounds all interesting until you realise that there always exists a hero with ultimate valour and augustic plans. Mostly celebrated on cloud nine. But not all heroes are termed saviours; rather, they are blamed or called failures for making the efforts that many would have dreamt about.
Some heroes turn into fallen angels of the modern world until they suffer enough to become devils.
But as we all know, pen works in order to adore, to speak the words that have never been spoken, heard, or told.
It scribbles tales of forgotten or never-existing pasts and such was the tale that my aunt' Kaya' used to narrate every night before bedtime until she got married off. The tale was based on a mansion, which my aunt's friend got as a gift.
The tale was about a hero who was sentenced to death as an accused betrayal. It went by like this-
" In the far east of our state, there was an all-children's asylum. The asylum was marked by a special quality of children. They weren't children but immature adults, with no smile on their faces and no feelings in their hearts. It was hard to differentiate between them and machines. The reason they turned out like this was that the asylum wanted to create' Patriots' for the nation. Its notion forced it to shelter only those kids with athletic potential, a nice physique, or great health. Infants with good health and immunity were only taken in. Any touch of the outside world was considered sin, while the frontline was called the door to heaven. While making army enlistments, these children were taken in first, irrespective of their age. Our protagonist was one of them. He was a skilled person, designed and crafted to be a great strategist. Because the asylum was always busy with training and children rarely spoke, the names of children were only known in documents or on the epitaph..
Once, there was a massive drought on the frontline. The forests were dry yet dense, and the vaporized river created soft soil here and there. A single act would have resulted in a forest fire. Therefore, regular checkups were conducted twice a day. It was the day of our protagonists' shift. While wandering, he noticed an enemy regiment 230 meters and half yards away from their bunkers. Immediately he thought about why it had never been noticed before, then he put this notion away, hurrying back to his location to report his sighting. He had two choices: to march straight to the lion's den or report the sighting. He chose the latter, which was worse, as the innocent child didn't know how corrupt the outside world was. More than half of his team was either mixed with woes or working for money.
After hearing his reporting, the captain divided groups to monitor the regimental settlement and declared alert mode. The protagonist was made the leader of the team, with 17 members positioned closest to the regiment in camouflage. Sounds all great until the month of fall strikes. Due to excess heat, the forest was caught in flames. To make it even worse, the enemy started moving to take advantage of the smoke and lack of visibility for an attack. War broke out. Our nameless hero lashed violently but patiently at the regiment. Taking advantage of the flames, he created a false show of forest fire entering the camps, and as soon as the enemy stepped out, their silenced guns would silence them forever. Everything was going smoothly until the foolishly nameless man went down to search for anyone still remaining.
Crushing the burnt used cigarettes with his foot he said in a proud ridden tone-'
'is desh ki mitti par sirf desh bhakt ka vash ho sakta hai "
His Hindi accent was pure and soothing enough to make the betrayal behind him ache to stab right in his eyes as soon as he flipped back. Though the attacker aimed at his throat, the speed and distance made him miss the point. Nameless unraveled the man's fingers holding the knife by pressing them hard, even though it was making the knife penetrate deeper. He blocked other attacks with his one hand and kicked the attacker down. Then, using all of his might, he rapidly, without a single thought, drew out the knife, ensuring that the bulb remained intact. A man with goosebumps and red-glistening palms. They were so red, they didn't even resemble blood. The way the dark liquid kissed his rocking chest and dripped down his cheeks was not adequately described in bio courses. As warm and numb as his heart was, so was his face. Before the man could even stand up to attack, he was pierced by the knife as he roared. Others who had heard him roared in response to the scene of the beast being stabbed to death and whose garments had failed to recognize whose blood they were soaking in. They stopped him bottoming up their decrepit strength after seeing a man turned into a beast
It took seven full days of a rigorous course of war before the state won. Many died, many survived, but the jungle was all destroyed, just like the nameless man. Three weeks of coma due to excess blood loss made him lose all his treasures. The other teammates framed him for murdering the murderer and termed him a betrayal. The media released curses about him to the crowd. He was suspended on account of disability and diluted mental state.
the first feeling he ever experienced turned out to be an unredeemable curse. Locked in his huge mansion with the hope that one day he will get justice and the investigation will end. But little did he know, his hope was short-lived as his neighbors set his house on fire with gasoline one fine night. Nobody knows afterward."
Well... Well, this is all that I remember, but what's the use now? I have rented his mansion, which is said to be haunted by his unpatriotic soul, even in his 20s. Like, who believes in this stuff? Ha-ha, I do. I freaking do, but I'm a broken, sadistic girl, so I have to survive there with an entity six years older than me. Ha, joke on you if you think it's creepy, because after all
What's erotic is also the most exotic and petrifying, which is a great thing to say.