INDEX OF A DEATH

     As the spattering raindrops made their way down the window-pane, my eyes followed their watery trail. It is so hard to forget things you dearly want to. The cherished memories of the past fast become the present’s gateways to insanity.

      I remember her, as she stood in front of me. So vibrant. So lively. So full of life. So beautiful….. in her flower-printed dress and straw hat, her lips giving me that dimpled smile I fell in love with her for. Her hair flowing….buffeted by a non-existent breeze. Her eyes, the delicious colour of honey. That’s how I remember her. The last time I saw her

….alive.

    

       My memory suddenly fast-forwards. I was entering an unbearably cold room with the ostentatious smell of chemicals attacking my nostrils. The doctor was younger than me, but he was rock steady. Anyway it wasn’t him who had gone deathly pale on being surrounded by cadavers, one of whom was the love I’d give my life for. I was led to those tables having the fresh arrivals in the morning, the spotless white sheet stained with a fresh red. He removed one of the sheets, and I stared down at her ageless beauty. She was so serene, so lovely….even in death, that Hades would have a hard time keeping his hands off her. Her skin felt icy-cold and unresponsive as I caressed a finger down her cheek. My eyes came to rest at her forehead. There right between her eyes was the bullet-hole….

Made by the bullet from my gun.

    A thunder-clap and  lightning flash breaks my reverie. To clear my head, I look down, and notice, on my right hand, the stub of skin and muscle where once an index finger stood. Justice is always brought to the culprit, even if that culprit is only an index finger…………

The Fire Spitter

        The dusty town grew even more so, as a Dust Devil enveloped it. It was almost dusk when the watch-out noticed something, he gave one sharp whistle, audible even over the howling winds, and the streets filled with people almost instantly. The orange sun was looming large over the horizon, when a horse came into view. The sun behind it and dust swirling all around it gave it somewhat of a mythical look.

As the horse came closer, they saw that it was on its death-throes, and also it had no rider, only a lumpy package on its saddle. Suddenly the horse faltered and stumbled to the ground just on the edge of town. The blanket covering the package got thrown off in the process. As they gathered around, the people saw, two two year-olds, strapped securely together, fast asleep. The Village Headman checked the horse and found the Emperor’s Mark, Even the twins had them on their forearm, ‘The Fire-spitting Dragon’. He raised his hands to the sky as if in dismay, and said a silent prayer to the Departed. Turning to the townspeople, he said, ‘ We have lost the War. The world shall be overrun by the worshippers of The Dark Shadow. But we have the burning splinters, which can bring back light to this dark world. It is upon us to preserve it!’

The Return of The Empire

                

       

         The setting sun cast a red glow over the entire vista. Standing on the high plateau, two swordsmen stared into each other’s eyes. One was a tall, fair-haired, blue-eyed man who exuded an air of coolness. The other one was of medium height and dark hair and his eyes were burning with an intense green fire. It was obvious from his clenched fists that he was just about to let fury take over his sanity, An eagle flying overhead shrieked, and something snapped. The two men clashed and dematerialized, next second they were in another position, the next second in another. It was as if they were teleporting all over the expanse of the plateau. At one point they sprang apart. The fair one had a long broadsword, held in the ninja stance, while the dark-haired one held something like rapiers in both his hands, but with much stouter bodies. The eagle screamed again and the fight began anew. They both knew that only one of them would be walking away from this fight alive and towards his freedom. As they continued to attack each other, each maneuver was greeted by a thousand-throated roar, demanding only one action, ‘Kill! Kill! Kill!’…..

     The year, circa. 3450  A.D. The two fighters were gladiators. The place, ‘The New Colosseum’. Juan Caesar looked on from atop his High box and smiled. It felt good to be a Roman citizen again………