Museum of Earth

The blue light filtered through the eye protection goggles into his green eyes. He nudged at the ground with his heavily padded foot; the padding stretching to cover his whole body. The artificial garden soil slowly flew up and after a couple of seconds inverted its trajectory in a projectile motion. He recalled his mother’s persuasive its-not-an-educative-trip look. Museum of Earth – the word ‘Museum’ in itself created a boring, monotonous feel. Add to that, the Earth, the pathetic historical planet that meekly succumbed to a few billion men’s static needs and you get a waste of time.

He would have anytime preferred Earth’s next-door neighbour, Mars. Gon, the Martian was no less than artistic in the narration of his stories on how the earth’s inhabitants were so reluctant to believe that the Martians really existed. But, a trip to the red planet was not on today’s schedule.

Mars had survived and easily catered to the needs of its inhabitants. Why couldn.t Earth? This, he noted in his mind as another available justification for his inexorable prejudice against the Earth.

Yet, his father’s whim had to be met with. Hence, he clambered onto his old horse, his super cosmic jet and strutted on towards the earth.

He lazily changed into a new suit – a new atmosphere, then broke into a short jog, to catch up with his family who were blatantly staring at a thick, brown, cylindrical pole with a tuft of green at the top.

“That”, said the guide “is a life-size model of a tree. On the earth, it used to serve as a natural producer of oxygen…” and so, he went on familiarizing them with several ‘tragically lost’ objects which the guide wished were still existent and to this expression he was forced to meet the guide’s eyes with an empathetic glance. Although, he had to agree that some of the big, muscular, yellow and black creatures, which walked on all fours, did look ‘kinda cool’. But, he brushed aside such thoughts, his mind returning to feelings of sympathy towards the planet’s former dwellers.

The long walk covering all the ‘irreprehensible links of human history’ in the guide’s words, ended at a huge 3-d video screen. All hopes of the latest movie were laid to rest as the words ‘MUSEUM OF EARTH’ moved towards him. The next second, he felt himself lost in a different world…

He tried to identify the objects around him in recollection, but his attempts were interrupted by thick clouds of smoke rushing at him from behind steel vehicles, which were moving along the ground. Suddenly, he was transported into the midst of a thick bunch of trees (was it?) nearly all of which were being felled by massive machinery. Within seconds, he was inside a giant conference hall where scientists were talking about something but he could tell they were worried judging by the grim expressions on their faces. He caught the terms, ‘carbon dioxide’, ‘greenhouse effect’ and ‘global warming’ among other unfamiliar phrases. Predictions were made of the melting of polar ice caps leading to the flooding of the continents. Next, he was transported into more futuristic settings, but a convention of equally sordid scientists, all the same, discussing the future of the human race on other planets earmarked as moderately suitable for inhabitation. Among the names thrown about, was a name he could identify with – blue planet 10, his native planet. Then he was shown a zoomed out view of the earth as huge spacecrafts flew away from it and simultaneously blue colour expanded its presence over green and brown patches.

He was abruptly awoken by the intensity of the truth and the fallacy of the lies he had chosen to believe all this time.

Bed Of Razors

He loved being typecast as the charming, romantic handsome man; not cute guy; with the magical voice because he beleived it fitted his description perfectly. And he knew as always, that it was his charms htat had paved the way to her heart. He had calmly shifted them from their previous location on the sofa to a more comfortable place - Her Bed

*****

She offered no resistance. This was one of her easier ventures since he believed he was the master of the art of seduction. But she had to give him credit. Any normal woman would have fallen prey to him.

He was now working his hands from her face to her shoulders. She suddenly released from his grasp but masked all signs of discomfort.

"I have a sruprise for you. I'll be back"

This had never occurred previously. She had never been so deeply involved. She had never lost sight of her living mottoi, never had got distracted from the motive of her existence for all these years and the years to come.

She walked past the doorway into her kitchen.

She was 12 years of age, when the plae face resting on huge shoulders with the crystal green eyes smiled. The large hand supported by muscular arms held her narrow figure in place, against her will.

And it happened. She lost her virginity and it was not a romantic night. She cried, fled her city, still crying. Slowly, the tears of disappointment transformed into tears of rage.

She picked up the knife form the kitchen slab.

She had had men at her place on several occasions. But no male life ever departed her four walls. Seduction was the weapon, the knife merely an aid. The weqapon wielding skill she had mastered.

Walking into the room of vengeance on masculinity, she caught a glance of him, and clenched the knife tightly behind her back with both hands.

He was special, she acknowledged it. He was different. And her lapse in concentration conveyed the message to her mind, that she loved him. She loved him, she realized. He was special, he was the man she loved, but a man nevertheless.

Her eyes met with his, her lips expanded into a sly smile, well crafted to hide the thoughts running through her head, making it look like an anxious smile seeking a reaction to the surprise.

His calm blue eyes morphed into those evil green ones. His face broadened and paled. His magical smile lost its charm and she picturised the horrific moment once again............Only now, she was in control.

She took out the knife, flshed the blade in front of his face and bared a smile which had nothing to hide. And now, she raised the knife above her head and shrieked satisfying her sadistic desire.

She could see eminent fear in his eyes due to the imminent danger to his life that he faced. But astonishingly his face was serene. But his lips trembled, as he tried to say something........

*****

"I love you", he muttered inaudibly. But he had no doubt that she had heard them as if the heavens had thundered the words were still ringing in her ear, her head!

But his plan had failed, for the blade swung. The tip pierced the sternum and blood blotted the bed covers. But, the body that lay limp was female, the blood that flowed was female and the sternum that gave way was female.

He heaved a sigh of relief, gasped at the gory sight that lay in front of him and thought to himself.

"Women......torn between conflicting emotions."

Shattered Mask of Sanity

The acid boiling in him was obscured by the aura of pretence he enveloped himself in. A shell of innocence impenetrable to those who wished to unveil his true character.

The mask he wore led to character reviews of a timid, innocent and WEAK person. WEAK...... he picturised himself eerily laughing at the usage of the word in connection with him. .......weak.....10 years back, his peers had suffered the wrath of that word......................................

.......He was constantly the butt of their jokes. 'kick me' signs stamped on his back; he was regularly pushed around by the "strong guys"?!!........That provide the fuel !

An overnight excursion brought along with it an unadvisable usage of the word 'weak' on HIM. The assassin in himreceived the orders..... loud and clear.........

The night was perfectly suited for romance, a first date, a kiss under the moonlight! silent night....... in his eyes, the night was perfectly suited for a murder, no three brutal murders in cold blood...Silence of the night to be shattered by screams of fear and agony.......He saw the calm on their unaware faces. Then he dived into a frenzy, a drugged high...................

The only image remnant in his memory was of the three bodies, wretched souls departed, stabbed as though a half-eaten lion's meal -- gore galore............

Sweeet, sweet revenge.

And now, he stood in front of the mortal panel of judges backed by the mortal witnesses and the parents of the three who had incurred the wrath of mortality waiting............ for the death sentences.

DEATH..............the easy way out

The End Of Days

The blood curdling past made another sweep through her brain. It reminded her of the days she never felt like returning home from school. The days she used to envy normal people with normal lives. The days and nights she spent crying after her father molested her. The days she watched her mother being mercilessly beaten, emotions oscillating between empathy for her mother and sympathy for herself. The days which were about to mutate overnight, from the endless present to a definite past.

She resented her childhood. Living in constant fear and terror rather than enjoying an age of innocence. Ambitions avoided career but her thoughts lingered around survival strategies. Nightmares were a pleasant, much welcomed deviation from the horrific daily doses of reality. The imaginative spirit of her childhood was directed towards plotting the most brutal deaths for her father. But lack of courage betrayed her creativity.

But now, she stood there with sadistic satisfaction surging through her body. She felt felt triumph flowing through her veins elevating her to the peak of sarcasm as she spoke the words that would ring through the last moments of her father’s life…..
“Oh Dad, Dear Dad! Momma’s hung you in the closet and I’m feeling so sad!”