It began as a part of
exploration, invading into an unknown territory. Striking off one more fancy
that he had dreamed off.On that deserted night, he wandered for hours before
uncovering a pitch-dark corner, marginally irradiated.
His anxious feet abruptly paused
there, to commence the long awaited ordeal. With pulsating heartbeats he lit
the DEMON an ally handed him. Inhaling a never ending dependency on drugs,
giving complete control of self to the enslavement.
With inflamed eyes he looked at the manifestation that stood in front of him. Even his clone dreaded his appearance. He dressed every day for a celebration called homicide. Mayhem is where he belonged. His Fate was to inflict pain where ever he walked, in fact he breaded on it. Hatred for the human race was just, because he was badly broken once.
With some licks and drool on the face Mason woke up. It was Oliver, sitting on top of him with one of the cutest smiles. Saying, “Dad get up, its Sunday! We are already late. We need to hit the road ASAP. Wear your Sunday dress and take me for a long drive NOW.” It was hard for Mason to disregard these strong signs displayed by Oliver. Windows lowered, “Turn the Page by Metallica” on full volume and foot on the accelerator. In no time did the car race with the gushing winds. This was the sheer idea of happiness for Oliver. Mason was relishing this experience while the smooth roads complimented their drive. Oliver and Mason were too indulged in the moment. On their way back home, Mason paused at a super market to buy some goodies, toys and chicken pedigree for Oliver. At the back of the mind, Mason knew, he was failing to give enough time and attention to Oliver and maybe that’s why Oliver stayed low during the major part of the day. Seeing Mason walk towards the car, Ol...
Circumstances handed over a gun in his tiny hands at a tender age. He instantly fell in love with the aesthetics of that lethal weapon. It was like a calling that lured all his senses. Starvation, insomnia, deprivation of bread and roof gave birth to the savage inside him. The bond with the revolver was accelerating with each bullet he shot. Ripping people off their skin, witnessing them bleed to death satisfied his gut. Slaughtering people granted his twisted soul infinite vigor. He was becoming a well-known name in the underworld. At the age of 29, Musaa had become the biggest contract killer alive in the state. He was a mother freaking terror walking tall on the abandoned streets of Mumbai. Inhabitants lived in constant fear of death. Musaa was on the pinnacle of success until,'SHE' walked in.....
Nice one :-)
ReplyDeleteThanks Aparna ../\..
DeleteVery succinct
ReplyDeleteThank you :)
DeleteGood elaboration.
ReplyDeleteThanks Ashwini :)
DeleteToo Intense description of the matter. Absolutely Brilliant!
ReplyDeleteKeep it up Bro.. *thumbs up*
Mr. Varma, thanks for reading my work so closely. I must say you have an eye for detail and hence I will say.
DeleteAn eye for an eye changes the world !!
A really good matter.. very well written ...
ReplyDeleteYogesh K
Thanks Yogesh :)
Delete