Thesocratespot: Thesocratespot: The Art of Story telling - Part 7 - Genghiz Khan and Borges II_ The Hamlet of the Dark Horses

Phantom froze . 

he immediately activated his de javu sense and somehow felt a sense of familiarity , he knew and it slowly dawned on him that he had seen this hamlet in his hypnotised state, it was known as the hanlet of the Dark horses, his recollection of the hamlet of the dark horses came from a distant memory that he had somehow managed to 'park' in a remote part of his memory while battling the hypnotic manipulations of Mandrake  during one of those crazy sessions when Mandrake had him under his control - he would say " Now ! Phantom ! Now ! You're at the entrance of the great labyrinth, the labyrinth of the Dark Horse ! hahahaha.. 

Phantom hated that laugh but often had to bear with it , it was such an archaic way of laughing but then this magician in front of him was himself a relic of the past who had somehow beaten certan timelines and milestones and managed to jump past the holy touchstone and stay awake past the apocalypse - one of the very, very few ( he sometimes did acknowledge that Mandrake was after all an incredible survivor and one had to say man ' gotta give it to him' !! ) . 

Just when he was almost pulled deeper and deeper into his dejavu sense, came a jolt - this time from his pony Maradona ( she really looked like that pop star .. like that 'like a virgin' singer ), She was about to neigh again but he held onto her nose tight and whispered 'No' and she immediately sensed something was amiss - that was when Phantom and the pony realised they were being pushed by the dark horses onto an elevator that went up the stairway to heaven and Phantom realised he had to do whatever possible to get away ( even if it meant that he had to sacrifice Maradona ! ) no matter what, he had to jump away bcoz his dejavu sense alerted him, the stairway to heaven did not lead to any heaven , it was in fact a STAIRWAY to HELL !! 

Dante be damned ! The ultra psychedelic Purgatory was the first milestone to pass and no one ever came back sane from that place !! 

As Phantom frantically tried to look for a way out, the dark horses increased their intensity, pulled and accelarated the elevator they were harnessed to, harder and faster - that's when Phantom saw another shadow emerge, it was none other than ... that's when he lost his vision .... the last he knew was sounds of Georgio Moroder and Vincent Price practicing with Michael Jackson ... that's when he knew he had reached the PURGATORY !!! 

Or Was he ? Where the Hell was he from ? And Where was he going ? 

Again the laugh ... Gosh !    

     

Thesocratespot: Thesocratespot: The Art of Story telling - Part 7 - Genghiz Khan and Borges

Phantom was wearing designer hoofs for his shoes even if he was racing a Mongolian pony, She looked pretty agile and strong for a pony but somehow was giving out the expression that she wasn't really enjoying her masters company; but then the slave that she knew she was the poor pony was more or less forced to show enthusiasm and energy lest her master abandon her in the middle of nowhere ( he did feed her well, in fact very well ) .  

Phantom was chasing Mandrake, who was ahead. They were both contestants in a Wild Goose Chase contest that required to race across Mongolia and the reward ? 

Mastery over the other - if Phantom won then Mandrake would submit but if Phantom lost then Mandrake of course would be the Lord - so it was all or nothing kind of race. 

So today this chapter is responsible to report only about the Phantom's journey. Phantom like all Phantoms was a nocturnal creature, come the moon then they would suddenly loose all focus and change direction from their determined objective and wander into those night time labyrinths, vague geographic ruled by those very, very dark horses - horses with horns ! 

Phantoms pony suddenly came to a screeching halt and as was commanded she let out her usual neigh to wake up the dark horses - who were by then digging deep into their own nocturnal dreams - Phantom scanned the scene in front, it was a dark night and he was in the middle of a small hamlet that had several cross roads winding up, down and across and beyond, nothing made sense until he noticed that the hamlet also had a stairway to heaven !! 

Hahaha ... Stairway to heaven ? Can you believe that ??? hahaha Stairway to Heaven damn it !!! hahahaha... 

         

Thesocratespot: Thesocratespot: The Art of Story telling - Part 7 - The amphiturnals

You know them
you see them in the day
and
think they are normal
day light creatures
like us

But come the night
they are still around
Equally comfortable
Very 

In fact
much more active and playful
in the night
as much in the day

But we have been told
Night is not like day

Night can kill

Day is too benign    

thesocratespot: Thesocratespot: The Art of Story telling - Part 6....

thesocratespot: Thesocratespot: The Art of Story telling - Part 6....: Thesocratespot: The Art of Story telling - Part 6.0078_Annie's Take  Listen I was never on ! On all these kind of cavalier things! As...

Thesocratespot: The Art of Story telling - Part 6.0078_Annie's Take

Thesocratespot: The Art of Story telling - Part 6.0078_Annie's Take 

Listen I was never on ! On all these kind of cavalier things! As Annie, I was that very shy, introverted kind.

But maybe somewhere deep inside me that very introverted behaviour was in some way an attribute of a rebel ! Source of some deep inferiority complex that kind of embedded its weight on to me, so strongly that for a long, long time I was afraid of my own voice & laugh ! In fact when we were in school my class mates treated me like I was some kind of a very fragile, very brittle, very weak and meek material.

But that was until my VII Standard.

Post my VII grade ( Indian IPSC Syllabus), i was slowly forced to participate in activities that was not really my forte, I was always happy being left alone, always happy doing my own own private thing, even that was not much at the of 14.

At home, I preferred helping out my mother with the house hold chores - washing clothes, cleaning vessels, sweeping & mopping etc.,

In school I was happy sitting in a position that was always away from a possible observation of my teachers, basically I was happy being treated as numb - very less communicado, very less socialodo too !

My free time was spent secretly admiring the more extroverted girls and the exhuberant boys, I could feel that there was a string feeling within me that said c'mon you too can be like them, you too can open up, exhale and be like them! Somehow the feeling kept lingering within me and I kept reconciling to myself that I did not have the physique or the looks or the ability to converse to mtch the girls I admired.   

Then I went into my VIII grade.

Suddenly sex became prolific ! Incidents of low density sexual contacts kept happening inadvertently, unplanned and almost accidental and somehow it did not really matter, among some select peers that was like fun to know the boys and then tease the boys, watch them suffer when they became desperate - esp. when we could see their hardened bulge, that's when we learnt we could extract anything from them - of course, that was frought with its own risks there were times when it would go out of hand, one of the boys getting teased would go violent and abuse us, beat us etc.,

Sometimes under threat we used to help them jack off, and under more threatening conditions we used to cry and sob and make a reasonably big emotional scene when the boys demanded we give them that mouth job, we used to make faces so ugly that many a boy used to simply vanish feeling ashamed to have exposed himself fully but there a few other boys who would want us to respect their expoure.

As girls, the choice was always ours - we almost always made the boys exposing that big side of their sexuality as boys who were perverted, sick in the mind and many a times deserving to be openly condemned in front of other boys and girls! That was real fun ! Especially when we found that the boys soon got so confused between what's right sexual approach and the not so right !!

Wow ! We girls used to exploit that confusion so much !! Many a times it was hilarious !! Watching some 'he man' boys become almost 'she men' filled with shame and remorse! Wow ! That was fun ! 

But, that's exactly why we also used to encourage more than one boy to come close to us, just that when out of two one turns a rogue we could use that as an instance to provoke one boy against the other and if we found both turned out to be too friendly there was always a third who was ready to prove his chivalry!     

Among the girls such teasing and holding them out until they lost control was crazy fun and was the source of all our bathroom gossip.

 Annie came of age and became an extrovert at the age of 13 and by 14 it was a metamorphosis of the sort that changed the way she viewed life totally and so by the time she moved to her sophomore years, say when she was in her second year of under graduation she was way ahead in the game !

And yet had managed to find a terrific balance of staying relevant with the boys and yet also continue to excel in her academic pursuits - yes, Annie knew she had two sides to her personality.   

Among the reasons why she soon moved to complete her Masters and then at a very young age was ready to be conferred a doctorate in Western Philosophy, World History, Alternative Literature and Linguistics.           

thesocratespot: Thesocratespot: The Art of Story telling - Part 6.0077_Who's _Who_And The Plot

Thesocratespot: The Art of Story telling - Part 6.0077_Who's _Who_And the Plot  


Listen, we are basically artists, graduates of fine art who are naturally drawn to all of forms of art , including performing arts.

Phantom was a choreographer, story board artist and a comic cartoon animator working for a Mumbai based content production company but his fascination towards Hindu spirituality was deep and over a period of time that soon became his alter ego. 

Tarzan too was into Story boarding but was a contractual comic story board artist under temporary contract with an animation company that was contracted by the estate of Edgar Rice Burroughs, the makers of Tarzan. 

Phantom, whose actual name was Stanley, was from a very poor lower middle class background, his Father was some kind of a junior level Officer in the Indian Railways. Right from his childhood his interest was into arts and drawing and performing arts but his Father, Mother and almost all his struggling Christian kin in the church suggested that he take up Engineering, he did try and miserably failed, for years he was stuck trying to get himself that elusive Engineering degree but it remained stoically out of his reach, and as the years went by his family started ridiculing him for his failures - it was virtually a free for all, everyone and anyone would walk up to Stanley and chide him for being a loser and this included quite a few young nieces whom he liked and desired, stanley's hurt was much more when his nieces came and chided him and that one day became so hard to insulate that Stanley became a run away kid at the age of 16 and reached Mumbai.   

Once he reached Mumbai he somehow managed to get himslef a job with a production company where he was initally just a runner boy but soon graduated to being a story board artist and a choreographer - it is here that he came across a number of Tamil & Malayalam speaking Brahmin and Namboodiri boys & girls who were from extremely aristocratic families, very well read and educated and they were all from his native state and that's when Stanley slowly transformed himself into being a Hindu Guru - he took to reading the Vedas and the Upanishads, learnt Hindu rituals and practices and over a period of time people forgot he was actually a Christian and started taking his alter ego as a hindu preacher seriously.

By the age of 19 Stanley took up a pseudonym as Vasudevan Iyer ( which later became Jesudasan) and soon started travelling to places in South India as a preacher of Hindu culture and Hindu wisdom - which in turn opened doors that were once forbidden for him due to his image as a loser, his alter ego as a Hindu Guru put him in a league so high, it soon became heady and full of pleasures that he had never experienced.         

Annie, was a brat, born with a silver spoon, daughter of a Zamindar Grandfather who doted on her and a Father who was a Professor of Literature, Contemporary World Poetry, World History and Philosophy teaching at the Prestigious Central University of Hyderabad - she was the last of the children born in the family ( her mother was 48 when she delivered Annie ) - Annie had 11 sibblings, 4 brothers, 5 Sisters; And over 15 nieces and nephews famed for being complete iconoclasts, despite being born in a very conservative family.

Annie's family were brahmins who later adopted Christianity - Annie's family were vegetarians and so only very rarely indulged eating meat.

Among the reasons why Annie could get along with her Brahmin boy friends, they were all from the same village, they had grown up as one since childhood.

Tarzan, was born with an inferiority complex, while he was good at a number of things he was poor at math, poor at physics and the sciences - his interest was always being outdoors, climbing, jumping, running, participating in school dramas or disrupting serious sessions by clowning.     

All three of our protagonists came from a very ordinary rural back drop before becoming very young, very urban charlatans, but each one were so adept in their art and deception that each wanted to outdo the other with their alter egos - needless to say Stanley was in love with Annie, Annie too liked Stanley but then Tarzan too loved Annie and Annie loved tarzan a little more than Stanley.

Which was perfect - since they were all 19 and all of them loved being cheats. So while Stanley dated Annie, Annie dated Tarzan and all of them were quite comformtable in the knowledge that they were all in it for one common cause - they all wanted a double life.

Soon they had managed to create a reasonably successful secret club of like minded boys and girls who were all committed to live that exciting double life, so they started building a secret society made of brahmin boys and girls living like Christians and Muslims and vice versa, the group virtually had members from every religion & faith wanting to live the life of the other  - and it soon became a highly secret cult with a vast network. 

As the cult grew, the founder members basically Phantom, Tarzan & Annie started taking their alter egos so seriously that it soon started a vicious kind of rivalry that wanted only one alter ego to lead the cult which in turn meant that all three wanted the other dead - Phantom wanted to kill Tarzan through Annie and Tarzan wanted to kill Annie through Phantom and Annie wanted Tarzan to kill Phantom.

Remember all of this was happening among people who were just about in their 20's.


         

thesocratespot: Thesocratespot: The Art of Story telling - Part 6....

thesocratespot: Thesocratespot: The Art of Story telling - Part 6....: Thesocratespot: The Art of Story telling - Part 6.0075 : Faceoff # 1  Phantom was sitting calm, intently directing his gaze onto Tarzan, ...

Thesocratespot: The Art of Story telling - Part 6.0075 : Faceoff # 1

Thesocratespot: The Art of Story telling - Part 6.0075 : Faceoff # 1 

Phantom was sitting calm, intently directing his gaze onto Tarzan, he knew that every minute now was important, he had done this before with several others and they virtually ended up in asylums or a few others had become fodders for his sacrificial rituals where the victims offered to give away some part of their body for a greater cause but with Tarzan, Phantom had a different plan.

Phantom thought he needed Tarzan for a while longer.

Because Phantom thought tarzan could elevate his passion far above the strata that he had managed to achieve so far, besides he was also on the look out for a deputy who could play proxy everytime Phantom wanted slip out of public eye and indulge on some bizarre rituals that he had invented that were so macabre anyone witnessing it would probably die of shock or end up butchered to death sooner or later.

Phantom continued his cold gaze on Tarzan, sitting cross legged like a Buddha and keeping his arms folded across his chest no words were spoken between the two, Tarzan could not stare back as much as he would have liked it he was totally and completely in zombie land he was just not sure where he was the blood under his body was so sticky and it smelt horrific he wanted to scream and rush out and dive deep into the village river to cleanse himself thoroughly but somehow he was just not able make any move except try balance his swinging neck try bringing back eye balls to focus on something get some strength to move his at least one hand of his, he was leaning his shaky torso on one hand while trying to get up and sit cross legged and stare back at Phantom, verytime he attempted to sit up his hand would slip and then a whole new effort to sit upright would start.

Despite his state of absolute nothingness, state of a body moving from zero gravity to a black hole into a dark mass of voracious matter guzzling space pit where he would be the garbage meant to contribute to the recycling process of some higher form of spatial hunger, despite his state of utter darkness he sensed that he still had his girls body lying next to him and somehow felt she was breathing, even if she was bleeding her eyes had already lost all movements her breathing wasn't showing and she nude and limp.       

She was lying with her breast up, her head rolled to the right looking at me, her eyes looking at the sky somewhere, her two hands sprawled like they were nailed, her mouth spewing thick blood thickening and clotting as it flowed out, her shapely legs spread out, her vagina exposed and so was a part of her shapely derriers since she was lying in a sideway position. 

My name's Annie.

I'm here on this stage enacting the role of a vengeful victim - a la Emily.

I hate this universe, hate men, hate the politicians even more, but the one lot that I would love to anhilate with my own hands are all these God men, fucking God men !

They are the one's who exploited me even after my death, they first sacrificed my limb and then made me beg on the streets of a strange town then as my organs grew they used them initially to play act like a Devi they soon realised I was a source of pleasure so they used me like and I was also a raw material for more sacrifice - so then they cut my leg then they cut my other hand then they blinded me later they burnt my face   

I was enacting a girl born among a devadasi family that later on converted to Islam & Christianity we converted from our devadasi religion thinking the change will eventually help us evolve beyond our casteist compulsions but we realised some stigmas remain, despite our proselitysation our life never really changed, we remained devadasi's our kith & kin continued to live as one, we celebrated our festivals, our gods, our culture etc., as usual - just that some changed their names from Bindu to Nalini to Nafisa and some changed from Ram to Tom and others changed from Rani to Annie.

The voice over , that followed the tableau of Phantom sitting and gazing, Tarzan leaning on his one hand, and me Annie lying almost nude with blood around etc., ended with a loud applause, in fact it was a standing ovation from an audinece that was a part of a packed auditorium.

We were enacting a play at the Cochin Biennalle.

As soon as the curtains dropped we all hugged each other and walked out of the macabre stage we had created, to take out our make up and get back to our normal human life.       

Thesocratespot: The art of Story telling - Part 6.0074 : The Rotten_ &_the _Rotting

Thesocratespot: The Art of Story telling - Part 6.0074 : The alchemy of Blood & The Lusty Shamans 

Tarzan the Ape man woke up, he was feeling pretty rotten and exhausted for no reason, the last he knew was he was having a drink with his rival 'Phantom the Ghost Who Walks' after a crazy game of chess and then all he remembered was that he had a dream of being on an errand to murder a girl and then soon ended up making love to the girl whom he was supposed to kill and then eventually eloping with her with a gun in hand. 

Fuck ! The whole thing appeared so weird ! Whacko !! What happened to him in between ? when did he finish his booze session with Phantom ? How did he reach back to his room ? Where did the Gun come from ? And who was that girl ? Was there a cyclonic storm ? 

He was also worried about ... Fuck ! did mom see me walking in ? Was I so completely sozzled that I just don't remember a thing about last night ? was it just last night ? Or did the crook Phantom drug me into doing something ? More than just a day before ? 

How many days ?? he remembered nothing . 

The more Tarzan thought about everything - the dream and the absence of any other sane memory for the last several days, beyond the dream, he had absolutely no idea, no memory of anything that had happened to him in the recent past, nothing ! Almost as if someone had conveniently entered into his brain chamber and selectively chose to erase some records ! - he felt lost, confused and crazy.   

Suddenly Tarzan felt a cold chill crossing his spine - just as he was contemplating things he saw his dick harden, real hard and aching the damn fellow was asking for urgent attention so much that it was diverting his deep contemplative state to a state of pure lust - pushing him to rush to the wash room and masturbate, masturbate he must ! 

Tarzan couldn't help, so instead of rushing to the wash room he just started jacking off while lying on his bed - 

that bed

that ancient bed 

who knows ?

who else had jacked off ?

on this bed ?

before ? 

those brown stains on the sheets and the pillow 

were they stains of masturbation ? of lust and sex ? of past sin ? 

Just as all such thoughts crossed my mind, my mind slowly moved back to my dream and soon that girl returned smiling, she looked exactly the way she looked last night, but I saw her half sleeved blouse was still a bit torn and she still had that gun tucked into her bra.

I gasped and asked , You ? 

She said , Yes ? You thought I was dead ? I'm still alive silly ! 

Now c'mon I'm lusty too, been waiting to get you excited and so saying she started giving me a blow job, slow and soft, confess she had a warm breath that sent hot air around my penis making it harden even further and soon I was gasping and groaning and making noises that only sex and lust can create and she too was not far behind.

In fact her sounds were worrying me , she was being a little too loud ! But, such worries became irrelevant one she threw all her clothes out and decided to ride on top of me so she spread her thighs wide and I could see her clean shaven vagina, her flat belly, her tummy navel and her soft, fluffy breast ( they weren't too large, they looked just right for her age ) and as she made her moves she was smiling that naughty smile of hers which i was beginning to recognise while also throwing a piercing look through my own gaze, waving her eye brows up and down and silently miming out ' are you liking it' without waiting for an answer.

We just pounded like two naked steam engines thrusting against each other - one thrusting up the other pressing down, both were sweating in the humidity that settles after a bout of heavy rain, wow! 

We seemed to go and on ! And in the frenzy and lusty energy unknown to us we both fell off the cot like two live and fleshy stones, she even hit her head on the floor ( i'm sure it would have hurt ) 

Thud! 

But She showed no signs of any pain and we simply continued rolling - i only hoped my Mom wouldn't hear our rompous sounds, also hoped the people on the streets wouldn't over hear our lusty shouts ( since my attic room was facing the street ) and so I tried everything possible to muffle out the sounds - I held her mouth everytime she was about to scream, stifling it to the extent possible, I also clamped my own lips inwardly to shut out my sounds, but once we both reached our climax we almost woke the whole village up ! 

Is what I thought but then Thankfully it just seemed that we both held out our hands - one holding the others mouth shut - and managed to pass that electric moment of orgasmic voltage without much decibel attention. 

And at that final moment, when everything turns dark and one just sees that silver light flashing Tarzan was breathing like he had just finished the Boston marathon, fighting for breath, eyes closed tight, he felt that someone was washing his whole body with some white liquid like a kerala massage oil flowing from your head to your toe he felt this strange liquid flowing through his skin warm and soft and like a lubricant made of soft fruits like palm fruit.                     

It was a while before he regained consciousness , he looked around and slowly checked the light around , felt like it was afterrnoon but since his room was so tightly closed to all sorts of light he could only see some element of sunlight from the cracks of his windows and tiles above.  

Somewhere he could hear a loud bike speeding and soon there were a number of other sounds like automobile horns and hawkers and cycle ricksaw bells and such other sounds that one can only hear in a crowded Indian bazaar - now wait a minute, where the fuck am i ?  

And just when he was about to shake himself out of his revelrie he felt someone was watching him, Tarzan froze for a moment - was the warm fluid that he had felt when he was experiencing his orgasm by any chance the blood flowing from a dead corpse ? 

From the body of the girl he had killed ? 

Did he indulge in necromania ? did he actually have sex with a girl who he had murdered ?  

DID I KILL THAT GIRL ?? 

Was he hearing sirens ??? 

Just as Tarzan raised his head to familiarise himself further about his situation, he saw Phantom watching him from the deep corner of the room, he was masked, had his hands folded and was sitting what looked like a meditative pose - except for the fact that his gaze was fixed on me.   

In that dark room, his masked gaze resembled a black cat watching a victim rat squirm after it was more or less shred apart physically and mentally.  

                                      

           

    

     

thesocratespot: Thesocratespot: The art of Story telling - Part 6....

thesocratespot: Thesocratespot: The art of Story telling - Part 6....: Thesocratespot: The art of Story telling - Part 6.0073 : The Reptile_ Elopes With The Frog As I pushed the trigger hard, the wetness of h...

Thesocratespot: The art of Story telling - Part 6.0073 : The Reptile_ Elopes With The Frog

Thesocratespot: The art of Story telling - Part 6.0073 : The Reptile_ Elopes With The Frog

As I pushed the trigger hard, the wetness of her lips and her passion shook me up and soon the weather simply decided to shake the earth out, it went cyclonic with wind speeds hitting scales nearing a hurricane, the bushes that was my hiding zone was now thrown apart and I stood exposed, so was she, as the plants and trees and the nature around swung like they were on a crazy, insane 'El Toro' roller coaster, while the frogs were swung far like dead meat

We were making frenzied love

I was like this small ape

All nude
with my shirt swung out
my south indian sarong stuck to the bushes   

And she was like that Girl from the film Godzilla
albeit not just watching Godzilla in awe
from the base of Godzilla's palms

She was lost in passion
making frenzied love
her blouse torn apart
with her firm breasts exposed
her half shawl ironically was stuck to the same bush as my sarong 

we were rolling on wet mud with nature unleashed

Thunder, lightning, cyclone et al

we were lost

Lust took over and just wouldn't let go

And then

We eloped

I knew She was already wedded

I knew she had a child waiting

She knew too

But it was She who pulled me by the hand

Grabbed the gun

Shoved it into her blouse

And just pulled me along

even as the winds raged, rains lashed

Skies thundered

Galaxies & Stars were blanked out

I could only hear just two words, Echoing

One from each side of my head

Sublimation !

Existential escape !

Which side are you on ?

I said sublimation

Mr. Twist said

Existential Rat

I reminded him

I was Tarzan of the apes

He swore

Phantom will strike - after all he was the Ghost who walked !



         

thesocratespot: thesocratespot: The art of Story telling - Part 6....

thesocratespot: thesocratespot: The art of Story telling - Part 6....: Thesocratespot: The Art of Story telling - Part 6.0072 : Beasts_Kafkaism & Realism It was twilight but it was already looking like i...

thesocratespot: The art of Story telling - Part 6.0072 : Beasts_Kafkaism & Realism

Thesocratespot: The Art of Story telling - Part 6.0072 : Beasts_Kafkaism & Realism


It was twilight but it was already looking like it was pretty late in the night, I was hiding behind this real thick set of bushes a little away from my village house, the earth was wet due to rain and the tropical frogs within the bushes were croaking in full throttle but despite the full house orchestra of the tropical frogs, I could hear my heart pounding dab dab dab, dab dab, dab dab, soaked in sweat, dizzy to the point of fainting out and yet alert and waiting - she would come this way, everyday.

I had all my weapons ready

A letter explaining our love story

A country made pistol

with two bullets

The sky above was a collage of dark navy blue filled by intimidating sparkles from distant galaxies and stars, they were so intimading, I took out one of my fathers dark shades that he used during his cataract to distract me from such intimidation- were they watching me ? they were and I did not like it.

I would have preferred the zero hour
No reality
No Earth
Nothing

I knew I was there somewhere around the pre historic palakkad gap, way below the tropic of Cancer and way above Capricorn, these bushes hiding me were hideuos trees once upon a time, they were dwarfed & subdued by the fury of nature, these croaking frogs were giant salamanders then, some of them were capable of simply sticking their tongoue out and pull a human of my size like I was just a fly or a mosquito, that thought wasn't very comforting, geographically my lat long was sub tropical, emotionally I was this Indian pawn with semi murderous intent, driven by someone I hated there was that part of my mind which said get out, this is not your game

this is not your game
you frog

No

I'm not a Frog

Then you are a Rat

No

Nor am i rat

Of Course

Then you are

Just a pawn... hahaha

a pawn , a pawn ... 

I have Captured more pawns than you could during the deluge
you are now my slave
my male concubine

you will do my bid

That was Twist , pushing me hard

Bloody Jerk was Bi Sexual too

a humungously loud sound of thunder backed by a hedonistically nuclear like lightining strike pulled me back my real state, here I was among the bushes, heart fucking pounding like it was a part of a DJ's party console - woofer and all - my head was screaming with amphibian messages one part said

Get out

Get out

While the other said

You are here to kill

Just do it

That's when I noticed

She was walking down

Umbrella in hand ( not opened )

Divine in her looks

She was bidding goodbye to her friends

Her smile pushed my heart rate further up

She was holding a mobile

Checking some messages

That glow

transformed her face to an ethereal world

Divine

And then She paused

And looked towards the bush

Almost as if she knew

She even smiled

pressed the push button of her umbrella and opened it

And then she walked towards the bush

With that divine smile

I could see

even while the images of a drowning woman and a beheaded female mannequin kept flashing

She still had her sandalwood mark on the forehead, a small red bindi, an equally small vibhuti above all, hanging ear rings, braided hair on both sides that swing as she shook off rain water from her head, a cotton blouse of light blue, a cream shawl worn across and a skirt right down to her ankle and a neat cream coloured high heeled leather flip flop that put her 5'2" frame to look even more classy

She was

Class

But alas

She has to die 
  
the frenzy of the emotion at that exact point of time was more like equatorial desert heat.

As she walked towards me, past the bushes smiling and calling out for me , I clicked the gun again waited for her to reach me close as she hugged me and was about to plant a kiss on my lips, I put the gun on her head and clicked the trigger hard