#AtoZChallenge – Flash fiction based on life’s philosophy or mood or emotions, interpreted using colours.
His heart began an erratic pounding as he entered his street and saw an upturned vehicle burning and one severed leg encased in torn jeans and shoe. A kid was wailing at a distance, a desperate cry for help. Heart in his mouth, sweating, he raced home amidst groaning voices, blood and gore.
The door of his house had come unhinged and the panel swung inside anchored to one single hinge. His tiffin box strap slid from his shoulder and it thudded on the floor, unnoticed. The world swam before his eyes when he saw his wife lying on the floor at an awkward angle, her eyes unblinking focused at the roof. Her swollen belly seemed like a ball sitting on her stomach. His legs gave way, but he had to check someone else. Hundreds of bees buzzed in his head. The nightmare continued as he saw his mother half out and half inside the kitchen. His hand on his ears, he let out a silent scream and fell down.
The shock and grief slowly gave way to anger. He pushed himself up and saw the devastation, the disrespect, someone had stepped on the rivulets of blood spilled and had raped his life. The small TV and the only chair were smashed. The utensils and the boxes lay on the floor broken, damaged, telling a story. The knife under the upturned vegetable basket beckoned him, chanting a silent plea.
Murder in his eyes and the knife in the hand, he smashed the door of a family, he knew belonged to the other religion. Mad and wrathful, he searched for someone who could stop the volcano erupting inside. He spotted them cowering under the bed, two children, a boy and a girl. He dragged them out unmindful of their cries and pathetic attempt to resist. A woman fell on his feet, pleading, begging for their lives.
He lifted the knife and saw his mother drenched in blood clutching his leg, crying for mercy. He staggered a step back at the sight, he looked at the kids, his wife, looking like an angel in white, stood behind them with tears in her eyes, saying, ‘I want these children to live, unlike mine. It has to stop somewhere.’
The knife fell from his hand and he crumbled on the floor crying.
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