By Rajashri Das
twenty minutes has passed and the sounds has stopped,
the cursings came to an end, screams were silenced and
the vulgarities totally shut. i hear nothing, but quietness;
absolute absence of noise or bustle.
an uninvited ghost of tranquil has surfaced and manifested
itself in rapid conclusion.

assembling all of my courage , which in fact was very little,
i unlocked the door with hesitant hands and a terrified
mind. i went in, didn't really need to look around for
anything at all because the first thing i saw was my
mother. i didn't exactly see her but i stepped upon her, i
stepped on her wrist as she was there lying on the ground
with no movements, none at all. her eyes were shut,
shades of tears clearly visible, hair scattered in dirty
shambles, clothes disheveled and greatly ripped, hands
ornamented in linear scrapes and scratches. blood oozed
out from her wrists trickling down her fingers as though her
carpus had been painted in a shade of vermilion red, the
kind of red which isn't soothing to watch or lovable to
admire but instead it's the kind of red that details into
hatred and disgust, the kind of red which humiliates the

there was a knife, not kept there in mere tidiness or for
any cause beneficial to human kind. it was just left there,
pushed over, thrown away now because it has performed
it's function and finished it's intention, i.e., the action of
cutting or scraping something ; miles of skin in the current

" Sam ! where in the world are you? "
I was shoved back into forced actuality as i could see and
hear my mother clamouring a yell, accompanied with
confused glances directed towards my way. I gazed
around scanning and inspecting my surroundings resulting
into a shocked realization that i am certainly seated inside
my room, with no evidence of blood or any indication of a
knife either. But rather a single and unusual book was
within my grasp, a fixed page clasped between the wads
of my thumb. I slammed the book shut concluding with a
second realization : i absolutely and undeniably escaped
into a dreamscape, dissipated amidst the lines, respired
within the syllables and penetrated into a frantic fantasy of
a narrative called the 'lifeblood'.
Oldest Most Voted
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
Dikshita Rajbongshi
Dikshita Rajbongshi
6 months ago

The way you describe everything…. I saw things that I never wanna see again

Reply to  Dikshita Rajbongshi
6 months ago

i’ll take that as a compliment.