Another face in the opaque crowd searching for some translucence to diffuse and project his myriad thoughts through this utterly abhorrent state of lame rigidity.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

The Hunt

Gulp! Bang! Crash! Thud!

– silence –

Tick Tock! Drip Drop! Knock Knock!

– silence –

Creak! Whoosh!

His eyes were blinded by the Cimmerian hue. The deviant waves of the delirious Black Sea, forced their way through his nostrils and lips; the water mixed with filth and vitriol. Maybe, on the other side his eyes would be blinded by the luminosity, of lucrative possibilities of raw reflections that boast of their ephemeral existences in the delusory dimensions. The fluid soiled his torn clothes, fouled his breath, burned his throat, and moistened and charred his lips at the same time. Was THAT water? The acrid taste sprinted through his tongue to summon the participation of his senses that could send signals to his brain inferring the nature of the liquid. It was Urine.

“O’ sense of gustation. Liberate me.”


With not much ease he managed to stand up. His fatigued legs shivered. He started walking. He reached a cavern. He could not verify his presence in a cavern visually, though. He dragged his naked feet over the rocks. He felt someone’s breath on his neck. He shivered. Then he felt someone touch his hand. For a fraction of a second he was petrified, which probably lent some in(ane)-coherence to him to establish a camouflage with the stones around him; but it was overruled by his urge to run. He ran. He felt something sharp brush against his feet. He felt his warm blood gushing out of the wound. He stopped. He felt someone licking the blood off his leg. Scared, he started running again.

“O’ sense of tactition. Liberate me.”


Probably, he entered a hallway. The sounds of air resistance reached his ears. He turned back and forth to improve the reception of the sounds and then abruptly, with a frivolous intervention of an occult entity he was rendered immobile. But his fortification of quiescence was swiftly revoked by a harsh noise. A multitude of pins raced downwards, released from an unknown height. They hit some hypothetical metal obstacle in mid-air to produce simultaneous inseparable clinks. From there the pins came together and transmogrified into a sheet of glass and resumed their journey downwards to hit the glass floor and shatter into pieces to produce another host of clinks. He paused. He resumed walking.

“O’ sense of audition. Liberate me.”


He reached a room, probably. The smell of weathered wood hit his nose. The portentous wooden floor beneath him was not showing much promise. He walked carefully. The nauseating smell of his own sweat, blood and saliva was making him weak. He was on the verge of vomiting, when he was miraculously rescued by an overbearing smell of wet soil which shunned the stench away. And then the realisation dawned upon him that he was not walking on wood anymore; it was earth beneath his feet. An angelic fragrance met him. The fragrance came to him floating in the air, presenting herself be his mistress. She executed a quick exhibition of her skills of captivation. He followed her with carefree conviction, as she danced gleefully in the air and showed him the way.

“O’ sense of olfaction. Liberate me.”


There was no transition or translation. Suddenly, he was greeted by blinding lights. The incessant and exuberant radiance of the place purged every drop of exhaustion from his body and killed every bit of the decadent darkness that had seeped into his existence. After a while, when the light ceased being harsh and started being soft, he realised where he was. Giant plants bearing gigantic flowers towered over him. The flowers were beautiful. They spread an empyrean aura of unhindered prosperity that delicately disfigured the inharmonious elements born out of the excrements of the excruciating interferences of apparently realistic iniquity. His hunt for the utopian garden was over. He believed his eyes. He was in heaven.

“O’ sense of vision. Liberate me.”



Flesh and bones lay scattered on the ground. The plants(flowers) had shared their treat. It was eons ago, when a human had wandered into their territory, conceiving an outrageous notion of exploration, fuelled by dystopian imageries of a transcendent utopia.
He was just the second one. There are more to come.



Whoosh! Creak!

– silence –

Knock Knock! Drip Drop! Tick Tock!

– silence –

Thud! Crash! Bang! Gulp!

The third one begins his journey.
But he possesses an extra sense.