Tag: Purpose

the dead corpse (3/4)

It wasn’t the same without my thick-skinned friend, with neither left to challenge nor to trick. Living in an abyss of utter predictability or with a ‘tick-tock’ in a loopy minute made me visit his neighborhood. I wonder that if anyone would remember his face or his ugly grin at the end of every question.

I walked past through the narrow streets and it took me an hour to reach their apartment. The street looks more like an orphanage as almost every window is preoccupied with a kid or an adult, waiting for someone. My friend used to say that the stranger gets at least a ten-people stare. I counted and the results began to surpass,

“What the hell…” The Orphan came towards me.

“Jesus, where have you been for a month?” I asked him.

“In my house, duh..”

“What happened to your nose?”

“A little scar from an accident…”

“Is that accident involve someone with a heavy arm…” I used his words and his trademark grin.

“It’s serious. Get out of here….”  He insisted.

“What is going on?”

“Get out…”

“Seems like I have got a choice…”

“Don’t kid around. They will be coming any minute.”

“It is a good start. Will ‘they’ tell me anything ?”

It pissed him off and fell while trying to push me… A white paper with a name ‘Gohjer Thompson’ slipped from his pockets.

“Gohr…”

He took his paper from my hands and began to leave,

“So, what’s my grandfather is doing in your pockets, huh?”

His eyes lit with a spark of fear and with a certain knowledge,

“What? You’re no Thompson…”

“But my grandfather is. Well, my father has chosen a different surname yet…”

“Then you’ve just walked into a real trouble, boy.” said a voice over my shoulder.

 

-cont’d

Thank you for reading…

 

 

the dead corpse (2/4)

The threshold of excitement let me walk at the strangest hour beside the people who have said to be dead, a long time ago. I used to read a lot of comics or the adventures book yet the true part of miracles never seem to happen.

This morning while I was having a conversation with my friend, he doubted that I had broken the governor’s bone in the graveyard.

“I didn’t break…”

“Come on, someone broke it last night and I doubt you for…”

My thoughts went on and regretted not being a part of such sensation. The night gave a chance to cross the last mile. I went to the graveyard and began to hear the whispers of three gravediggers,

“What do you think of that Old man…?” Said a short one.

“What Old man…?” Said a bald man with a mustache.

“Jesus…The one we are looking for. What else am I supposed to talk…?” replied the short one. The third one kept his calm and kept digging a grave.

“I don’t know. Maybe the guy who loves to drink a lot.”

“Ey. I agree to that.” The short man stopped and, “No madman would want to bury thousands of rum under his ass…”

“How would that rum taste like?” asked the other.

“The liquid diamond, I would say.” continued the other man. “I hear that a ten-year-old rum worth thousands…”

“Shut you lazy mouths, for god’s sake. We would’ve got that madman ass if not for your whinings.” The third man finally yelled and the others got back to digging.

I waited to listen for more information or at least, to finish their digging.

“The gods are not in our favor, brother. This is not my first work yet the cruelest one to speak of.” the short one kicked on an empty tombstone, “We’ve been working for over a month and look what we’ve got.”

“There are a lot of Thompsons here, man. We could’ve…” said the other one.

“These are the heirs of the True Thompsons. So, let us go for an another.” The third one ordered.

“I am done, guys.” The short one finally lost his patience,” I don’t like to be any part of this deal. It was fun to create a dead governor and the implanted fear that brought us some time. Don’t you see that the longer we go the hopeless it was.”

“Take a look around, Sam.” said the third one, “Many people are dead unsatisfied or not knowing about their purpose. You have a shovel and yet, you argue with God about hope. You are the dead living, aren’t you?”

It wasn’t so dramatic as I’ve expected and as such the short man left the graveyard.

As I was about to leave, cold pair of hands anchored on my shoulders,

“We don’t like visitors, you see…” said the third one.

 

-Cont’d

-Thank you for reading…