Standing by the window sill, she watches the clouds pour their agony. She hears a call for help in the thunders. While many are mesmerized by the rainy scene of this small hillside village, it brought horrific scenes to her. As she tries to close her ears to the thunderous sounds, she found her hand moist. The rain drops became more earth shattering as she stood there crying over her helplessness. The more she tried to shut these sounds the more they haunted her.
She finally moved to her writing table to let her pent up emotions flow without restrictions. Her diary was probably the only companion left with her, in its embrace she found solace. Her words came gushing as she picked up the pen, ink flowing to give shape to her thoughts. Then all of a sudden she breaks the nib of the pen and with a thud her head came crashing to the table.
Also read : Our Foggy Dreams
After lying like a corpse for hours, she suddenly comes to life. The sheet of paper wet with her tears, ink smudged on places. She walks off looking pale as if blood had been sucked out of her. Yet again she had written the death sentence of an innocent. Yet again she is feeling helpless. Her visions of future were haunting her day and night, no cure found till now. Miles apart someone will die, she knows but who, where, how were the questions still unknown. Maybe living your dreams was not such a nice thing, just maybe!
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