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Short Stories


The clock strikes 2 and gives a beep. It’s late and he’s still awake, staring at the wall which seems blue as if breathlessly laughing at him. He feels pain in him but he’s fine. Something inside him won’t let him sleep. It seems as if two controlling forces are in a confrontation inside of him. One of which appears resilient, dark, demonic and horrifying while the other however bright and weak yet progressive. He is wedged in a war zone over something he may had no concern with. He wants to get over it and rest but he’s tired. He lost something precious, something valuable, something he loved the most, his passion, his purpose. But it died in vain. Taking all of his incentive, contentment, self-esteem and most importantly his hope that he had from God, with it into its grave, dug deeper and deeper inside the Earth. Deeper enough so it could never revive again. The dark force within him explaining to him the severe actuality that he had faced, the lies he was told, the useless struggle he made. He failed to prove himself a son who, if not always, at least once could have set smiles of glee on the faces of his parents. He had hopes from God shattered into tiny pieces scattered all over the floor. “It’s not once”, the dark force inside him made him realize. “It’s been two decades of patience, years of brawl and perhaps hopes of many” the dark force called again. “God lied to you, after all you failed, you’re just a useless piece of meat after all” the dark force called out for one last time after it vanished in him leaving the room darker than ever. He felt as if he had been revealed with the facts. He began to feel heavy, dark and gloomy. But something inside him calls his name. It sounds weak and tired but something that just won’t give up. “Life was never meant to be all sunshine and rainbows” the weak force screamed out. “You faced situations tough and painful like no one else, perhaps that’s why I’m still alive in you” The weaker force now feeling more confident. “I may be weak, I maybe ripped apart, torn to bits, tortured to shreds, scared as hell but I’m never going to give up” the weaker force screaming aloud. “I’m stronger than everyone because slowly or steadily I’ll be beaten violently to my knees, probably a hundred times but I’ll answer with one and I believe whether it be one or a half, the dark force will give up sooner” the weaker force called again. “It’s you who LET one live or die” was the final call after which there was silence and a wave of horror across the room. He wanted to burst into tears and share his pain with anyone but he had been stronger than a rock and it’s embarrassing now for him to cry. He was raised up into someone strong as a forceful river, fearful as a roaring, blazing fire and mysterious as a black hole. But his “himself” had broken into a million pieces after he failed. The clock strikes 3 and gives a beep. He looks out of the window, it is quiet and peaceful yet he feels insomniac. His nightmares await him. As always taking him to an unknown land where he’d be walking and walking without a destination. He wants to sleep, live in his fantasies and never wake up again.

3 thoughts on “Dilemma

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