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The Indigenius' Den by Ankit Kumar is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 India License.
Based on a work at www.theindigeniusden.blogspot.com.

Thursday, July 29, 2021

Parched


It hadn't rained in a long time. The broken path was dusty - brown like powered clay - just not as fine. It was coarse and unforgiving. His footwear was battered and tried to cover an even more battered foot. The right big toe was red and swollen - septic. It slit in two places in long gashes from where the blood silently oozed out, mixed with the dry dust his feet kicked up as he dragged his emaciated silhouette of a body which was barely hoisted upright.

The landscape was barren, arid and forlorn. The once fertile land looked adust, baked in harsh daylight with a network of crevices running wild far and wide like veins on a leaf. But there was no green in sight - only brown and yellow and shades in between for as far as the eye could see. No soul in sight - many had given up - died with mouths agape lusting for water, some were hiding in anxious shadows of rocks while a select few were hoarding as much as they could for tomorrow.

As he dragged on to a pointless, possibly non-existent destination, his chafed lips ached, his tongue begged for moisture. The dry heat made his brain beat against his skull - a loud throbbing that forced his eyes to roll in their sockets. Just then he saw it! A brown and yellow insect, with a glistening exoskeleton reflecting the sun's rays, had emerged from a crevice (lost its way maybe) and was looking to duck back into the depths of darkness away from the scorching sun. Without a thought, he dived with a vigour especially bred in famishment. His fingers like pincers with uncanny precision, jubilantly extricated the struggling insect as he opened his mouth wide. CRUNCH! CRUNCH! And a munch and a few more laboured crunches - his being revolted with the foul taste - abhorrent! Like nuts that had gone really bad. He waited for the poison to kill him. Better luck next time. This one was all good protein.

He had lost track of days long ago. The sun's strength told him that it was a bit past noon which meant another five hours of day. He kept going. Finally he saw with hopeful eyes - faraway, almost at the horizon, some structures - perhaps temp settlements? It was probably the remains of an industrial town. Metal skeletons of mills decaying at myriad places - corroding, weather-beaten but brave - receding visages of Man's might and testimony to his able inventive spirit. With renewed vigour, he quickened his pace - a destination at long last, his heart was pumping blood faster than it had done in days. Soon enough he had covered most of the ground. Almost there... almost! 

And then... It all happened in quick succession. A few clouds appeared out of nowhere, eclipsed the sun a bit relieving him of the direct exposure. He tried to look up but his neck denied the unusual movement. A tantalizing thunderclap ensued and the sky poured rain in big droplets. A pungent odour engulfed him and the raindrops hit his face and hands and it stung! It singed him like concentrated acid! Gasping, he bolted to the closest shelter in the run-down town he could find, running on heels as his toe was a goner.

He examined the new burns on his dark brown, wrinkly skin. His skin appeared so thin, stretched so taut over his bones that he feared it could tear like paper. The shelter had a small mirror hanging on a nail in a wooden pole. He went closer to examine the state of his face and, to his horror, saw that he almost looked like the cross between a gorilla and the first cavemen he had seen in history books - dark hairy face, extra large upper lip, exposed nostrils, black eyes! His heart started beating out of its place, he clutched at his chest unable to believe his state as he heard a piercing sound inside his head. 

A mad ringing awoke John. With a massive yelp, he sat up. He frantically patted his face, chest and legs, checking for burns and wounds. He was in his bed, fine white linen enveloped his fit body. Slowly it came back to him. Today was his keynote address in the seminar on post-apocalyptic literature. He had to get ready. All was well even though the dream had felt so real!

With a wry smile, he put on his glasses but they slid down from his face owing to a missing nose bridge. That had never happened before.

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