"The food must have been nasty", he thought with disdain. His friend, Rajib's wedding ceremony has been a disaster from the very start and he couldn't find a good enough reason to maintain contact with him. It's not befitting for a progressive and important person like him to be seen with that lowly man.
His stomach churned once again, he stopped stirring the saline water and sat down. 'It's just getting worse,' he realized. Clutching his stomach as tight as he could, he made his way towards the bedroom. One, two, three.. just one more step. But the room wasn't still at all. The door, became distorted, and it moved out of reach. In fact, the whole room was moving.
" He realized he was lying on the floor of his familiar apartment but his vision was in and out of focus like a broken stereo. Then, all at once, everything became clear. He was aware of his breathing, heart ramming crazily against his chest, ticking of the clock and most prominent of all, the smell of stool.
:Hold him down", the booming voice echoed from a distance. He tried to get up but found a heavy, monstrous hand on his chest. As his eyes travelled upto see who it was, he realized something is not right. Before him, was the most groesque face he has ever seen. It was barely humanoid. Stories of panic and pain was permanently carved on it and he could read every one of them.
A blinding flash of pure darkness and they weren't alone. Flanked by hounds and more of humanoid creatures, appeared a shrouded figure. His face was hooded but it radiated death.
***
He gazed lazily at the man in front of him. He tried to gather some sympathy for the soul that was trying to sink into the stinky shell but anger was all he could feel. Pure anger, raw and undiluted. It was time to unleash that anger and cuff his miserable prisoner away. It was time to capture the wretched soul.
***
It's not my time, it can't be. This body isn't even forty years old. I cannot go now. I still have some time left. I need to repent, I need more good on my slate. This cannot be how I end. No, it can't be. There is a magic code, something that gives immunity. I know it, I have heard it. I..but what is it?
***
Nahiyan Chowdhury felt as though his skin was being peeled off. Pain, red and fierce, was all he could see. He wondered, what did he do to deserve this?
"Everything", answered a sobbing voice in the back of his mind.
Wordsmith: Labib Al Barr
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