Crossroads

The nights could not have been colder; the air during the day could not have been any muskier. The place, it reeked of blood. The young boy had no clue what the place was. He only knew one thing. He had to keep walking. The people along his way seemed to resurface like long forgotten dreams now and then. Their echoes of despair resonated within his soul. He felt curious yet so overwhelmed. He had to fight the overwhelming feeling to try and remember how it must have been before. How they must have been before. But they had changed, transformed into beings he had never known before. He sought out his past sanctuaries only to discover that they had been destroyed, the fire still ablaze among the ruins in which they once used to exist. His bare feet felt cold against the hard gravel, the tiny rocks cutting into his skin. His feet wavered. But he stood up again with new resolution, he might have lost his haven but he could still find a way home. The people started to pursue him with distant words. He heard them but they did not make sense. Until finally when he managed to elucidate their wild gestures and ardent words. Run, they said. And so he ran. But not for long. Little had he realized the ball and chain they had attached to his feet trailing along all the while.

The writer is a student of Computer Science and Engineering at American International University Bangladesh.