Part one: White – Inside

I am surrounded by walls.

They tower over me, spreading darkness. One of my five senses are dampened by these walls, rendering me blind. I can only feel, smell, taste and hear.

Tasting my way out of this place is not an option. I only smell the reek of my own making. So that leaves hearing and feeling.

I take care not to alarm anyone outside. I listen closely, trying to understand where I am and who my captor is.

This is probably something I should have asked myself a long ago. You know, when I was put in here. But I feel like I was too young. Like an infant. Now, I am like an adult and it is probably too late. But this is not my end. This is not where I give up. I am going to get out.

I can hear something outside, it’s an annoying noise. Kind of like a child, playing. I wonder why, of all things, I hear a child. I should hear my parents, or my captives, or terrorists. I should hear a deep, dark voice. Almost sinister. I should hear laughter, growls and evil plans being concocted about my fate. I should hear madness. Chaos. Infinite doom.

Instead, I hear a child. Is this psychological torture? Is a child my infinite doom?

There is a sudden shake. The whole room moves. It’s like an earthquake. The walls are shaking, I am falling all over the place inside the room. In the darkness, I see nothing. I can barely feel a thing except my surroundings. I feel my smooth, milky skin. I feel the grimy, metallic walls. I feel the smooth floor. I feel trapped.

Another shake. Another earthquake. I find my heart in severe palpitation. I panic.

I want to scream, I want to shout. But what will that do? I will probably be killed. Or worst, tortured.

So I keep quiet and try to find out what is happening. I listen. Silently.

A chuckle. This chuckle is also shrill, and childish but a little more pronounced. This chuckle seems to originate from an older child. It was saying something.

“… I have one too,” says the second voice. The older child chuckles once more.

“No! You don’t.” says the first voice and suddenly, there is a yell. No, a scream. The child seems to be calling for its parents.

Can they be my captor? Is this my chance?

Footsteps. “Leave it alone,” says a third voice. I can’t quite figure out who it is. Is it male? Is it female? Is it young or old?

I cry. Silent, of course.

I feel a million years in my tears. It’s as if this captivity has made me mature.

I think of ways to get out. I know there is only one. The hole.

You see, my first week here (or was it a month?), I was chilled out. I thought this would be just a fun, temporary place. Kind of like a game. I never thought I had been captured. It was more of a peekaboo kind of deal.

Then, slowly it dawned on me: I had been kidnapped. I couldn’t remember who I had been before. It was like my whole constitution had been changed. I was no longer who I had been before the capture. Now, I was different.

They had experimented on me. They had injected me with things. And now, they had confined me to a dark cell. Probably for eternity.

Once realization dawned, so did the immediate desire to jump to action. And so, I felt around. And when I did so, I felt it. A hole.

It, at first, seemed like a depression in the ceiling. Like a chimney maybe? But circular and without a column or a fireplace. It was soft. The whole ceiling had been made of a metallic sheet but this small hole like area was made out of a soft material… Like felt or cling film. It didn’t make sense. What was it purpose?

But then again, what was mine?

I was waiting for the hole to magically open up. I was hoping for a ladder to descend down to my rescue. And that some detectives would be my rescuers.

But that day had never come. And now I was here. The earthquakes. The heat. I was no longer chilled out. I was boiling in this hot, dark room.

I waited and waited and waited. It was all in vain. My mind immediately jumped to the worst (and the most probable) of the outcomes: I would probably die and wither away in here. I would just wait here, as my body would turn into worm food and then I would probably die. Peacefully? Or in pain? Would the hunger kill me? Or would my expanded bowels? Would my bladder explode? Or would my skin curdle like sour milk.

I wanted to cry more, but was too tired to do anything else. I knew there was no hope because, now, everything had — OH FUCK!


Part two: White – Outside


Sweet sweet freedom.

As sudden as I had been captured, that is how I was released as well. One second, I had been contemplating death, the next second I was thrown out of the room by some magical force.

The ceiling had been ripped open by some kind of a storm, and the sun had been too bright for me to see outside.

But the smell of fresh air was nothing compared to the damp and moist room. I was free, free for the first time. And I had light. I could see. I could use all my 5 senses. It felt otherworldly, almost magical. For the first time, I had tears of joy in my eyes.

I felt myself fall flat on the road side. It hurt.

It was scalding hot. There was no wind. The storm was nowhere to be seen. And I knew not of the force that had thrown me out of my confinement.

I tried to scramble away from the road. I knew my captors must be on my tail. So I tried to get up and run. But I couldn’t get up. My legs had turned to liquid.

I realized what had happened just then. I had been thrown from a height. Such a height that it had broken me.

Cars passed by nonchalantly, as if they couldn’t see me. People walked by, not giving a damn. And I just stayed there, spread out like butter.

And then a smell. It was the worst smell I had ever had the pleasure of in taking through my nose. And it was coming from me.

Had it been the smell of shit, I would’ve not cared. But it was not. It was the smell that accompanied curdling milk. Was I rotting?!

I fainted. I would never get up again.

The last thing I felt was a tongue lashing over my almost dead body. And whiskers.

Part three: Peach Outside

It was a cute family of four, walking along the skywalk.

The lady wore a beautiful red saree, an ice cream cone in her hand. She seemed happily chattering with the man beside her, holding her shopping bags and seeming equally entertained.

Her husband, the man with the bags, had one eye on his wife while the other on his kids. Two children, Jack and John aged 5 and 8 respectively , were giggling and laughing and jumping. Jack seemed a little frustrated but John seemed content.

While the parents walked behind, the mother oblivious while the father wary, Jack groaned. He had not been allowed ice cream. But it gave him pleasure that he had been allowed to consume one white tetra pack of something. Jack, being 5, had no idea what was inside. It seemed new. And his brother, John, was also holding one pack.

Jack felt proud of himself. He was a big boy now. He had been allowed to walk by himself. Below him, cars sped by. Vroom.

“I have boo boo, you don’t” Jack teased John. Despite of being the younger one, Jack still was always the one to taunt his brother. But John was the calm of the two.

He simply said “Of course not. I have one too.” John was chuckling now.

“No you don’t!” Jack retorted, screamed for his mom and lunged for John’s hand.

“Leave it alone!” said their father. He was rushing to get hold of Jack. Jack had, in process of lunging on John, dropped his tetra pack. Its contents were now all split on the road below them.

“There goes your cold lassi. I told you to be careful!”

The mother took hold of one kid, the father the troublesome other, and together, the family of four walked home.

Below them, a cat purred softly. On the sidewalk of the road, she had found dinner.

Heya Bleedsters!

It has been too long since I flexed my creative muscles. So I decided to use them. And, the result, is this. This crazy, confusing, crappy story.

You might probably be dumbfounded by the purpose of this story. Well, a friend of mine gave three random words (heat, skywalk and cold lassi) and asked me to weave a story out of them.




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