Trapped Blog #3

This is my fiction story “Trapped” based on the flood life of our region (NE India)

I have not assembled the finishing yet so it the first part of two.

        Trapped #1/2

My heart was not in the right place, for a while. I was gazing at the ant who was desperately trying to fight out of my prison. I had flooded its surroundings with honey, the one thing that it had come looking for. It had many companions but only that particular ant was able to catch my attention. Probably because of its bigger size, or maybe because I saw it pushing its way out of the rest to escape my wrath.

I decided, it should have a name…
I poured a little more honey and made the island narrower. I felt a bitter contentment watching his obvious struggles to escape. The more he struggled, the more I felt powerful. I could dissect him and observe his composition with a magnifying glass or remove one of his limbs and send him back limping; or maybe cut off his head and see how long he takes to die. And if my heart melts any time sooner, I may make a bridge over the river with a spoon or a stick or even with biscuits and adorn his path to life with sugar cubes. Then, I heard someone call my name. The gate was open but there was no one in the verandah. I went towards the backyard to check. The evening sun was about to set. I felt the last rays of the sun touching my face. “Razeiv! Where are you? Are you lost? ”

Only then I realised I was in search of a voice… her voice. “I thought no one was at home. Your father told me to pluck the ghost peppers

this morning. But I see there are brinjals and tomatoes too. Tell your father that I have taken some and also some papayas.” I was taken aback by this sudden attack. I was not prepared to give away my produce yet. “Hey!” I shouted like a new mother being separated from her baby. “They are not ripe yet! And, by the way, they are not my father’s, they are mine. So, stay away from them. “Oh! Don’t give yourself a headache, child! They will be dead by tomorrow evening anyway. So, why don’t you pluck the peppers? I will bring the pole for the papayas.” I was terrified of her self-proclaimed authority. Though she was my father’s sister, I was not ready to listen to her. Only this morning, I had cleaned up the garden and counted the vibrant green peppers.

To be continued…

Trapped Part 1/2


Thank you so much for reading if you have ?, and please feel free to give your love, suggestions and your precious support!

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Author: razeiv
Singer/Songwriter and a part of LFC Family

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