It started off with a bright, boozy brunch. The food was as good as if not better than the merry conversations at the table. My head still floating with a mild buzz, I decided to visit the museum. It always transported me to the past. I walked through all the exhibits, taking my time to read all the descriptions. The solid, factual language used, was a nice change from the flowery words I was used to at work. After spending a couple of hours at all the exhibits, I made my way to the technology wing. This was my favourite section. As I observed the handheld devices, I remembered the smartphone era from my childhood. We still had to touch the screen. Today, my brain-link glasses do it all for me.
It had been a rough couple of days. My house was burgled. They did not get their hands on my money, but they did get away with items that held sentimental value for me. Replacing them was impossible. Or so I thought, until I came upon a music stall at the market. The golden gramophone caught my eye. It would be a good substitute for the one I lost. The stall owner smiled at me as I began looking at the instrument with admiring eyes. It was the same colour, model and had the same initials carved on to it. Wait..
Apologies first. I have been on vacation in Australia(loving it here) and have had little opportunity to blog. For now, here’s a new flash fiction which is my first entry in Tanmay Jain’s FTS Project. Here it goes:
There was something extraordinarily ordinary about murder that people just didn’t get!
It was the natural order of things. A hunter hunts and prey gets murdered. Yet, us humans deem to curb our natural instincts. Our societies condone murders and have made laws protecting the prey. It makes sense, since most of the lawmakers are prey themselves.
I don’t take these laws too seriously anymore There was a time when I did that. I believed the laws and joined the military to protect the prey. A few close encounters knocked some sense into me. I defected. Went off the radar and began doing what I was born for. I am quite good at it too. Sixty seven on my kill list and no cop has even got close to figuring my identity. Number sixty eight should be fun.