Marsh Mud and BloodRahula’s bare feet meandered carefully around the patches of swampy earth, seeking the dryer, grassier areas of ground. His sarong was hitched up into his belt for convenience and slung over his shoulder was a cloth which he had knotted up into a makeshift bag. The sun bore down on him as he made his way up the hill as if to make up for the hours of rain that the sky had shed that morning.
Rahula gazed up the winding trail for any sign of the lookouts with no success. It was, anyway, their job to see and not be seen.
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled at the thought that he was being watched. He wondered worriedly if his uncle had forgotten that he was coming. His uncle, the undisputed and adored leader of the rebels, who as the stories say, the bravest of British soldiers saw in their nightmares as a red eyed demon. These myths unsettled Rahula specially because if he really was a demon, what did that make his nephew?
The crack of a gunshot pulled Rahula out of his rever
Sweet dreamsLife is so fair.
The way you get everything you deserve.
The way you always know what’s going to happen next.
The way you can turn off unwanted emotions.
Time is nice, too.
It flows differently just based on where we are.
It goes so fast when we’re together.
And so agonizingly slow when we’re apart.
But we’re in a flawed world.
We are wounded by bullets and by words.
We always hurt, from aches and pains, both physical and emotional.
Damn this body for its flaws.
And bless it for its abilities.
But damn it all anyway.
Because life is so fair.
I love you and don’t know when it started.
Or how I got so broken hearted.
But I hear about how you suffer.
I long to fix it all.
I long to whisk us away to a new place where life and time and everything can be perfect.
I want to cut off the bad parts.
Do we have to live such different lives?
I know you love me, too.
But why are we so separated by simple things that neither of us can jus