If the grain of the misfortune is already sown in the field of
our name, it is destined to grow one day with the click of the clock. Escapism
is the rarest breed that one can afford to buy with the currency of our luck.
It was Sunday, the seventh of October, twenty-twelve. A piece of day
in the calendar of my stay here that printed a seal of misfortune in the pages
of my life, lived and to be lived.
The short-circuiting melted my one-year-old LCD which to date
fed me with the songs of the current global affairs. To my utter despair, half
of the used-to-be magnificent screen mirrored to be the best worst electronics
I have ever seen.
The cruel hands of the inferno had an extraordinary length of
courage that it grabbed one of my friends scanning machines into a roasted ball
of carbon. The flame had danced with the contemporary steps over the carpeted
floor of my room, thereby ignoring the presence of few minute electronics.
Their fate was ruined with the wind of its strength that it completely lost its
genetic shape and size.
And fortunately, as its song of the smoke danced out of the door
of my curtained window, it accidentally pulled the trigger of hairs inside the
nasal chambers of the people around.
These pollens of smell ought to be the synonymy of pheromone
that pushed the neighbours into a single file to the direction of my house like
a congress of ants. At that moment, the closeness of a bunch of ladies became the
furthest strength to strangulate the fuming flame inside my room, since their
timid hearts were engulfed by the tentacles of fear and panic.
But with the life of their cry, it towed the crowd of archers
who became the heroes in the fire battlefield. The fibre of their muscles was
put into an acid test that they assassinated the flames like an infuriated
Brutus killing Julie Caesar. Their might echoed the famous Marcus Brutus’s
line: It is not
that I “loved Caesar less,” but that I “loved Rome more” as in the process
of putting the fire off, it involved making my windows nude, breaking the door and
soaking my entire bedroom.
After I reached the scene, I lost some hours to knit the wool of
my courage to believe what has really happened. Thank God, I gave
a huge sigh of cry that it only injured me and saved the life and hard-earned
property of fellow mates. Keep aside casting the casualties, the fire ignored
to impair the rest of anything other than mine. It sent me a thrill of message that
fortune comes at the cost of misfortunes as well.
No comments:
Post a Comment