The bridge was old. Some moss had gathered on the pathway too. It looked as if it hadn’t been used for quite some time. There was mist around us....But through the mist we could see the branches moving with the soft wind. You had my favorite jacket on and the muffler I knitted for you last Christmas. I had my hair open; every once in a while you had your hand putting it behind my ears. My head on your big shoulders, we were listening to the songs on our iPod.
Suddenly, I saw a group of camouflaged men with black bandanas coming towards us. You pushed me aside and asked me to run… I could not; how could I have left you all by yourself out there? But I heard you screaming GO! Just as I started to run I heard gunshots. Terrified, I turned towards you and saw you bleeding…I started to cry…I tried to run towards you, to hold you… but I couldn’t lift my feet. I was calling out your name…
Just then, my brother woke me up, asking, “Oya, do you want toast or chapatti for breakfast?” I sighed and said “chapatti” and got in for a shower.
I’ve had many encounters with camouflaged men...many of them first-hand... and far too many second hand but still very close to home. And they still haunt me in my sleep. But thankfully, when I wake up, I wake to a normal life, normal work and a normal breakfast.
4 comments:
Scary stuff..And the bridge looks ominous..even in bright light.
But I'm glad you chose chapatti. Much better than being toast!
:D!
I give thanks for normal days as well. Sometimes, as Joni Mitchell say in Big Yellow Taxi, we don't know what we've got til it's gone.
@ bear
your comment treated panda with a good laugh :)
@ bellezza,
So true! waking up in the morning itself calls for a thousand praises.
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