The Summers and the popsicles have an intricate relationship, one is ready to beat the other. So, in the hope of beating the scorching summer of Vietnam the girl in mustardy yellow middy licking her popsicle vehemently—however, it was melting rapidly. Nothing could withstand against the 33-degree-Celsius of Vietnam. I had almost fainted, the nasty heat of Sun drained me up. I barely enjoyed my holidays. I live in Ireland—my friend Sash suggested to me to visit Vietnam, once.
The girl with muddled short hair appeared to be funky, her unevenly tanned skin as she looked half Indian. Her misty sea-blue eyes were resembling with her blue lagoon popsicle, it reminded me of Sash. She died a few months ago. She too was very crazy about popsicles, and the exact one the girl was licking with a slurp Sash did the same, it was irritating, however cute, too.
She was intriguing. The girl with popsicle had captivating shine. I went towards her, curiously, her beautiful face sheathed under the uneven creases, old-wounds marks, and stress marks, all were dominating her beauty. Yet, she was beautiful. When she saw me sauntering closer, her vehemence turned into anxiety, she turned dark pale. She ran away like a ghost approaching her to guzzle her, and took an exit from the left corner of the plaza, and left behind her half-sucked popsicle - almost melted.
Her strange behavior made me worried. However, I didn’t bother much. I retraced my way towards my hotel at a walking distance. I was already tired, summer was exhausting, Sun went down. So, I thought, to take rest.
I hate insomnia about me. The barking dogs appeared to be frightened. The wind was still, so we had no natural cacophony around. The girl with popsicle I don’t know, why she was intimidating me in my insomniac sleep. She appeared to be worried and stressed, the frequent turning of her head was exasperating.
“Argh! If I could read the heart of peoples. I could solve half of the problems in this world and mine too. I could read what Sash was feeling about me? I could read the frightened heart of the young blue-eyed girl, she might be crossed fifteen, and the marks on her face were beyond sixty,” I talked to the lonely me, apart. Half of the night passed. I heard somebody’s scream. It was frightening, and it completely shuddered me. She was hollering, and it was echoing with her pain eerily in the entire city. I looked around from my balcony. I saw the lady far behind the tree lying and covered her face with her palm, agonizing in excruciating pain. Twisting and fluttering. Twisting and fluttering. Eventually, the voice stopped coming. She went calm and free from all the pain. She died.
I ran down to the lady, and the surprising was many people were watching all the incidents from their balcony like killing is not a big deal for them. Unluckily, none came to help her. Bastards.
I turned her to see her face; I thwarted back by a jolt. They crushed her one eye, slit on her throat, and raped her and blood was spurting from her throat like a fountain. Her tongue was still blue of blue lagoon popsicle. The blood on her face traced the creases. I kneeled and cried with my heart in the palm. Sometimes I see Sash in her and sometimes the helpless blue-eyed girl. This world is unpitying, after the drama over people, went back to sleep. I didn’t want to continue my journey ahead. Early morning, I became ready for my flight, it was the worst trip of my life. I sighed.
It happens, the deity of goodness seeker always sucked off, So am I. They dragged me in this case. I was their first suspect. They should look after the true-culprit, lest they wasted their entire energy on interrogating me. Insane. This entire-world is corrupt. They are the reason for such heinous crime, they never reach the true criminals. However, they keep interrogating innocents. Hence, the muderers breathe in the open air. I went to jail for a week, my only crime was I had shown some humanity. This world has no place for pity, I realized, eventually.
I wish I glued myself at my balcony like the other civilians. I might be at home today. I had dragged as I had slashed her throat, and I crushed her blue eyes. Then plunged me in the case for no reason; I couldn’t go to my country for a month. It was my luck I didn’t sit on the electric chair. They let me go after one month. When I lost my entire business and when my life became hell. I would come on the road—I knew this trip is my last trip.
I met one gentleman with pity for me in his hazy eyes. I looked horrible with stress marks, as I saw myself in the mirror.
He said, “stay ten miles away from the murders, your want of humanity will kill you, true murderers will be breathing openly, and creatures like you will be starving to get home. So, that is the reason people afraid to show humanity.” I didn’t say anything. I moved to my hotel room. I had the bill of $7000 in my hand; I came into debt. A rebellion of humanity cost me everything. I cried a lot. My tears weren’t enough to fulfill my loss. Eventually, I had chosen to become heartless. Bastard. Like the audience in the balcony, whom I was abusing a month ago.
I was on the way to the airport. I saw the same imagery was revolving in my head. A girl was licking her popsicles, far away from her a foreigner, watching her curiously. He stepped towards her. She ran away. And he might be mused of her insane behavior, and he sprinted towards his stay. Finally, I could imagine what would happen to him? It would be the worst. An unexpected and unheralded storm would come and eradicate the existence of euphoria in his life. I could stop him, but I had lost my humanity, insanely. I smiled sarcastically. I threw air out of my lungs in his pity. It is a human nature they learn when they face otherwise, they don't even listen to almighty.
I cocked my head towards my companion seat; I found Sash was sitting beside. She was giving me, unnecessary, smile.
“Hard luck, no?” she said.
“Okay, I will suggest some good place next time,” she buzzed.
“Oh! Please. Stop showing me your teeth.”
“It was soo thrilling month, isn’t it?” she asked like she is jibing me.
“Is it?” a confusion spread over my face.
“I always told you; you could be aware that humanity hates humans and vice versa. I told you, start thinking for yourself, and for your family before the world. I told you Jacob is not a good person. He beguiled you concealing his monster under his innocent face, and you let him go since he showed you his fake tears. Now he killed me. Where did it go? What about your humanity? It only bought the destruction for you and me.”
A tear drop splashed from my eyes like it could be my last drop to the grave of humanity and humanitarianism within me.
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Great job with the imagery! This a sad story, but I think it brings to light that good deeds do not go unpunished and people do not act to help their fellow man because they are afraid. Hence, we get complacency.
Thank You, Kate, for your valuable time. I am thankful to you read my story. I am afraid. I think it brings to light that good deeds do not go unpunished - what does this line actually, means. I don't understand. I will be thankful to you if you can explain.
Hi Utkarsh! I'm sorry, I should have explained better. In the story, the character tries to help the woman when everyone else just stood by the balcony, but then that character ends up being arrested because of it. What I mean is that sometimes doing something good gets that person in trouble or punished. Sometimes the person doing the good deed ends up harmed as a result.
Thank You, Kate, for your calm reply. You know what this is the main reason of losing humanity. Recently a case happened in my country, a raped girl was dying beside the road, she waving for help. The merciless people stopped, scroll their car window, and see her dying and gone. She died at the place seeking for help. She might be alive, today. :( This is the harsh reality of our society.
Wow, that is really sad. I can see the necessity of your story to bring awareness.
Yeah. Kate. Thank You.
Hey Utkarsh, this is a very moving story that hits one with the harsh suffering of others. And you use very good descriptions. Well done. If you don't mind, I'll point out a few things that I caught on. - In your first paragraph, perhaps you mean to write 'I came a long way from Ireland.' - The statement 'I hate insomnia about me' is repetitive of the fact that she can't sleep. She just needs to say 'I hate insomnia'. - That statement that starts with 'I wished if...' I think it reads better as 'I wish I had glued myself to the balcony ...
Not at all, thank you so much like your name you read my story peacefully. Thank you that you gave me the true feedback. I will correct it all and will try not to repeat the things you told.. I am glad...😍😍