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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Horror
- Subject: Crime
- Published: 12/04/2022
Punishment
Born 1970, M, from Srinagar, IndiaPunishment
By Mushtaque B Barq
Drooped neck coiled behind the iron bars, Danish was down like an inert stack. His limbs like his bald head were portraying nothing__Nothing momentous. A monotonous look of his bald head held between those frail arms appeared cemented and controlled. His neck was naked like a freshly ravished hilltop after a bombardment to yield minerals and his forlorn bald head was a remnant after a demolition. The mystery between the two naked hill tops was on cards as one was recounting the death of hope and the other was communicating the burdened shoulders dumped under the lumber afar resistance. Between his knees, his bald head was strained like a sinner forcibly pushed into purgatory through a narrow and unending tunnel. His head was still, his shoulders fixed and browbeaten to a complete submission.
A few iron bars of his cell from a distance were dividing Danish into parts. His drooped head in one of the frames, his shoulders, his knees and the feet split him into other frames. The thick angle iron administrated into those friendless iron bars was further slicing him into two halves like his conscious and unconscious being. His upper half was motionless and the lower one almost departed. Between these bars, Danish was scattered into bits beyond recognition.
The solitary window case over his drooped head was too high to be peeped through to catch a glimpse of the world outside the compressed confines. The walls were bashed, tortured, ravished and mutilated. Danish amidst this devastating record was a palpable illustration of obliteration.
before a heap. Those majestic arms start stroking his head and rubbing his shoulders. His limbs relaxed after a long time as a touch of love applied balm to his wounds. He was weeping without a cry; he was silent but narrating something to her. She grasped him tight as he coiled his body which seemed under the spell of love. The movement was brisk, his legs and arms suffered regained vitality. His breathing was too slow to declare him dead, but the corner of his shirt near his belly was occasionally beating against his lean frame, giving a clue that he was still alive, active but under a spell of magic as his limbs was controlled like his mind. He appeared like a snake guarding a treasure in some remote temple, waiting for a right priest to uncoil his body to unfold the mystery of the treasure.
A jerk re-assembled his entire body, his limbs moved, his head stood firm against the wall, his chest moved briskly but his eyes continued to obey the darkness, he was still gazing at the mysteries in that darkest tunnel for the search of light to find his way out, but he was struggling to come out.
Once again his limbs dropped, but this time he was thrown to the floor of his cell, his head banged against the shabby floor, his back was so feeble that one could easily calculate the bones of his backbone. He prostrated and never stood again.
Before the dusk, Danish was not attended by anyone, but then, a routine check across his cell made some guards peep through those iron bars behind which the sinner was to be punished without cleaning his sin.
They cried at Danish, he did not respond. The jailor was informed, he opened the door of the cell, inspected Danish, called the doctor who declared him dead.
Punishment(Mushtaque Barq)
Punishment
By Mushtaque B Barq
Drooped neck coiled behind the iron bars, Danish was down like an inert stack. His limbs like his bald head were portraying nothing__Nothing momentous. A monotonous look of his bald head held between those frail arms appeared cemented and controlled. His neck was naked like a freshly ravished hilltop after a bombardment to yield minerals and his forlorn bald head was a remnant after a demolition. The mystery between the two naked hill tops was on cards as one was recounting the death of hope and the other was communicating the burdened shoulders dumped under the lumber afar resistance. Between his knees, his bald head was strained like a sinner forcibly pushed into purgatory through a narrow and unending tunnel. His head was still, his shoulders fixed and browbeaten to a complete submission.
A few iron bars of his cell from a distance were dividing Danish into parts. His drooped head in one of the frames, his shoulders, his knees and the feet split him into other frames. The thick angle iron administrated into those friendless iron bars was further slicing him into two halves like his conscious and unconscious being. His upper half was motionless and the lower one almost departed. Between these bars, Danish was scattered into bits beyond recognition.
The solitary window case over his drooped head was too high to be peeped through to catch a glimpse of the world outside the compressed confines. The walls were bashed, tortured, ravished and mutilated. Danish amidst this devastating record was a palpable illustration of obliteration.
before a heap. Those majestic arms start stroking his head and rubbing his shoulders. His limbs relaxed after a long time as a touch of love applied balm to his wounds. He was weeping without a cry; he was silent but narrating something to her. She grasped him tight as he coiled his body which seemed under the spell of love. The movement was brisk, his legs and arms suffered regained vitality. His breathing was too slow to declare him dead, but the corner of his shirt near his belly was occasionally beating against his lean frame, giving a clue that he was still alive, active but under a spell of magic as his limbs was controlled like his mind. He appeared like a snake guarding a treasure in some remote temple, waiting for a right priest to uncoil his body to unfold the mystery of the treasure.
A jerk re-assembled his entire body, his limbs moved, his head stood firm against the wall, his chest moved briskly but his eyes continued to obey the darkness, he was still gazing at the mysteries in that darkest tunnel for the search of light to find his way out, but he was struggling to come out.
Once again his limbs dropped, but this time he was thrown to the floor of his cell, his head banged against the shabby floor, his back was so feeble that one could easily calculate the bones of his backbone. He prostrated and never stood again.
Before the dusk, Danish was not attended by anyone, but then, a routine check across his cell made some guards peep through those iron bars behind which the sinner was to be punished without cleaning his sin.
They cried at Danish, he did not respond. The jailor was informed, he opened the door of the cell, inspected Danish, called the doctor who declared him dead.
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Radrook
12/05/2022Tnanks for sharing. A very accurate depiction via visual imagery of man's inhumanity to man. I did wonder what Danish did to deserve that treatment. Question: How fast does human breathing need to be for us to be declared dead?
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