Briagshire

The chocolate brownie sat on the plate, its surface a rich, decadent brown that might remind someone of an unmentionable sight. The texture, while perfectly baked, defied traditional expectations, with irregular edges and an almost playful ooze of melted chocolate that could easily be mistaken for something less appetising.

As I placed the plate on the ground, I brushed a stray lock of jet-black hair away from my face. I carefully sprinkled some cocoa powder on the brownie, making it look convincingly like dog poop covered in dirt. The absurdity of my creation made me stifle a giggle.

My five-year-old brother, Arjun, who had been playing with his toy cars nearby, looked up and came running over, his eyes wide with curiosity.

‘Vedika Didi!’ he called, skidding to a stop beside me.

He stared at the brownie, his nose wrinkling in confusion. ‘Is that what you were doing in the kitchen?’

‘Umm... yeah,’ I replied, trying to keep a straight face. ‘Look, don’t tell Mother about it. Trust me, it’s worth it.’

‘Okay,’ he agreed, though his eyes stayed glued to the bizarre-looking brownie.

‘Good,’ I said, ruffling his hair. ‘What do you want?’

‘Ten rupees to buy chips. Five extra for not telling Mother,’ Arjun said, his innocent eyes now twinkling with mischief.

‘You little brat,’ I muttered under my breath. ‘Go to my room and take fifteen rupees from the drawer.’

Arjun’s face lit up with glee. He gave me a quick hug before dashing back into the house, his small feet pounding against the floorboards.

As he disappeared inside, I glanced around to make sure no one else had witnessed our little deal. Satisfied that the coast was clear, I turned my attention back to the ‘poop’ on the plate. With a mischievous grin, I added a few more crumbs around the edges to enhance its authenticity.

Just as I finished, a familiar, slightly nasal voice called out from behind me.

‘What’s that you’ve got there, Vedika?’

I turned to see Mrs Sharma, our nosy neighbour, peering over the fence with her ever-curious eyes. Her greying hair was tied in a tight bun, and she wore her usual floral print sari.

‘Namaste, Aunty!’ I said, mustering my most innocent smile. ‘It’s a little treat I whipped up in the kitchen.’

Mrs Sharma’s eyes narrowed as she leaned in closer, her nose almost twitching as she inspected the plate. ‘Are you sure that’s just a brownie, dear? It looks an awful lot like... well, let’s just say it looks rather unique.’

‘Umm...’ I muttered.

‘What’s wrong, Vedika?’ Mrs Sharma asked suddenly, giving me a mini heart attack. ‘You’re looking rather pale. Perhaps you need to spend more time in the sun.’

I sighed. She was asking what was wrong with me and not what was wrong with the brownie.

Mrs Sharma turned her attention back to the cake, ‘It resembles something.’

My heart pounded as I realized my carefully crafted prank was teetering on the edge of exposure. Thinking quickly, I forced a bright, confident smile. ‘It’s... uh... a new recipe I’m trying out! It’s called... um... mud pie brownies! Yes, that’s it! Mud pie brownies,’ I exclaimed, hoping she would buy my story.

To my relief, Mrs Sharma seemed intrigued rather than suspicious. With a delighted twinkle in her eye, she reached out to taste.

‘Well, I must say, Vedika, you certainly have a knack for creativity! I’ll have to try making these mud pie brownies myself sometime,’ she declared with a grin, before taking a small, appreciative bite.

As she walked away, I let out a sigh of relief, grateful to have dodged a bullet. But as I glanced down at the plate in my hands, I couldn’t help but wonder just how many more close calls I could endure before my luck finally ran out.

Just then, I spotted my friend Archita hurrying towards me. She waved her hand and stopped where I was settled in a comfortable squat.

‘Sup,’ she greeted me.

‘Yo,’ I saluted her with a grin.

She looked at the plate and grimaced. ‘Eww... What’s that?’

‘Do you see that dog there?’ I pointed to a scruffy street dog across the street, scratching itself. ‘It pooped here. I collected it on the plate, see?’

‘That’s nasty,’ she said, adjusting her spectacles and wrinkling her nose in disgust.

‘I wonder how it tastes. Is it any different from our poop?’ I asked, my tone mock-serious.

‘Why? Did you taste human poop or what?’

‘No. I will feed it to you.’

‘Shut up,’ Archita snapped, rolling her eyes.

‘That won’t kill my curiosity,’ I said before picking up the entire brownie and stuffing it into my mouth.

Archita froze, her eyes widening in horror.

I grabbed my throat and crouched, pretending to gag. ‘It is bitter. I won’t spur on the purpose of consuming this monstrosity. Help me—Water! I need water!’ I cried, my voice dramatic.

‘You...’ Archita trailed off, her face a mixture of shock and disbelief. ‘No way.’

‘It’s killing me! I am dying! Help me, please!’ I covered my face with my hands, peeking through my fingers to gauge her reaction.

‘What?’

‘My stomach! It’s worse than the human poop I ate near the nuclear power plant considering that poop was radioactive!’ I moaned.

‘Huh? What the he—’

‘I am dying!’ I wailed, clutching my stomach.

‘I don’t think eating dog poop can kill you. Especially if you have consumed radioactive crap,’ Archita’s voice became calmer, though she looked increasingly sceptical.

‘Then maybe I am dying because suddenly the side effects of radioactive poop have kicked in!’ I gasped, falling to the ground dramatically.

‘Oh no!’ My gullible friend panicked, her eyes darting around as if looking for help.

‘Say goodbye to my mother on my behalf,’ I whispered, feigning a death rattle.

‘I am going to call your mother!’ Archita exclaimed.

‘No, wait! A prank, bro, it’s a prank,’ I said, standing up and dusting off my lower. ‘I was just doing a little bit of trolling. It’s a cake. Never ate either human or dog faeces in my entire life.’

Archita stopped and pointed at the now-empty plate, her mouth hanging open. ‘It looked disgusting.’

‘Yeah, that was the point of the prank,’ I said, grinning from ear to ear.

‘I knew, and I played along. Why do you think that I would be stupid enough to believe that you consumed radioactive poop? It was a crappy prank.’

‘Crappy indeed,’ I agreed, chuckling. ‘I am not stupid enough to eat crap of any sort.’

‘Well, you are, and you can do that. Who knows?’ Archita rolled her eyes.

‘I could, doesn’t mean I would,’ I said, gesturing towards a cluster of children playing in the park. ‘Look,’ I continued, ‘some children are playing there. Let’s join them.’

Archita hesitated, her brow furrowing with uncertainty. ‘I thought we had plans about studying,’ she countered, her voice tinged with reluctance and a hint of guilt.

I waved off her concerns with a dismissive flick of my hand. ‘Nah,’ I insisted, my tone brimming with conviction. ‘Group study is pointless, and you don’t like studying either. Plus, the weather is simply too perfect to waste time indoors. Let’s seize the moment and play. I haven’t studied anything yet anyway. I’ll just cram everything the night before the exams. It always works out in the end.’

Archita sighed, clearly exasperated by my lackadaisical attitude. ‘You always say that,’ she remarked, her voice tinged with irritation and a touch of admiration. ‘And then you end up pulling off something like ninety-seven per cent.’

‘Don’t cast your evil eye on me,’ I mumbled, half-joking, half-serious.

Without much further delay, we sprinted to the playground, our eager footsteps echoing against the pavement. The sprawling ground stretched out before us; a vast expanse of greenery bathed in the warm, golden glow of the afternoon sun. The sky above was a perfect canvas of azure blue, dotted with wispy clouds drifting lazily by like fluffy cotton candy. The scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the fragrant blooms of nearby roses, filling the air with a sweet, intoxicating aroma. The birds chirped merrily overhead, their melodious songs adding to the symphony of nature. A cool breeze caressed my skin, and I couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer beauty of it all. What a blissful day it was! One could easily lose oneself in the serenity of the moment, perhaps even inspired to pen a poem capturing the essence of such tranquillity.

But alas, the atmosphere was anything but calm or peaceful.

‘DON’T YOU KNOW HOW TO BLOODY PLAY!?’ one of the boys berated another, his voice dripping with frustration and anger. His face was flushed, and his fists were clenched.

‘Do you come here to play or to shout at others without any reason?’ the other boy reasoned, his tone steady but eyes flashing with irritation. ‘You haven’t scored a single goal, yet you act so arrogantly.’

‘Well then, don’t come to play if you have any problem with me,’ the first retorted defiantly, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘The ball is mine, so I’m the one who allows you to play.’

‘As though the ground belongs to your father,’ the second countered, his voice rising with indignation.

‘The ball does,’ the first shot back, his tone dripping with superiority. ‘Not the ground. I will play; what are you going to do about it?’

‘I’ll handle it like I always do – with a calm head and a plan,’ the second boy said, his calm exterior barely masking his frustration. ‘Apparently, you can’t do that because you lack the necessary knowledge and planning skills.’

‘Handle what? You can’t turn a bicycle handle without falling down. Come up with something better,’ the first boy said with a smug smile.

‘Ooooohhhhh,’ some of the boys hooted in the background, their laughter mingling with the tension in the air, creating a charged atmosphere.

The second boy turned red in embarrassment. ‘You are a crap person.’

‘You are buffalo piss,’ the first countered, his voice dripping with disdain.

‘Shut up, ape-brained lizard vomit,’ the second snapped, his patience wearing thin, his fists clenching at his sides.

‘Be quiet, stinky fart of a dead rabbit,’ the first fired back, his eyes narrowing with determination.

‘Wow, that’s poetic,’ I muttered under my breath, unable to hide my amusement at the escalating insults.

‘No way did we decide to play with them,’ Archita whispered, her voice filled with disbelief and a hint of regret.

The argument between the two boys continued to escalate, each insult more outrageous than the last. Meanwhile, the other children seemed unfazed by the altercation, some sniggering and others egging the two on to fight. The scene was a chaotic blend of tension and laughter, with the onlookers enjoying the spectacle.

‘I am going home. Stay here and play with nothing,’ the boy with the football declared, his voice dripping with frustration as he stormed off, his face set in a stubborn frown.

‘Yeah, we are better off without you. I am going to study. You play with your ball at your house. No one cares,’ the other retorted, his tone dismissive as he followed suit, his back rigid with suppressed anger.

And with that, both of them stormed off in opposite directions, leaving behind a group of bewildered onlookers. Most of the children, realising there was no game to be had, dispersed and went home, their voices fading into the distance as they trudged away, their disappointed expressions mirroring the sudden change in atmosphere.

Archita and I stood there, silent witnesses to the entire spectacle, our gazes locked on the empty playground before us.

‘Looks like we should go too. They are not playing anything anymore,’ I said, breaking the silence that had settled between us.

‘Yeah. Let’s go and climb trees,’ Archita suggested, her eyes bright with excitement.

‘Good idea,’ I agreed, but despite our agreement, neither of us made a move to leave. Instead, we found ourselves transfixed by a bright blue light emanating from the vicinity of the two remaining boys.

‘What are they doing?’ Archita asked, her curiosity piqued as she squinted towards the source of the light.

‘I don’t know,’ I admitted, my interest now thoroughly engaged, my eyes narrowing as I tried to make sense of the strange phenomenon.

‘Let’s take a look,’ Archita proposed, her voice tinged with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

With a shared glance, we approached the two boys. As we drew closer, we could hear snippets of their conversation.

‘... near the school drain. I thought it was too cool to be near the school, so I brought it here,’ the thin, bony boy was saying, his voice hushed but brimming with excitement.

‘Let’s go! Sell it,’ the boy with spectacles chimed in eagerly, his glasses glinting as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

‘I am not going to sell my new watch!’ Daksh snapped. ‘My father bought it for me.’

‘Fool, we are talking about the box, right? Why would I suddenly be interested in your watch?’ the boy with spectacles reasoned.

‘You want to sell the BOX!? Why?’ the thin boy asked in astonishment. ‘I haven’t open it yet and you are asking me to sell it!’

‘I don’t think this box is of any use to us,’ the boy with spectacles said. ‘We should sell it and get some money.’

In the lap of the thin boy, a fine black box lay. It exuded an aura of exquisite craftsmanship, its sleek obsidian exterior adorned with intricate patterns that seemed to dance in the faintest light. The surface was seemingly smooth, yet there was an almost imperceptible texture, like fine sandpaper beneath one’s fingertips. A mesmerising bright blue glow radiated from the box, pulsating with a hypnotic rhythm that drew the eye and sparked curiosity. Despite its delicate appearance, there was an undeniable sense of power and mystery emanating from the box, an enigma waiting to be unravelled.

‘What’s that?’ Archita asked him, her eyes wide with wonder, her curiosity piqued by the strange object.

‘A cat,’ the thin boy said with a deadpan expression.

‘Were we supposed to laugh or what?’ Archita rolled her eyes.

‘It is strange. What’s inside it?’ I asked, my voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, my gaze fixed on the mysterious box.

And I got ignored.

‘What’s inside it?’ I repeated, louder this time.

‘I don’t know. I haven’t opened it yet,’ Daksh spoke, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

I noticed there was something written on the box. ‘Hey, can you give it to me for a second?’ I requested Daksh, extending my hand towards him, my curiosity burning brighter than ever.

He hesitated for a moment before handing the box to me, his eyes darting nervously between me and the mysterious object in my hands, a hint of apprehension in his gaze.

Now, holding the box in my hands, I could see what was written. Though I didn’t understand the language, I was pretty sure that it was a Romance language of some sort. Spanish? Italian? Portuguese? Romanian? I was sure it wasn’t French as I knew French. It could be a less-spoken Romance language like Romansh or Sardinian. It could be Latin. Determined to decipher its meaning, I pulled out a pen from my pocket and glanced around for something to write on.

I looked around and scanned the group, ‘Does anyone have a paper?’

The boy with spectacles nodded, his expression unreadable as he reached into his pocket and, without a word, he pulled out a paper aeroplane and launched it towards me.

I caught it and unfolded it, the paper crinkling beneath my fingers as I smoothed it out on my palm. I scribbled the inscriptions on the paper, my hand moving quickly.

On the top of the box, ‘SS’ was written fancily.

‘What does this SS stand for?’ I asked, ‘Schutzstaffel?’

And no one replied. They probably didn’t realise what I said. But if the box was some German WWII stuff, why would it be here?

I handed the box back to Daksh, who cradled it once again, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns on its surface as if trying to decipher their secrets. ‘This box is quite interesting,’ Daksh repeated himself, his curiosity now fully ignited by the mysterious container. ‘Shall I open it?’

‘Nah, bro, sell it,’ the boy with the spectacles insisted, his practicality shining through, his eyes gleaming with the prospect of profit. ‘Then you’re going to get a good sum of money. You should utilise some of that money to gift me some cool IPL-related jerseys.’

‘No. I should open it,’ Daksh countered, his determination evident in his tone.

‘Sell it,’ the boy with the spectacles persisted, unwilling to budge from his suggestion, his voice tinged with a hint of impatience.

‘I am going to open it,’ Daksh declared once more.

The two boys engaged in a brief back-and-forth, their voices growing louder with each exchange, their argument echoing across the empty playground. But amidst their debate, I focused on the paper on which I wrote the inscription, my mind racing with thoughts of the box’s mysterious origins.

‘Sell it!’

‘No!’

Amidst their argument, Daksh unlatched the lid, his movements deliberate and resolute. With a determined tug, he tried to pry it open.

‘Why isn’t it opening?’ He muttered.

‘Don’t do it!’ The boy with spectacles instructed his voice tinged with apprehension.

‘Imagine if there is Uranium in it,’ Daksh said, his voice laced with a hint of excitement, his curiosity outweighing any sense of caution.

‘Yeah, it’s giving Uranium vibes,’ Archita agreed.

‘Yeah, but it’s blue,’ I said, ‘And kind of more—’

‘Glowy!’ Archita quickly interjected.

‘That’s not a real word,’ I murmured under my breath.

‘This box has a weird smell... It smells like... butter?’

Daksh sniffed the box and nodded in agreement, his brow furrowing with concentration as he continued with his attempts to open the box, his fingers deftly working at the latch in a determined effort to reveal its contents.

‘More than the box, I smell a strong deodorant. And it is kinda burning my nose,’ the boy with the spectacles remarked, wrinkling his nose in distaste, his voice tinged with annoyance. ‘I bet it’s Daksh’s stinky deodorant.’

‘I am not wearing it today,’ Daksh snapped defensively, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he bristled at the accusation, his hands faltering for a moment before resuming their task.

‘Stop capping,’ the boy with spectacles guffawed. ‘It’s always you. Once we went to a shop and the owner pinched his nose.’

‘Shut up, Kulshreshtha,’ Daksh muttered, his tone laced with irritation.

‘Or what, Pandey?’

Daksh shook his head, ‘You are insufferable sometimes, Shatrughan.’

‘I can say the same for you,’ Shatrughan Kulshreshtha retorted.

Archita and I said nothing. My eyes were fixed on the box that Daksh was trying to open.

Finally, the box creaked open, emitting an ominous sound that seemed to echo in the silence of the playground. I braced myself, but nothing could have prepared me for what was about to follow.

The box unleashed a powerful vortex, its dark blue glow casting an eerie shadow over the surroundings. Daksh was the first to get sucked inside the vortex, his form disappearing into the unknown depths of the box. Before he could vanish completely, he reached out, grasping the hand of Shatrughan, who in turn clung to the grass for support, his eyes wide with fear and disbelief.

I stuffed the paper with the inscription hastily into my pocket, a sense of urgency driving me to prepare to flee from the scene. But Archita, fuelled by a combination of kindness, bravery, and perhaps a touch of foolishness, believed she could save the day.

With determination etched on her face, she grabbed Shatrughan’s hand, attempting to pull him out of the vortex. But her efforts proved futile against the overwhelming force of the swirling abyss.

What did she even expect? I watched helplessly as she too was consumed by the swirling darkness, her form disappearing into the depths with a final, desperate cry.

‘You were a good friend, Archita,’ I whispered. ‘I will miss you... I guess?’

Just as I was about to turn and flee from the scene, the vortex expanded suddenly, unleashing a force so powerful that it swept me off my feet and pulled me into its depths without warning, leaving behind only an empty playground and the lingering echoes of our desperate struggle.

The interior of the box—or what I assumed to be the interior—was unlike anything I had ever seen. It resembled a wormhole, with swirling hues of pink, violet, and blue dancing across the expanse like ribbons, their vibrant colours blending and shifting in an otherworldly display.

‘Archita?’ I called out into the void, my voice trembling with uncertainty as it echoed into the emptiness. ‘Can you hear me?’ But there was no response, only the eerie silence of the unknown, swallowing my words like a black hole.

‘Daksh? Shatrughan? Archita?’ I continued, my voice growing more desperate with each name I called, the fear and uncertainty mounting with every passing moment. ‘Is anyone there?’

But my calls fell on deaf ears, met only by the haunting silence of the void. As I grappled to comprehend my surroundings, panic clawed at the fringes of my consciousness, each beat of my heart reverberating through my chest like a relentless drumbeat of dread.

I was petrified, paralysed by the overwhelming sense of helplessness that washed over me like a suffocating tide. The silence was deafening, broken only by the frantic pounding of my own heart, each beat echoing in the endless expanse of the void.

I tried to move, to look around, but my body refused to obey as if bound by invisible chains. I yelled out once more, desperation tainting my voice, but still, there was no response, only the oppressive silence of the void pressing in on all sides.

My mind raced with a whirlwind of thoughts and questions, each one more terrifying than the last. ‘Is this a dream?’ I said to myself. ‘If yes, will I ever wake up? Where am I? Do I still even exist?’ The uncertainty gnawed at my sanity, threatening to consume me whole.

‘Great,’ I muttered to myself, my voice barely above a whisper, ‘I hope I am just unconscious or hallucinating or something.’

I pinched myself in a futile attempt to determine whether what was happening was real or not, the sharp pain confirming the reality of my situation.

‘Oh no,’ I winced, the realisation sinking in like a stone in the pit of my stomach, ‘everything that is happening is indeed real!’

Suddenly, I was blinded by a dazzling white light, its brilliance piercing through the darkness like a beacon of hope in the vast emptiness. For a moment, I was overwhelmed by its intensity, my senses overloaded by the sheer magnitude of its radiance.

For some reason, it kind of reminded me of Magnesium ribbon getting combusted to form Magnesium oxide.

Okay sorry... poor comparison...

But the light faded as quickly as it had appeared, leaving me once again shrouded in darkness, my vision swimming as I felt myself slipping into unconsciousness, the void consuming me whole as I surrendered to its embrace.