I don’t like stories that harm the reader. here, I am going to incite a tale which I thought was unreal but isn’t. okay, how shall I start? I am short of words. we are walking. there are nine of us. I have a diary in my hand. other doesn’t know how to write. I have a bunch of pens in my pants. I have found out that i can write and ergo this task was supposed to be mine as suggested by others. we have been walking for a long time. a person just stops in the middle and falls on the ground. we wait for him to wake up and move along with us. i write his name to make sure he is dead. we move along. he wakes up and walks with us. we do not respond. he says he is not dead but for us, he is. we walk continuously without noticing the man following us. after some time, he falls silent and lazily follows us.
i walk with others. the sun rises and drowns. i write in the book.
shoes are torn
i keep the sentences short. it’s better this way. the pages of the diary are slowly filling with words written randomly without bothering margins or lines. some of the filled pages are overwritten with the same or different lines. another one falls down. we all wait for him to stand up. when he doesn’t, i write his name on the last page along with the first one who is still following us. the person also stands and pretends he is dead and we pretend he is dead. hence, we walk towards the sun.
as i write in the diary, i fall back. i don’t bother but others call on me to catch up and some times they don’t. it’s important for me to remember their name. sometimes, one of them walks slowly to converse with me
“you know my name, right?”
“yes, i do.”
“when i will die?”
i stop walking and i look at him. he is curious. i avert my gaze to the huge landscape.
“what? i want to know.”
he asks the same question again and again. i am irritated by it.
" now! ” i say. “you die now” and i write his name in the last page.
i start walking in agony and he falls down like a dead man. everyone stops for a minute and i show them the name. they nod and keep walking. after some time the man stands up and gingerly comes to me.
“you are wrong. i am not dead.”
“yes, you are.” i show him his name on the last page.
" But..i” he stops talking as everyone ignores him and trove along.
three dead men behind us. i walk along trying to keep my distance from him.
one by one everyone asks if their name is on the list and some of them force me to write it down. they fall down and stand up again walking with the dead. there are only two of us left. we walk in this barren land.
i don’t mind telling them they not dead but i
i write in my book again
a moon and
the man near me stops
“write my name”, he says panting.
“just write it!” he says firmly.
“al-alright”, i say and i write his name. he falls on the ground and stands up to join others.
i walk on ignoring them. i write in the remaining pages
the pages are slowly filling up as I write and overwrite them. I walk alone with these people following me. I write this story for you as i walk slowly. the day grows darker and lighter as time passes by. i don’t know why i am here or where i am. i don’t know how much has passed. i don’t know when i will know the answers to these questions. i still walk as i write. i wait for the pages to get old by writing and overwriting on them. I wait for the last page to come as i will write my name and fall on the ground. I will then stand up and join others. we will again walk unto the barren land under the same sun. we will walk as a ghost or a walking dead.