Image by Pratheek Rao

Midday drizzle

Exploded to torrential ripples

The air was brimming trouble

When instead of ripples

Down poured cinder people

Faceless with eyes like flaring spirals

Eyes that cascade you down to a timeless capsule

It rained and rained of cinder people.

Pelting down in thousands

As townsfolk run rampant.

Amidst the towering unknown,

Clutching cell phones, crawling on flagstones.

Hysterical, scramble, gabble, immobile.

‘What in the name of the devil??’

‘What the fuck are them people??’

Some jostled to safer sides

Some cowered and cried.

Clamped hands held bats and rakes,

Cleavers, racquets and hatchets.

Mortals aggregate.

Awaiting a move, a reaction.

To slice them aliens into ribbons.

Each festered a fear subliminal.

But in vain, the cinders only

Stared and stared……

Unflinching forward or backward.

With stares so nebulous,

Thrusting into bodies so conscious.

Digging to find the meaning of sentience.

That was the noon when fear was tangible.

Fear to the unfelt is a feeling that is cardinal.

The sun’s faint glimmer,

Was the end of the unfamiliar

Their bodies brought down to simmer.

Mortal stares of stupor met with

Thousands of hollow stares as they trickled

down the drain into Black Black puddles.

2 responses to “Cinders”

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