The Man Who Raced The Death…
And won
The cheery sounds wafted into the dark air of his room. He dragged himself to the window and lifted the curtain, only slightly. Two young women, in full bloom of youth, talking, smiling. An ancient longing for the warmth of touch filled him. Yet, he didn’t move, he kept on looking. Kept on cursing himself. Oh, he still remembered that wretched day when it all began! How long was it? Ages ago …
The drum beats sounded as usual — faint first, then gradually rising. He smiled. Who is going away this time? Of course, the old lady in the next street. Yesterday he was crossing past her house and had heard her wailings. Such obscene cries. He shuddered. Soon it will end. Good for her. He put the pen down on the desk. His revision was going spectacular. He had time. He closed his eyes, concentrating.
The da-dum da-dum da-dum was unmistakable. First slow beatings, then rising crescendo until the beats were just one long continuous beep. That’s when the beats stopped. And someone died.
He remembered the only time he had seen the beats. Two years ago. A man half-crushed by a van lying on the road; a yellowish, sticky, snake-like thing crawling towards his convulsing body. Beats emanated out of the pulsating thing. Then it spread over the man’s body, and the beats stopped. The body of the man became still. Dead.
