Fury in Trance

By Ahamed Ali Khan

During a strange spiritual rite for those seeking enlightenment, Leevon loses sight of his pregnant wife. The rite becomes chaotic. People pour into the small space of worship, and insanity ensues. Eventually, amidst the anarchy, Leevon finds his wife. Although she is dead, she has given birth to a childa child who weeps in the darkness of a new world.

The loss of his wife catapults Leevon into a mysterious state of fury. His eyes turn red, and he actually injures his own offspring. His strange behavior lands him in a mental institution, where he cries out to God for answers. Good and bad guards surround him, aware of his strange behavioral changes and become good at keeping their distance.

However, as Leevon slips in and out of madness, it seems he is pulling the guards into whatever is happening to his mind. The world becomes confusing, dark, and frightening, and Leevon yearns for his lost child. Meanwhile, his captors yearn for the anecdote to his illness, which seems to creep around them like an air-born disease. Will Leevon learn to navigate the mystery that is his fury, or will he be lost, along with those around him?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Singapore
• Release date: Jun 9, 2016
• ISBN: 9781482865868

Ahamed Ali Khan

Ahamed Ali Khan lives in Singapore. He works as a stage and television actor. With the ability to speak English, Malay, and Tamil, he has appeared in many local dramas, as well as TV commercials. This is his third book.

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Copyright © 2016 by Ahamed Ali Khan.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

THE AUTHOR HAS REQUESTED THAT THIS BOOK SHOULD BE PUBLISHED AS AN UN-EDITED VERSION. THE CONTENTS, COVER PAGE AND ALL WRITTEN MATERIAL RECEIVED IS PURELY FROM THE AUTHOR HIMSELF. THE PUBLISHER TAKES NO RESPONSIBILITY WITH REGARD TO ERRORS FOUND WITHIN THIS BOOK.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

www.partridgepublishing.com/singapore

The sound of footsteps could be heard!

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He opened his eyes – as blood trickled down his forehead and stomach, he looked around him –

‘MY WIFE! MY WIFE! WHERE IS MY WIFE!’ he shouted.

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Again! The sound of footsteps – they echoed!

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Rain was pouring, as the crowd, which had gathered for the annual ritual, swelled to fifty thousand, with more making their way to the final destination – the Temple, where devotees need to pray, before the ‘Large Spikes and Hooks’, which pierced the skin of the devotees, are removed.

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It was getting closer – the echoing sound of footsteps!

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He tried moving as fast as he could, but was prevented by the crowd. Some of the devotees were in a trance, as they turned around in circles. Those crowding around the ‘devotees in trance’, had to move, giving them space to ‘dance’. With some of the devotees going down on their knees, no one would know when a devotee would get up -- if he does, he would do so suddenly —

‘Artee!’ he called out. ‘Artee!’

NO ONE RESPONDED!

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The sound of footsteps stopped – then, again, it started, but this time, the footsteps could be heard going towards the opposite direction!

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‘HAVE YOU SEEN A – A – PREGNANT WOMAN?’ he shouted at the top of his voice.

‘NO!’

No! No one, including the police, could control the crowd. The organizing committee had never expected such a large turnout!

The next moment, he was pushed. As he fell to the ground, he could feel the body of another pressing hard onto him – he could not breathe –

‘AAAHHHHH!’ he shouted, and as he shivered in anger, he could feel that he was not in control of his physical self!

He was biting his tongue which was folded inwards, and as if some form of ‘supernatural strength’, had gotten into him, he pushed the ‘weight’ away from him, and got up!

The people around him moved, and started shouting!

IT WAS FURY– ‘BURNING’ WITHIN HIM!

About fifty meters away from him, there was a stampede, as people, tried to enter the temple. Members of the temple committee, decided it would be better to close the doors, and allow those inside to leave, before re-opening it.

THAT WAS A MISTAKE!

When the crowd realized that the door was about to be closed, they rushed in!

The ‘pregnant woman’ he was looking for, was one of those, just lying there, moving only when someone stepped onto her.

Amidst the chaos, the sound of a baby crying. Those around her moved immediately, forming a human chain.

One lady among the crowd, unfolded a long piece of cloth she had brought along. It aided in ‘sheltering’ the woman whose baby cried for the very first time.

Only the baby could be saved!

He heard the cries of a baby – he ran towards it. Now he was in total control of himself, as the FURY within him ‘disappeared’ when he heard his child, the newborn baby cry out loud. Then, as soon as he had ‘cooled’ down, he looked at his wife – a lifeless being just lying there.

Another lady who wanted a string to tie around the umbilical cord, had no choice but to tear a thin length of cloth from the same fabric which formed as a ‘shelter’, and made it go around the umbilical cord, and then with a swift movement of her fingers, tied a knot just a few inches from the skin of the baby’s stomach. As soon as she did that, she moved both her index fingers in a circular motion, to allow the umbilical cord to twirl around them. Once she felt the ‘tension’, with a quick jerk, ‘detached’ the umbilical cord.

The blood which spurted from the ‘breaking point’, hit his face. He could feel the warmth of that blood – then seconds later it turned cold. He dropped to his knees, kissed his wife’s forehead and cried out loudly!

‘Your baby here – Bring your baby to the hospital –,’ The lady who had ‘detached’ the umbilical cord said, as she held the baby and bent a little, to allow him to take.

The FURY WITHIN, started to burn again. He looked around him – at the people – YES! THE PEOPLE AROUND HIM – ‘THEY ARE ALL RESPONSIBLE FOR MY WIFE’S DEATH!’ he shouted as he looked at the lady who held his child.

The lady who held the baby noticed his eyes – they were red, and they darted from left to right – HE DID NOT LOOK ‘NORMAL’. IT WAS AS IF HE WAS IN A TRANCE!

‘He is not in a position to take care of the baby now!’ the lady who was holding on to the baby said very loudly as she looked at the faces which were staring at her. She was expecting someone to come forward to help her or to assist her – IN ANY WAY! IN ANY WAY!

NONE OF THEM CAME FORWARD!

‘THEY ARE ALL RESPONSIBLE FOR MY WIFE’S DEATH!’ he shouted again. ‘GIVE ME MY BABY! GIVE ME MY BABY!’ he shouted at the top of his voice.

The lady, who was holding on to his child, moved a step backwards, and as she moved away, she brought the baby nearer to her chest – the back of the baby was exposed…

‘GIVE ME MY BABY! GIVE ME MY BABY!’ he shouted, and stretched his hand to reach out…

Just when his fingers touched the back of the baby’s neck, she pulled away, fearing that he might hurt the baby-

In his desperate attempt to touch his child for the very first time, he had stiffened his fingers, and when the lady moved the baby away from him, his finger nails punctured the soft skin at the back of the baby’s neck. The soft skin, which ‘tore off’, got stuck to his fingernails!

The baby cried in pain.

He looked at his fingers, and then his child – the baby.

The lady who held on to the baby was really frightened he might hurt the baby – a poor innocent being –

‘GOD! PLEASE HELP THE CHILD!’ she shouted.

The other woman who had assisted in providing the long piece of cloth to ‘shelter’ the pregnant woman, moved forward and said, ‘Don’t worry, I will help you….’

‘THEY ARE ALL RESPONSIBLE FOR MY WIFE’S DEATH!’ he shouted again, and then started to turn, with his arms spread outwards – it was a violent movement – his body going round in a circular manner, as he bit his tongue and breathed heavily – his eyes, red with anger!

Suddenly, another man among the onlookers, started to shake violently, and it was apparent that he too was in a trance – the people around him moved and some of them fell to the ground which was slippery. The rain continued to pour.

The crowd panicked, and the people just rushed outwards – to move away – away yes, but they were not ready to leave the premises- they wanted to be part of this ‘phenomenal’ so called ‘spiritual’ venue where many have testified that the spiritual strength they have gained, was something which is beyond explanation –

‘You have to feel it for yourself,’ they have ‘testified’ again and again!

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Again the sound of footsteps – this time it was faster!

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THE STRENGTH HE HAD ‘ACQUIRED’ WAS INDEED PHENOMENAL – NO ONE COULD STOP HIM!

The crowd dispersed in all directions, causing another stampede. He fell to the ground, and as others fell onto him, he could feel someone kicking him – REALLY HARD –

No! He could not feel anything – There was no pain –

Then, as the ‘blows’ landed, one after another in quick succession, he felt the pain…

‘AAAHHHH!’ he shouted…

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The sound of footsteps stopped and he could hear - the padlock – then the latch – sound of iron rubbing against iron and then – the kicks – the pain – PAIN! PAIN!

‘AAAHHHH!’ he shouted as he curled his body to avoid the blows…

WATER! Ice cold water was splashed onto him, and he shivered – in pain and in coldness…

‘SHUT UP! I SAY SHUT UP!’ the booming voice of the guard could be heard echoing around him, as he lay crying in pain.

And then… Total darkness, as his eyes shut automatically.

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He opened his eyes and looked around him cold and hungry.

‘Here! Change into this and have your meal!’ the booming voice of the guard…

He looked up at the figure – he had to obey… Otherwise the boots worn by the guard, would find its target.

‘NOW!’

A kick on the shoulder!

‘AAHH!!’ he shouted as he felt the pain.

The guard placed the plastic plate with the egg sandwiches in it, on the floor, and at the same time, gave him a plastic cup filled with tea. Once the inmate finishes the meal, the plastic plate and cup, must be removed – nothing can be kept by the ‘inmate’, whose fingers looked as if they were ‘painted’.

Each time he looked at his ‘painted’ fingers, he would recall the day when his baby’s flesh got stuck to the nails, and his baby cried in pain… In pain… IN PAIN… IN PAIN!

Suddenly, he stood up and then with his eye-balls moving from left to right in quick motion, started to turn –

‘SIT DOWN! I SAID SIT DOWN!’

The guard kicked him hard on the stomach – he did not feel the pain, as he turned around in a violent manner!

The guard had no choice. He pulled out the ‘pepper spray’, and sprayed right into the eyes….

When he bent a little, the guard forced a hard blow on the back, making him drop to the ground…

The burning pain in his eyes prevented him from opening them…

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After a recent transfer into the Mental Institution, the new guard had taken over the shift duties of another who had retired. His predecessor had studied the ‘inmate’s ‘pattern of behavior’, and had warned him.

‘He would be violent in his movement, and occasionally, shake the iron bars, but there was never a moment where he would force himself or hit himself against the steel bars of the ‘cage’, since the day he had a mental breakdown, and was brought into the institution…’

THAT WAS TWENTY YEARS AGO, AND THE BURNING FURY WITHIN HIM WOULD LEAD TO A TRANCE TRIGGERED BY THE THOUGHTS OF A MOTIONLESS LADY – HIS WIFE – AND A LITTLE BEING – HIS BLOOD AND FLESH!

Just after taking over, he once asked the inmate, when he appeared to be ‘normal’, or rather, when he was not in a trance – ‘You seem to be very careful not to injure yourself. What is stopping you? Why don’t you hit yourself on the head, or bang your head against the iron bars… And bleed to death? At least I don’t have to keep an eye on you… Yeah! I have come across many mental patients, but none like you… NONE LIKE YOU!’

The inmate inside the cell, did not answer the guard.

‘Tell me. Why is it that you go into a trance and move in a violent manner, biting your tongue and… your eyes… I can tell you, even the evil spirits will run away because they will be scared to death. Tell me!’

Again there was silence.

‘TELL ME!’

‘I think of my baby Sir. I do not want to hurt her in any way. I can picture her right in front of me, and I do not want to hurt her anymore – I had only wanted to touch her, but my fingernails…,’ he looked at his hands and started to cry, as he shook his head.

The guard learnt that anything which reminded him of the past, especially the sadness and the anger which followed – seeing his baby being taken away from him, and his wife lying motionless, would trigger a violent movement of his body, which he knew, he was not in control of that FURY IN TRANCE!

One of the things he could remember from the past is an area, his favorite ‘spot’ where he would spend long hours writing – AND YES! The only people who keep coming back to his mind – HIS WIFE – HIS BABY – THE WOMAN WHO CARRIED HIS BABY AWAY FROM HIM – THE FACES AROUND HIM – before he blacked out…

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‘You know what you are going to write today?’ the guard asked as he gave him the blue crayon stick and a large sheet of paper…..

He could not open his eyes – it was still burning inside. When he felt the paper brushing against his palm, he grabbed it.

Once he gets his writing material, he would start writing – and when he wrote, it was as if he is not an inmate of the Institution but the well-known author, who captured the hearts and minds of people who read his stories…

People, only a handful of them, who have read his stories, would know him… But the guard standing right in front –

‘I don’t know who the hell this guy is. I don’t have the time to read such stories. It is work and then home – go back have a good rest, then the next day, it is work again…,’ the guard had told his predecessor.

‘Your life will be easy, if you give him some writing material. He will keep writing and writing, and what I will do is burn them at the end of the day – you see – he will not disturb you when he writes, and you can rest,’ that was a valuable piece of advice his predecessor had given.

Whenever he is on duty, he would give the ‘inmate’ a large sheet of paper, and crayon to write-

‘No pencil or ball-point pen to be given to inmates!’ all guards were warned. ‘They can use it as weapons to injure themselves, or they may even use it against us.’

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‘You know what you are going to write today?’ the guard asked him again.

He nodded.

‘ANSWER ME!’ the guard shouted as he kicked the back of the inmate’s thigh.

‘YES!’ the inmate replied loudly, trying hard to open his eyes, which were wet with tears due to the ‘burning ingredient’ inside them.

‘OKAY!’

The sound of footsteps could be heard moving away – the iron door closing – the lock…

He could now open his eyes, but for a short while, and then shut them again. He looked at the pressed attire left by the guard. He removed his wet attire, and put on the dry ones.

This is nice, I am not cold anymore. He said to himself.

He placed the large sheet of paper, on the floor, and with the crayon stick he was given, he started his ‘journey of writing’ once again—

[‘God! God who brought me into this world! With flesh and blood and painful tears. Please take the pain away – painful thoughts of my child – my only child – I yearn to see her,’ he cried and cried, but no one could hear him – ‘God! Can you hear me?’ he asked as he looked up……]

Four hours of thinking and writing at the same time – it was not a problem for him. He had every detail, the plot, the climax, the ending, and it was something he was always comfortable doing it – over and over again – there was always a deep, very deep sense of satisfaction, as if he was pouring out everything from the bottom of his heart – and yet there was more to ‘pour out’.

For a moment he stopped writing, and glanced towards where the guard would usually rest. The guard was not there.

He continued…

[And as the forces of nature ‘scraped’ the last bit of life he had, he turned to look at the little being and for the first time he acknowledged, ‘The smile I see in my wife – can only be copied by a being from her womb….’]

He stopped for a while, and clenched his fist – the muscles were aching, but he was not going to stop…

He could hear the sound of footsteps. His fingers could no longer grip the little bit of crayon, which had ‘eroded’ due to perspiration and the constant movement of it against the big, white sheet of paper. As it rolled away from him, he did not make an effort to pick it up…

The sound of footsteps stopped and he could hear - the padlock – then the latch – sound of iron rubbing against iron and then…

‘WAKE UP! I SAID WAKE UP!’ the booming voice of the guard.

He opened his eyes –

‘I am leaving now, and I want you to behave – no more going into a trance. You understand?’

He nodded as he got up.

‘ANSWER ME!’

‘Yes Sir!’

‘Good. Now if I hear any complaints when I take over tomorrow… YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN… RIGHT?’

‘Yes Sir.’

‘Now give me that rubbish you have written, and wait for your next meal. Remember not to trouble the guard on duty. You understand?’

‘Yes Sir,’ he answered as he handed over the piece of paper.

Each word he had written, each sentence he had constructed, each paragraph he had ‘poured out’, it was all with a strong sense of feeling, and desire – a desire he put it in such a manner, any reader would know that the writer was definitely searching for ‘someone’ he had lost… ‘someone’… ‘someone’ who had the ‘power’ to bring that ‘desire to live’, back into his ‘betrayed life’ –

AND HE CALLS IT RUBBISH!

As the guard turned to walk out, he could feel his limbs weakening…

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‘Ezeez!’ the guard called out to his son.

‘Yes, Dad.’

‘I was in a hurry earlier on. Just tear this piece of ‘rubbish’, and throw it away,’ the guard said as he handed over the piece of paper he had received from the ‘author in the cell’.

‘Okay, Dad,’ Ezeez, his son said, as he took the piece of ‘rubbish’, and headed towards his room.

The guard had totally forgotten about the piece of paper he called ‘rubbish’. He was supposed to burn it before he left, Solitary, but…

‘I just forgot about burning it… Don’t forget okay?’ he reminded his son.

‘Okay, Dad,’ Ezeez answered as he started reading what his father called, ‘rubbish’…

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‘Leevon! Leevon! You okay?’ Segaadner, the guard who had taken over the shift duty, called out.

He opened his eyes. He knew very well that Mr. Segaadner, the other guard on duty, was nice, kind at heart…

I always thank god for giving me the peace of mind, when you are on duty. He had always wanted to tell Segaadner, but something stopped him – What if he tells the other guard – No! It is okay, I’ll keep it to myself.

‘Leevon!’

‘Yes Sir, I am okay,’ he replied in a weak manner.

‘After you have your meal, I will give you a piece of paper for you to write on. I will then go on my rounds to the other blocks, while you write. Okay?’

‘Yes Sir, and thank you,’ he said.

He took the paper plate – it was rice and boneless fish cooked in black soya sauce. Together with it, a plastic cup filled with orange soda, something which he considered a ‘luxury’ he got, only when Segaadner is on duty. Occasionally, a plastic bowl filled with dessert.

‘And yes, you can have my dessert too, I don’t want it,’ Segaadner said, just when Leevon thought about something sweet.

He smiled – ‘Thank you God! Thank you,’ he said to himself. ‘I did not ask to be left here. Why am I here? Why? Is it because I cannot control the anger within me, which ignites the SPARK! THE FURY WHICH GOES OUT OF CONTROL AND FORCES ME TO…?’

‘LEEVON! LEEVON! NO NOT NOW! OKAY? NOT NOW!’

Segaadner knew it was coming when he noticed Leevon’s eyeballs…

He bit his tongue and started to breathe heavily…

‘Not now okay,’ Segaadner said slowly, as if he would talk to a child to pacify him.

He heard Segaadner – THAT BURNING FURY WITHIN HIM, HAD NOT TAKEN CONTROL OF HIS MIND… NOT YET!

‘Look, I want you to be good. Okay, just be good… Relax… Yes…. That’s the way, yes that’s the way,’ Segaadner continued as if he is a ringmaster, talking to an animal being trained to perform…

He closed his eyes. He closed them hard, as he pressed his eyelids, and forced them to remain close…

Segaadner’s way of handling this man – well, he had never, never, used force. It was just talking – always talking to him in a very nice manner, especially when he could sense it coming – the fury – which will take control of his mind, and in seconds, Leevon would start to bite his tongue… His eyes not focused, his head… SHAKING VIOLENTLY – THE FURY WITHIN, WHICH FORCES HIM TO GO INTO A TRANCE…

Leevon opened his eyes. He could feel the strain – the muscles around his eyes – they ached. He placed his fingers over them, as if to massage the affected area.

‘You feel better now?’ Segaadner asked him.

‘Yes Sir.’

‘Take it easy, okay. Relax,’ Segaadner observed him. ‘Okay, finish your meal and then start writing. You will feel better – Right?’

He nodded.

Segaadner waited for him to finish. Once he was done, Segaadner gave him the piece of paper and a crayon stick.

‘I will come back later,’ Segaadner said as he walked away to make his rounds.

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Segaadner came in a few weeks after De Raad had joined as a security guard at the institute – in the eyes of Leevon, De Raad is ‘THE FIERCE ONE’. Leevon was always afraid of him.

Just like De Raad, Segaadner had studied Leevon’s pattern of behavior, and knew that the violent movement – when he went into a trance – would last a few minutes. He had always told himself that he would only handle Leevon physically, if he thought that Leevon would injure himself.

Leevon did not have any other sickness or medical condition which required regular attention. Twenty years ago, when he was ‘admitted’, he would be given jabs, just to ‘calm’ him, whenever he turned round in circles, in a violent manner, biting his tongue, and breathing hard…

As soon as it became obvious that it was sort of a ‘regular’ pattern, the doctors stopped giving him the jabs. He was placed in a block, away from the rest of the inmates. The guards were the only ones allowed inside that block, apart from the doctor and nurses who perform medical checks on a regular basis.

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‘Dad! Dad!’ Ezeez shouted from inside.

‘Yes! What is it?’ his father who was having his meal, asked.

‘Dad! Do you really want me to throw this away?’ his son asked.

‘Yes! Of course!’ De Raad said as he looked at his son who came out of his room, holding the piece of ‘rubbish’.

‘Dad, is it okay if I ask who wrote this?’

‘Yes! One damn inmate… Who would keep writing and writing until he dropped dead, or if he feels there is no more space… Or… Or… If he cannot hold on to the crayon stick anymore, because it is too short…,’ De Raad laughed.

‘Dad! Have you ever read this, I mean, read what is written on this piece of paper?’

‘No! But I know it is a whole load of RUBBISH!’ De Raad answered as he chewed on his food.

‘Dad! I suppose you have not read it…. That’s why you call it ‘rubbish’. I… I… hope…,’ Ezeez hesitated for a moment. He was about to ask something…

‘Just tear it into pieces and throw it away… You understand?’ De Raad was getting angry.

‘Just a minute, Dad. Do you always throw them away? Whatever this inmate writes?’

‘I don’t throw them… I BURN THEM!’ De Raad was furious.

He got up and tried to snatch the paper from his son.

‘Dad, if I were you, I will not destroy this. I will… I will… compile it,’ Ezeez said as he took a step backwards.

‘What are you saying?’ De Raad asked as he stared at his son.

‘Dad! Do you know that this is ‘good stuff’ you have here? Do you know what exactly you are throwing away? I mean what you burn? I don’t know about what you have ‘destroyed’…,’ Ezeez was about to continue…

‘Give me that ‘rubbish’… I will do it myself,’ De Raad tried once again to take it away.

‘Dad! Wait! Do you know that this is a good story which has been written – a complete story?’ Ezeez said, hoping, that would stop his father from taking the ‘rubbish’ and destroying it.

‘You mean to say you have read it?’

‘Yes! And it is a beautiful story,’ Ezeez wanted his father to know that the story is something worth reading, and not ‘rubbish’.

‘Okay! It’s a beautiful story, and you have read it… Okay then, tear it, throw it away!’ his father said angrily.

Ezeez looked at his father. He was reluctant to destroy it.

‘Dad, please allow me to keep it. I will not show it to anyone, if that is what you fear,’ Ezeez said as he walked towards his room.

‘Okay! Keep it… Or hide it… I don’t want to see it anymore, you understand?’

Ezeez entered his own room. I’ll talk to him later. He said to himself.

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‘What have you written?’ Segaadner asked as if he was talking to a small boy.

Leevon showed him the piece of paper.

‘Wow! That is great,’ Segaadner exclaimed, showing some excitement.

Those were the encouraging words he always used, although he does not read the stories.

‘Have you finished?’

‘No Sir. I have two more paragraphs to go,’ Leevon said, and started writing again.

‘Good. Here, take this,’ Segaadner gave him a plastic cup filled with orange soda.

‘Thank you,’ Leevon replied, and continued his ‘journey of writing’…

[The strong wind, which blew from the east, forced the air on the surface of the water to alter its course, and in the process rip apart the dam, which took hours to build. That dam would have channeled a small stream of water, which would have carried the food they need. Just above the ‘dam’, twigs would have been placed neatly, so that they can hide, as well as take shelter… NOW IT WAS ALL GONE.

The otter stared at the floating branches, and waited for the storm to pass.]

He had completed yet another story.

Just like the ‘dam’ which was built by the ‘otter’ in his story, and eventually destroyed by the storm, he did not know that the story he had just written, would be destroyed… NOT BY THE FORCES OF NATURE, BUT BY…

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‘Dad, are you still angry?’

His father kept quiet.

‘Dad, all I wanted to say is that the story which was written by the inmate is too good to be destroyed. You know what I mean?’

‘I think you are relating this to the wrong person. I don’t read such stuff,’ his father said, and walked towards his bedroom.

Ezeez wanted to talk.

‘Dad, is it okay if I ask you to bring the stories written by this inmate? Do not destroy them.’

‘Are you really serious about wanting to have them?’

‘Yes.’

There was a moment of silence….

‘Okay! I’ll bring them back for you.’

Ezeez smiled, ‘Thank you Dad.’

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‘Did he write anything yesterday?’ De Raad, asked when he stepped in to take over the duties from Segaadner.

‘Yes.’

‘You have it with you?’ De Raad asked.

‘No! I have burnt it to ashes,’ Segaadner whispered, so as not to let Leevon hear him.

‘Next time, don’t burn it,’ De Raad said as he sat down.

‘Why? I thought we are supposed to destroy all the stories written by him.’

‘Well, it’s my son. He wants it,’ De Raad replied.

‘Your son! You mean he likes to read them?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay, I’ll keep it for you,’ Segaadner said, and started to walk away, with a heavy heart…

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Indeed, it was with a heavy heart that Segaadner left.

De Raad’s son wants the stories written by Leevon? Does that mean that De Raad would be furious if Leevon could not write or finish a story?

What if De Raad is not able to get the story or stories? Is he going to ‘PUNISH’ Leevon?

Segaadner’s mind was filled with thoughts, as he shook his head…

GOD! PLEASE HELP LEEVON!

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‘You saw the posting on the net?’ Loretta asked her classmates, as they gathered during the break.

‘Which one?’ Zack asked.

‘The guy who calls himself DIAMOND SHOULDER?’ Loretta replied.

‘The one who has his own blog page inviting comments on politicians around the world?’ Harry asked.

Reozeeya wasn’t really paying attention.

‘What did he write this time?’ Grace asked.

This time Reozeeya looked at Loretta. She too wanted to know.

‘Well, it is a beautiful story, of having lost someone,’ Loretta replied. ‘It is a very touching story and you must read it,’ she continued.

Reozeeya looked at Loretta.

‘When was it posted?’ Reozeeya asked.

‘Just about an hour ago,’ Loretta replied.

‘I follow this person’s comment and postings on the net you know,’ Reozeeya said. ‘I’ll go and read it later,’ she continued.

Reozeeya had posted her comments many times, when she visited the blog page started by someone whose blog name is DIAMOND SHOULDER. It has been just comments on politicians around the world – sort of a gossip page.

This time he wrote something touching? She asked herself, as she made her way home, eager to read that ‘touching story’…

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For the first time, De Raad felt that he should ask the inmate, Leevon, if he could recall what he had written, when Segaadner was on duty – SOMETHING HE HAD NEVER DONE BEFORE…

‘Can you recall what you wrote when the other guard was here?’ De Raad asked, in his usual loud tone.

Leevon did not answer. He was not sure if he heard it correctly, because this is the first time De Raad…

‘ANSWER ME!’

‘Yes, sir, I can recall… Yes, sir, I can recall… Yes, sir…,’ Leevon shivered a little, fearing that he will be hit…

‘Good! I want you to re-write it – every single word, from the start to the end… YOU GOT IT?’

‘Yes, sir… from the START TO THE END… Yes, sir… from the START TO THE END…’

The images – they appeared once again… His wife – lifeless….. His baby… The flesh, which got stuck to his fingernails, when he tried to reach her… The blood… THE ANGER! THE ANGER!

He breathed heavily, and bit his tongue, as his arms were spread and he started to turn in circles… his eyes… his bloodshot eyes moving… THAT FURY IN TRANCE!

‘NOT NOW! STOP IT!’

He felt something hitting him… NO! HE DID NOT FEEL ANY PAIN! The blows landed in quick succession…

‘STOP IT! I SAY STOP IT!’

He bent a little, and then dropped to the floor.

‘YES! THAT’S IT! YOU BETTER BE GOOD!’ De Raad said as he left him lying on the floor.

De Raad stepped out to take the piece of paper which was ‘reserved’ for the ‘writer’. He then turned around.

I’ll let him rest a little before I give it to him. De Raad said to himself, as he pulled the metal door and locked it…

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Reozeeya had read the story posted on the net by DIAMOND SHOULDER. It was indeed a sad story – but…

Why such an emotional story, without any hint of its ‘appearance’ on the internet? She asked herself.

‘Reozeeya!’ her mother called.

‘Coming!’ she replied as she logged off.

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It has been just thirty minutes after he experienced the FURY IN TRANCE. Leevon opened his eyes. He felt a little tired – it was ‘normal’ for him to feel such, after each ‘violent movement’…

The sound of footsteps could be heard. He knew ‘the fierce guard’ was coming. He stood up, waiting for instructions from the ‘the fierce guard’…

‘YOU OKAY, NOW?’

‘Yes Sir,’ Leevon replied.

‘GOOD! Here, take this and write down the same, and I mean ‘THE SAME STORY!’ you wrote earlier. You got it?’

‘Yes Sir, I will,’

Leevon received the writing material and started his ‘journey of writing’ once again… but this was the first time he had to recall what he had written a ‘short while ago’… It was easy…

‘I’ll be back later,’ De Raad said as he turned to leave.

The author continued his ‘journey’…

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‘You read the story by DIAMOND SHOULDER?’ Loretta asked when they met during the break.

‘Yes,’ Reozeeya replied.

‘You posted any comments?’ Grace asked.

‘No, I did not post any comments. It’s just that I never thought he would write such a story. You know, he is always posting comments and sometimes rude remarks on politicians… and I am really… I don’t know, but I feel that he should have given us a hint that he is a writer of such stories, before posting it… and…,’ Reozeeya stopped for a moment…

‘Well, I don’t agree with you. Maybe he wanted to surprise the other bloggers with the stories he had,’ Grace said.

‘I agree with Reo,’ Zack said. ‘If you have such articles, you would want to post them on the net, not the whole article, but a part of it, to let the readers know what to