Friday, December 01, 2006

An excerpt from the 'Novel' deed.

I completed NaNoWriMo 2006. For winning I got a certificate in pdf form, which is to be printed. And some winner banners that I have put up on the blog. Long way to go though. Planning to print the excerpt on the back of the certificate so that it reminds me of what I have to do :-) The excerpt is below.

Eight Queens

The landscape was serene, reflected by the life that dwelled on it, although transient. The sun had reached its pinnacle, witness to all that was below, the elements in motion, the gentle flutter of flora, complemented with the random movements of the fauna, each in their own world, their actions unconsciously maneuvered by their conscious decision for survival; survival of the fittest, Darwin’s world reliving itself life after life, breathe after breathe, movement after movement, actions from reactions, each one having a subtle effect on the next, randomness in patterns, patterns out of randomness. And in all that randomness trod a wild horse, white as the snow on which it left its ephemeral mark, making itself one with the picture perfect scenery of which is was a welcome guest. It neighed its way through its feeding ritual, cutting its space through the ambience with majestic poise, moving on to the next grazing point when it partially whet its appetite from the flora that had just served its purpose, oblivious of the eyes that followed its profound beauty.

Eyes that blinked with thirst and hunger; eyes that had grown wary of the promises of life and the living of it; eyes that lay in ambush with a fixated gaze that was as tranquilizing to the flesh as a profane thought was to your dignity; flesh the object of desire that sparked off the covert behaviour. The beauty of the majestic beast was almost resonating; before it was transformed through the need for survival in the eyes of the beholder as yet another stepping stone on the road to El Dorado. At first there was hesitation as to whether this ghost deserved to be relieved of its beautiful body, the very sight of it satiating the hunger of the senses, but reality can’t survive on thoughts alone, the heart was willing to defer its verdict but the mind was playing games, vehemently advocating its case in the court of conscience, pushing rational ahead in the light of current circumstances, the jury unanimous in its decision.

Survival of the fittest, that very thought transformed itself through the senses into outward actions that manifested itself in the lifting of a gun in stealth mode, all senses focused on the impending action to be performed. It was a sacrifice the soul was willing to make, the sacrificial lamb on the altar of the Gods of hunger and the need for survival. The sanctity of the mountain was to be desecrated by the blood of an innocent for the sake of another and there was nothing anyone could do about it, not the Gods, no one; everything around, living and dead would soon be witness to this act as the sound of nature’s laws would soon resonate. The bullet would rip through the personal space of the animal that it thought was its own and it would catch it unaware; too quick to respond to the warnings that travel through space and time.

Was there really nothing anyone could do to stop this act; not even the Gods. Blood would permeate its way through the white snow and the episode would soon be forgotten as nature taking its natural course. The winds then took the smell of death to the senses of the white horse, as it twitched its head in the direction of danger and froze in its stance, making contact with its soon to be assassin; eyes locked and perceptions of life were exchanged, anxiety and opportunity meeting somewhere in between, giving rise to a plethora of emotions locked inside Pandora’s box. As the first pearl of sweat found its way through his pores and down his brow, silently awaiting its final decent to coalesce with the snow below his feet, his finger finally made contact with the trigger and the mind gave a go ahead, with doubts still lurking in the shadows. That moment etched in time was to decide the fate not just of one soul but of two. As he raised his spirit to deliver the coup de grace, a voice was heard in the background, “Let it live. It need not die so that we can live.”

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