"𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙛 𝙄 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙄 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙔𝙤𝙪"
"𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙤𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙤'𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙗𝙚 𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙩"
Krisha, a girl who doesn't even have a single mean cell in her body, a...
It was a truly enchanting morning. The sun shone gently in the sky, its golden rays just beginning to caress the earth, as if attempting to adorn it with a delicate veil of gold. Flowers unfurled their vibrant petals in full bloom, their fragrance mingling with the crisp morning air. Ripe fruits hung invitingly, their rich colors drawing flocks of birds who sang a symphony of chirps—a morning melody that seemed to beckon all to join in nature's feast and savor its delightful bounty.
The river flowed with serene grace, their surface shimmering like blue crystals under the tender embrace of the golden sunrays. The wind danced softly, carrying with it a whisper of affection, kissing everything it touched—the gentle blades of grass along the riverbanks, the flowers, and the trees. As it glided along these tranquil shores, it encountered something—or rather, someone—lying there, still and unconscious. The playful breeze tugged at her hair, brushing it against her face, and with its tender nudge, she began to stir, her eyelids fluttering open as if waking from a deep and distant dream.
Krisha slowly opened her eyes, blinking against the gentle light filtering through the canopy above. She sat up, her gaze sweeping over her surroundings—a forest, but not an overwhelming or dense one. The trees were lush, their branches laden with vibrant fruits and fragrant flowers. The grass beneath her feet was soft and short, almost as if the forest floor had been lovingly tended. The melodic murmur of the nearby river hinted at the answer that it must have carried her here after she lost consciousness.
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Pulling herself up with the support of a nearby tree, she inspected her ankle. The angry blue bruise that had once throbbed painfully was now lighter, and the swelling had mercifully subsided. However relief was short-lived, as confusion quickly replaced it. Her eyes fell on the small idol of Lord Ram in her hands, and a frown creased her brow. Why was she holding this? And why, of all things, was she dressed like a walking advertisement for a Ram Leela production? Her bewildered reflection in the river almost seemed to mock her as she wondered in her mind 'What in the world is going on?'
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She opened her mouth to shout for help, but all that came out was… nothing. Not even the faintest squeak. It was as if her vocal cords had gone on strike. She clutched her throat in disbelief, her wide eyes darting around the empty forest.
