2 A.M. #Wattys2017#specialawardwinner#iceaward2017

Chapter 11

  I experienced death in a swish of broken wood. My head spun in endanger and I dropped onto the patch of windswept grass, into eternal darkness.

  After for what I assume as a decade, I flutter my eyes open. Body ache gives away the wounded pain. The gash outlining my scalp brings in burning sensation.

  I try to stretch my muscles to remove the stiffness of long time pass out but, I am tied tight to a chair. The chair which seems to be placed in the centre stage of large opera theater. I scan my surroundings in brief. The long red drapes are drawn enough to let the morning light into the hall faintly. It seems foreign to feel the light, even the minimal amount of it. All the stage lights are fallen apart with broken reflectors, signifying the occurrence of disastrous events. The corners and crevices of the stage is having fading dents and scarps of its wood.

  My nose twitches to the decaying smell of the place. Bile rises up to my throat and urges me to throw up. The temperature of my body must have risen bringing me shuddering shivers.

With the unease imposing my physical stature, loud thumps coming from far end,  start to unease my mental ability. My body stiffens harder with every thump getting closer.

  Underneath my bare feet the stage starts to reverberate. A dark form lays a strong hand on my shoulder and squeezes it with vigilance. I shriek out in pain.

" Hello Rohanthan! ", the presence next to me barks out. I try to turn around but, I am scared to death, I am giving up on living.

" Why ain't you speaking betrayer? Haven't you got questions to ask before you are pronounced to hell? ", the presence next to me is a man! The corners of my eyes manages to capture his outline.

" HA HA HA....I feel elated when your brows cry off its sweat beads. That pretty wound on your stupid head..", he presses the wound with probably his fuck finger causing it to deepen and sinking my life out, "lovely isn't it? You will learn what suffering feels like until you breath your last breadth! Reincarnated bastard! ", bombarding roars of his voice pops my balls to my mouth.

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 Unwelcome tears roll down my cheeks. I knew nothing of my ancestors but, these people whom I never dreamt of meeting in my life, knew so much more, so much about who I am.

" What more do you know about Earlson? When you say he was a proclaimer it does mean Rosefeild wasn't his from the beginning right? I-It w-was p-proc-claimed. Was it a war? ", my questions trigger the wisp of air around.

" pwe pdonot pspeak of it plady!, Monsieur psend her pout of pour pteritory pright paway! ", a man of ghostly white appearance walks out from the crowd surrounding me and speaks in a strange accent which closely meant something in English.

The chief sighs hard as though the crowd can feel his breath on their faces. " Yes yes Chi we don't. We don't speak of it young lady, what our ancestors faced in his reign boils our blood. Although we never experienced that pain of our ancestors, the tales of their suffering burns vigilance in us. We would have led a better life if Rosefield wouldn't have been destroyed the way it has been. ", a cryptic feeling passes through my veins.

He continues to speak with hurt and betrayal burning in his eyes, " We have heard of a book being written on earlier Rosefield by a Earlson itself, urgh...the dirty blood, dirty blood ", he shakes his hand as though he had touched world's most impure thing and got stung by it's dirtiness into the depths of his blood.

If these people would get the slightest idea of my last name, I am going to lose my heartbeat in an instant.

Hesitating to speak I ask them a question gulping a lump of saliva, " Have you read that book? Any of you? ".

" Monsieur ptell her pwe pdonot pspeak of psuch pthings pand pdonot pread psuch pthings !!", screams a voice in havoc and worry, which I thought must be of the same man called Chi.

" pwe pagree, pwe pagree!! " supporters prawl out.

My instincts are sure of one thing, the secret of my last name  should be stuck in my throat. Earlsons may or may not be my ancestors but, these people are going to kill me if they get to know about my last name.

" Silence! Call the women and help her get dressed Chi, fend her with food and let her rest for a while. We'll take her to the end of lane connecting to town when darkness recedes. ", the chief's commanding voice ends the discussion.

Few minutes passed in silent demeanour. Tribes exited towards their emo huts. I stood in front of the owl sculpture, still staring into its eyes.

It was hard to digest the facts earned on Earlson's. I remember Joy Sir, he had said I belonged to a royal family. Then it sounded like a joke but, it has some truth in it now. Perhaps it has all the truth in it!

I thought of Rohan, lying dead in some rotting place, the evil grin of cabman bidding him farewell. Perhaps he like these tribes had been a prey of Earlson. Was he taking his revange on Rohan for the same? Perhaps yes!

" perhaps yes! ", I think I spoke my thoughts out loud. The women who had come to help me change were dangling a freshly cut tiger skin in front of me, asking me to put it on, and I had said them yes which I intended for something else. Kate's fashion lessons were going to a dead tiger skin, hurt deters more when I remember Kate. She seems very far now, in a different era.

I pull myself into the skin and hook it up with the help of peanut seeds. A dark haired woman calling herself Prolie helps me fit into leafy breast cover. " Pthese pare pleaves of pgreat palm ptrees. Pour phubs pclimb it phigh pand pcut it pdown. ", she said while helping me into it.

By far I had troubles understanding what these people spoke. It sounded very close to English but, I felt something amiss in their pronunciation. But, I vaguely understood what they spoke.

At the end of my grooming she gave me a sharp stone knife and said, " Pfor Psafety. "

I ran my hands through the outfit to feel how my body fitted in it. They didn't have mirrors. 

I requested Prolie to wait outside.

Once Prolie was out of the muddy door I rush towards the stone table and grab my dad's book. I cut a slit in my tiger skin skirt and tuck the book in it, with knife handle. I ready myself to brisk out of the room and turn to leave.

In an instant of time just when my feet moves an inch I hear a loud screech. I run out of the hut and am terror struck.

The reservation is ablaze!. Men, women and little children are running around in all the directions, fear engulfing them. My eyes search for the cause of the haul. They fix upon the cab at the end of the reservation area. The shabby teeths of its driver crinckels and he mouths, ' GAME ON! '.

  I run towards the cab, pushing the tribal crowd and leftovers of burnt huts. But, the cab drives off into the canopied lane leaving behind a puff of smoke and an evil grin.