HOSAKI : THE THIRD WORLD

CHAPTER 1

"IT IS SO GREAT A RELIEF TO BE FREE. ALL MY DREAMS COULD NOT BE FULFILLED IN THIS SHORT LIFE AND I TRIED MY BEST TO ACHIEVE WHAT I WANTEDBUT I COULDN'T, SO I AM COMMITING SUICIDE ON ACCOUNT OF MY FAILURE IN LIFE. I HOLD NO ONE GUILTY FOR MY DEATH . . . ."

And he tore it apart. Robert, writer by profession and a fighter by passion, could not find words to write. He had decided to keep this short but falling short of words, he slipped the torn paper in the drawer of his writing table, where a few more papers were lying, all containing the same theme of writing.

Feeling dejected at his failed attempt, he lifted the glass and let his mind drift apart. His mind wandered to the point where it all had started. "I won it MOM. I actually did it. I won 1st prize in story writing competition." beamed a young and rather active Robert. "Well done my boy! Very Good! I just want to see you become a famous writer someday." Those words were the first words of praises for Robert from his mother. His father was a Major in the army and wanted his son to take up his place someday. Robert tried very hard to cope up with his father's training schedule but he failed each and everyday. His father would make him run for hours, ask him to do pushups, pull ups, squats and lot more. He would be seen more dead than alive at the end of the day. His mother would never say a word, neither for nor against his training. When he would complain, she would simply say, "It is for your good Robert." and put him to sleep. At the age of 17, he had a rather well built body for an average 17 year boy. His muscles were rippling out and he had got packs to boast about, all thanks to his father.

Then it happened. His mom and dad were driving home late from a party and had accidently fallen off from a cliff, that's what the reports told next morning. He could not get over the feeling of losing his mother and father to whom he owed so much. He wanted his mother to see him get successful. He wanted to make the lives of his family comfortable.

He then decided that he would follow his mother's dream and would become a professional writer. He had studied classical languages very hard and understood their rules very well. He then started to write stories for a magazine called 'PRIDE TROOPERS' whose majority readers were school going children. It was during this period when he got a call from Peter Gill, a friend of Robert who asked him to write a thriller to give the readers chills down their spine as his own personal property. He asked Robert to write a book of his own and not just for some magazines. He wrote one and tried to find a publisher for the book to be published. He didn't get a single. He was turned down by each and every publisher he met. His book went unpublished. Later, he wrote many, but to his utter dismay, all of them went unpublished. Only one amongst them was lucky enough to find the light of the day but could not live in it for long. His only published book was not a great success and not much copies of it were sold.

Out of depression, he started drinking and would spend hours drinking. All sense of time would be lost once he sat down with his drinks. It was during one of his drinks that he came across an article on internet that told something about life after death which he did not understand quite well at that time. So he bookmarked the page and went to sleep. When he woke, the first thing he did was to check out his bookmarked page. He then read, and reread it. He could not believe what he read. He instantly felt lucky. From that day on, he had started writing his suicide note, but failing again and again. Then he decided that he could no longer take it and thought that it did not care to the general public whether he lived or not. So he found a knife on his kitchen table. He took it near his nerve and a tingling feeling in his throat told him not to do this foolishness. He even thought that he had no physical evidence that life really existed after death. But he was so fed up with his current life that he could not stop his hands. The next thing he saw was that a pool of blood was starting to get formed around him. Blackness started to spread across his eyes and then it came, his last breath on earth.