Roll of the Dice.....

A drop of sweat trickles down his forehead. His heart thumps out loud, as he watches the dice tumble to the edge of his table. A part of him wants the dice to fall on six, but the other prays not to. The dice falling on six was no child's play; his last breath depended on the mere fluke of the ignorant dice.

He heaves a sigh of despair. It falls on four, which means a week more to come face-to-face with Death again and its wicked monopoly. Not again, he muttered.



Aki felt depressed. After a miserable career and a failed marriage, he felt monotonous and often suicidal. He found his life to be empty as a thirty-four year old, running behind something that he was expected to run after. Day after day, life became hell and every minute was too painful to endure.


His ears grew accustomed to the announcements at the train line. Earlier, he hardly cared and had went on fidgeting on his phone for the train schedule. But now, his ears intently listened to the precautions while his eyes stared blankly at the tracks, mustering up courage to cross the safety line and take that final plunge. That thought haunted him and slowly sipped on his sane soul.


Everyday, it was a monotonous routine. His house looked like a wretched shack, with socks and laundry scattered all over the room.
It had been ages since he went to work, for he had enveloped himself in his own little cocoon of soft darkness. His was a house no one neither knew nor saw anyone living in there. His mind and thoughts were in tangles, tangles that couldn't possibly be unraveled. His frustration and fury knew no bounds; it often erupted in bewildering episodes.


He tried writing down his feelings to pacify his rage, but the pen had its own plan.

The ink swirled across the paper in spirals and in sharp strokes that went spiking up and stooping down, just like his fluctuating thoughts.

Once the paper had no more room, the tip of his pen stood still at a point, resembling time that had granted itself a pause. The ink blotched on the paper and slowly let itself to get absorbed by the paper. Within minutes, the paper smeared with ink was in ruins, crushed up into a ball.


His mind steadily drifted into a deep slumber. He found himself slipping into a story, a gloomy one. Where all the folks lived in darkness, confusingly dark. As he places his foot forward cautiously, he notices a shady figure right behind him. His gaze fixes firmly on the ground, staring at the shadow, moments before his focus wavers and he starts thinking about something else. As he recollects the incident, he cringes in horror.

"Wait, there's something in its hand, like a dagger!"

He scampers in the darkness, stumbling all the way through cluelessly. The room hollers and bellows, of people weeping and screaming in terror.  After several tense moments, he finds a speck of light, just a speck. A speck of light at a distance. As he darts towards towards it, he realizes that it is a cliff. His foot was on the verge of tripping over the cliff, a missed moment. His head starts spinning and feels nauseous, as he peeps at the depth; delving that deep for such a high price - life?


He bolts awake, with an icky feeling of a hundred slimy worms squiggling on his skin. Filled with disgust, he shook it off vigorously and rubbed against his arms and feet, forgetting that it did not even exist.


                                                                        ~*~
                                                       

It was another Sunday night. This was definitely going to determine his last day alive. For the past six weeks, it seemed as if the number six had been fired from the dice for it never came. It was always some number or the other. After six failed weeks, he decided to give himself a last try.

It was the seventh week, well past his time period. He threw the dice across the table, with no hope. The dice almost landed at four, hovered a bit and landed on six.


Not what he expected.



He took a few deep breaths. This was true. Six.



He was walking down the lane aimlessly. It seemed as if he had a spiritual connect that guided him to, what seemed nowhere. He absentmindedly boarded the bus, with cluttered thoughts leaving no room for common sense. As the bus through the outskirts of the city, his eyes fell on an old building, completely in ruins now. That was where he wanted to take the plunge, where no one would even hear of him.


He climbed the stairs. Every stair was a a step to liberation, or so he thought.

Within minutes, he was already at the terrace. He moved closer to the edge. His heart was racing like never before. He closed his eyes and sent a prayer to his loved one and to the one up above.

Just as he was going to take the leap, he felt a hand on his shoulder.