Freak-Dom!!!

And there he was. Right behind my gasping self. I could sense that warm moist exhale on my neck, almost feel his clutches on my back. My last escape-route had been cut off, I was doomed. He sprung on me.....

Born into a mechanized world who ranted and raved at the hoopla of independence, I was and I still am one of them; the everyday beings. More so, in the seeming perfect world, I was termed an 'imperfection'. It was the same everyday that some lived to see another day while others conked out. They call it the vicious cycle of life, a free life has repercussions. That is, unless restricted, freedoms converge destructively. But then, restrictions lie contradictory to freedom. A restriction for one turned out to be a freedom for another. Being quotidian by our very nature, we accepted it. Plenary freedom is chaos. It is in the cosmos that acceptance without comprehension is nothing but compromise. And thus, gradually we became the slaves to our own world.

Everything in my life was just the way it should have been, that is until the day he arrived, unannounced. An abandoned entity, I was adopted by my uncle where I was taught small chores in his wielding shop. It was the way of the cane, either one learns quickly or gets out handicapped. I was in the dark, blinded and abused within the four walls of the oil-soiled room in the backyard where my uncle used to visit in the night with the Aluminum cane. Every night, it was a beating after which I would succumb to his fancies. It was my world and I accepted it as my fate.

It was one of those days, after uncle had left that I heard his voice; a calm yet resolute voice, deep and intense. He asked me about my interests and hobbies. We used to sing together, although I never heard him singing. Every night, we talked to each other. I never asked his name or address and he never asked mine. We presumed that in friendship material particulars hold the least value. One night when my uncle had beaten me with the aluminum wire, that he asked me to kill my uncle and run away with all the money. My uncle was the only one left in the family and I would never want to kill him. I refused, but his voice never stopped. Everyday and night it kept on ordering me to commit the deed. Until one day, I could take it no more. I poisoned the food and my uncle never entered my room that night. My instincts were to run away from the house.

I never saw my uncle again. However, an outcast that I had become forced me to beg on the streets, rummage for leftovers within garbage and find shelters in the make shift tents that workers had abandoned. One day, the voice again came back, asking me to steal and kill in order to survive. This time i refused and it began to shriek at me all the while. I could take it no more. And one day I ran. He was right behind me, the fiery voice never losing me with gasps of hot air that emanated from him. I ran until I could run no more, but then there was no escape from him. Blackness weighed down on me as he sprang on me and I fell down.

It was pitch dark and pin-drop silence but I could hear a loud voice say "freak", just like my uncle used to.