Reah Goes to India: Storytime
It had been a long day already and there was still so much to go. She was accompanying her elderly grandmother to a town far far away. To get there they would have to take two long plane rides and the rest of the way they must travel by car. At the moment she was sitting in the boarding lounge of the airport, waiting to start the second leg of their journey. Sweat dripped down her long nose, and soaked her shirt. she was unused to the hot climate and so far it hadn't suited her.
Charging past her was a large mustachioed man, and with a huff he sat opposite her. Startled by his entrance she dropped her boarding pass and as she reached to pick it up she met his gaze. He was clothed all in white and adorned himself with several articles of gold and silver. On his right hand were two thick rings squeezed onto his swollen index and ring fingers. Around his thick trunk of a neck was a thick gold chain, wet with sweat. He was the sort of man who was defined by the prosperity and he wanted to ensure that even a fleeting glance would convey his very essence.
A few seats away sat a very pretty lady, her long dainty painted fingers drummed her phone impatiently. Her thin legs were crossed and her foot was beating to the rhythm her fingers created.
In fact all around her people were waiting impatiently for delayed flight.
She was becoming more and more irritated with every passing moment, and her surroundings did nothing to soothe her inflamed psyche. The man across from her complained inncessantly while chewing noisily on cashews; as a result chunks of partially digested cashew and spittle were launched from his open mouth. As the anger of grounded passengers grew louder, she became increasingly frustrated with them.
Without noticing she had been picking at her torn cuticles make a bloody mess of flesh and skin, until finally a tiny trickle of blood ran down her thumb. Alarmed at the state of her fingers, she bit down on her thumb. The combination of presssure and pain applied by her tooth was a small relief, but not enough. Angriliy she swore to herself that there was no greater pain than a hangnail. She clutched her thumb in her palm, hungry for respite. The small annoyances had gradually increased to a breaking point she could bear it no longer. It was then an idea struck. Strengthened by her new found sense of resolution, she struck a plan.
Sloiwly she scanned the room, looking for anything that would threaten her plan. Satisfied she reached for her backpack and nimbly un zipped it, she drew out a small pink pouch. One set of of finger held the small bag tightly, while the other got to work inside the pouch. Without looking she expertly searched through the contents of her purse. At last her fingers grasped the cold metal object they had been searching for. She hesitated for a moment, contemplating her drastic measures, but resolute she slowly pulled the obect out, keeping it hidden in her palm. Keeping her hands hidden, she tried to make work as quickly as possible.
It was the pretty lady who sat a few seats away that noticed the gleam of the metal in her hands. when she realized what was happening a strangled scream left her lips. Startled everyone in the room turned to look where her pointed finger aimed. Almost all at once people realized what was happening, soon screams filled the air. A stampede of people thundered away, as uniformed guards marched in. When they had locked into their target, withouth hesitation guns wre cocked and aimed. Slowly she rose, hands in the air. But it had not been slow enough and a hail of bullets entered her soft flesh. SHe fell to the ground, her arm fell away and from her clutched palm out rolled a cold, metal, nailclipper....
please excuse the grammatical errors, it was written in haste and is not important enough to edit. This was just a short story...scene (idk) I thought of while sitting in the Bombay airport waiting for a flight. All the characters are real people that sat around me.
It had been a long day already and there was still so much to go. She was accompanying her elderly grandmother to a town far far away. To get there they would have to take two long plane rides and the rest of the way they must travel by car. At the moment she was sitting in the boarding lounge of the airport, waiting to start the second leg of their journey. Sweat dripped down her long nose, and soaked her shirt. she was unused to the hot climate and so far it hadn't suited her.
Charging past her was a large mustachioed man, and with a huff he sat opposite her. Startled by his entrance she dropped her boarding pass and as she reached to pick it up she met his gaze. He was clothed all in white and adorned himself with several articles of gold and silver. On his right hand were two thick rings squeezed onto his swollen index and ring fingers. Around his thick trunk of a neck was a thick gold chain, wet with sweat. He was the sort of man who was defined by the prosperity and he wanted to ensure that even a fleeting glance would convey his very essence.
A few seats away sat a very pretty lady, her long dainty painted fingers drummed her phone impatiently. Her thin legs were crossed and her foot was beating to the rhythm her fingers created.
In fact all around her people were waiting impatiently for delayed flight.
She was becoming more and more irritated with every passing moment, and her surroundings did nothing to soothe her inflamed psyche. The man across from her complained inncessantly while chewing noisily on cashews; as a result chunks of partially digested cashew and spittle were launched from his open mouth. As the anger of grounded passengers grew louder, she became increasingly frustrated with them.
Without noticing she had been picking at her torn cuticles make a bloody mess of flesh and skin, until finally a tiny trickle of blood ran down her thumb. Alarmed at the state of her fingers, she bit down on her thumb. The combination of presssure and pain applied by her tooth was a small relief, but not enough. Angriliy she swore to herself that there was no greater pain than a hangnail. She clutched her thumb in her palm, hungry for respite. The small annoyances had gradually increased to a breaking point she could bear it no longer. It was then an idea struck. Strengthened by her new found sense of resolution, she struck a plan.
Sloiwly she scanned the room, looking for anything that would threaten her plan. Satisfied she reached for her backpack and nimbly un zipped it, she drew out a small pink pouch. One set of of finger held the small bag tightly, while the other got to work inside the pouch. Without looking she expertly searched through the contents of her purse. At last her fingers grasped the cold metal object they had been searching for. She hesitated for a moment, contemplating her drastic measures, but resolute she slowly pulled the obect out, keeping it hidden in her palm. Keeping her hands hidden, she tried to make work as quickly as possible.
It was the pretty lady who sat a few seats away that noticed the gleam of the metal in her hands. when she realized what was happening a strangled scream left her lips. Startled everyone in the room turned to look where her pointed finger aimed. Almost all at once people realized what was happening, soon screams filled the air. A stampede of people thundered away, as uniformed guards marched in. When they had locked into their target, withouth hesitation guns wre cocked and aimed. Slowly she rose, hands in the air. But it had not been slow enough and a hail of bullets entered her soft flesh. SHe fell to the ground, her arm fell away and from her clutched palm out rolled a cold, metal, nailclipper....
please excuse the grammatical errors, it was written in haste and is not important enough to edit. This was just a short story...scene (idk) I thought of while sitting in the Bombay airport waiting for a flight. All the characters are real people that sat around me.
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