He had been sitting at his desk for a long time now. Deep in thoughts, his hand thoughtlessly played with a pen, the one he always used when he had to come up with new plans. The pen was more of a symbol of the faith in his own abilities than his beliefs in superstition. Now armed with his mighty weapon, ideas came flooding into his mind. He suddenly felt a wave of fresh energy sweeping though him, something he hadn’t felt
for some time now.
The year was 2035. There was smoke everywhere, clouding the landscape around with a greyish tint. Faint sounds of blasting and distant booming came from miles away as the landscape that man had taken decades to built lay in rubbles and a heap of waste. The air was filled with nascent smells of gases and smoke and breathing was an exercise that required much effort. The plants and trees around are withered in the heat and the ones that managed to exist bear no resemblance to the greener ones that stood in their place only years ago. The only survivors are the smaller animals that were able to squeeze themselves into the crevices and gaps in the rubble and withstand the heat. There was destruction everywhere. The apocalypse had been evitable but unstoppable.
He was suddenly distracted by the noise of a door creaking open behind him and the sound of footsteps. He swung around on an impulse, his chain of thoughts shattered. A wave of annoyance swept through him as he saw his wife walking into the room holding a glass of milk. She placed it gently on the table with a sweet smile on her face, which quickly turned sour on seeing the reaction on her husband’s face. She looked at him questioningly.
“How many times have I told you not to disturb me when I am working?” he chided.
“Relax, it isn’t like you are planning a war strategy or something, it’s just a story!!” she replied and walked off briskly before he could say another word.
He sighed and looked out of the window at the lush green pastures outside his house. His story had been coming out well.
- Vipin
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