The streets bustled with Indians eager to attend the peaceful festival of Ram Navami. Excitement filled the air as they streamed out of their homes and made their way toward the bridge, their anticipation guiding their every step.
The hot sun blazed down on an autumn afternoon. Two kids strayed away from their course and entered a forest unobserved.
Among them was Neil, a seventeen-year-old boy with an unyielding spirit, born to a humble farmer. He carried the weight of his father's stories and dreams, nurturing a yearning for adventure within him.
In his younger years, his father often recounted stories of serving in distant lands and following his country's flag into the heart of foreign cities.
They sat on the grass. Neil couldn't stop staring at her; her skin was autumn brown and as smooth as a moonstone. She had dazzling, champagne-brown eyes and half-moon cheekbones. Her hair swooped in coils over her neck. She had a toned yet curvaceous figure and an acorn cup chin. Her face wore a gentle smile that could put anyone at ease.
A black cat lazily crawled over her lap.
Neil was thrilled when she laid her head on his shoulder. He didn't dare move and ruin the moment. Instead, he held her, and they watched the gentle waves of the sea lap against the shore. White birds circled overhead. A fish leaped up and came down again with a splash.
Suddenly, they heard a bullet explode from the barrel of a gun.
Neil rushed towards the sidewalk. He ducked behind some bushes to observe the adjacent park. The British soldiers opened fire, causing a stampede. The soldiers were no more than twenty or so; the crowd ran into hundreds. They were all unarmed.
Neil's voice trembled with urgency as he held Pia by the arm. "Pia, find shelter behind that tree and remain hidden until I give the signal. Promise me you won't come out until it's safe. Can you do that?"
Pia clutched the cat close to her trembling body. She meekly nodded and ran off.
Neil noticed a fallen sword on the ground. Had one of the elders attempted to fight? Where was the owner now? But those questions were irrelevant. His priority was protecting Pia. Determined, he decided to cautiously emerge from his hiding spot, grasping the weapon.
Rather than holding it by the hilt, he awkwardly gripped the sword in the middle of the blade. Fear surged through him, his gut churning with heat. He despised the thought of war. If anyone saw him, they would realize he lacked the necessary training in wielding a weapon. He glanced at the wood, then surveyed his surroundings.
Shifting his gaze away from the wood, he stared at the sword in a dazed state.
"What am I supposed to do with this? I might as well have taken a shovel or a trident," he pondered.
Adjusting his grip, he wrapped his hand around the handle. He needed to be brave. With a momentary pause, he swiftly returned to the forest, hurrying to reach it. He had to reach Pia quickly. He had to protect her, even if it meant risking his own life. Relief flooded through him as he found her safely positioned behind a large tree, prompting a sigh of relief.
He glanced over his shoulder towards the battlefield. No one followed. The shooting sometimes crackled like bush fires and sometimes it reverted like a thunderbolt. He could only stare; it was all happening so quickly.
He looked at the pained expressions of his people, trying to turn everything possible in their path into a weapon: stones, sticks, vineyards to shelter their unprotected selves.
A British general on a horse gazed towards the woods. Neil took a fighting stance and waited. A soldier joined him soon.
"There shouldn't be any survivors here. We need to take extra precautions for the backlash we're going to face soon," the general said. The soldier nodded in agreement. Then they rode away, leaving behind the chaos and devastation they had caused.
Neil waited until they were out of sight before emerging from his hiding place. He scanned the area, looking for any signs of life. The air became suffocating, carrying the acrid scent of smoke and the metallic tang of blood. The ground bore witness to a chilling scene, strewn with lifeless bodies and echoing with the agonized groans of the wounded.
A surge of desperation coursed through Neil's veins. He realized they couldn't afford to remain there a moment longer. The British would undoubtedly return to ensure their mission's completion.
"We need to leave now, Pia. We can't stay here."
"What about our parents?" she asked, tears falling from her cheeks even before she heard Neil's answer.
"They sacrificed themselves for us. If we don't survive, their bravery will go in vain. You don't want that, right?"
"Haven't they left yet?" Pia asked.
"I overheard the British general. They will come back in a few hours to inspect this area. We have to go."
Pia nodded slowly, tears still streaking down her cheeks. Neil desperately wanted to hold her in his arms again and comfort her until she shed her last tear. But he couldn't do so; with each ticking second, their chances of escaping dwindled.
He stared at his sword again, finally coming up with an idea to make good use of it.
He held the sword in his left hand, by the middle of the blade. A scabbard hung at its left hip.
Pia stood watching this until satisfaction welled up inside him.
He thundered towards a thick cedar tree. He swung the sword backward and propelled it forward with as much impetus as his body could muster.
Instead of the trunk falling apart as Neil had hoped, there was only a majestic scratch on its surface. The leaves fell over him as if enjoying the spectacle he made of himself. Powered by his annoyance, Neil repeatedly struck the trunk. He made progress, but it was difficult to maintain that level of energy. The sword would at times get stuck in the minuscule gap between the cut of the tree's surface. Neil had to wrench it away. In the process, he got his palms scraped; the tiny silvers of wood, again and again, assaulted his skin and made it worse. Hope faded away before he reached the halfway point.
He let the tip of the sword fall to the ground and looked toward Pia. She desperately rubbed two rocks together, trying to start a fire. The determination flaring in her eyes provided the inspiration to keep him going.
Neil wiped his blistered palms on his pants and struck the tree again. He worked until every ounce of energy drained from his body. Exhaustion shook his arms, but on the verge of giving up, the tree slipped sideways with a creak.
He stood in his position as the trunk slowly separated itself from its root and fell backward on the surface.
Pia clapped and encouraged him to complete his task. Her face glistened in the moonlight. He involuntarily smiled and placed the palm of his hand on his chest. He needed to do this. He needed her to survive.
Pia was peeling some fruits, while Neil finally managed to chop the trunk into some even pieces.
Then using braided river reeds that Pia had made, some gooey liquid from the leaf saps, and tiny pieces of wood as makeshift screws, he used the butt of his sword to piece them together.
Neil wished he would've heeded when his father had urged him on his wood crafting skills. Then maybe the raft would've been sturdier and safer.
As it took shape, Neil prayed it would hold together long enough to get to the nearby islands where they could ask for help.
Together they pushed the boat onto the sea's surface. It stood steadfast, dancing on the tiny ripples and inviting them to join the adventure together.
Neil took a step onto the raft, extending a steadying hand towards Pia. With a gentle grip, he helped her step onto the uncertain surface of the makeshift vessel.
He didn't know if they would make it far across to the island. What he did know was no matter what happened, Pia came first and he would protect her with everything he had.
As if sensing his thoughts, Pia spoke. "Neil, I need you to promise me, if something happens and one of us doesn't make it, the other one has to live on and complete their legacy."
A leaden ball formed in Neil's stomach. "Okay," Neil nodded, and he clutched the paddles near his chest. He handed over one paddle to Pia, and together they began rowing the boat.
Sea water flowed past them for an hour while their paddles moved in a mechanical, rhythmic, swift motion. They were perfectly synchronized. The moon still shone brightly in the sky, guiding them, but it had gotten darker. No matter. Their surroundings never seemed to change. It began to seem like an exercise in futility.
Pia's voice trembled with worry. "Neil, are we going the right way?" Her forehead creased with concern. Though uncertainty plagued him, Neil nodded, determined to shield Pia from despair.
Everything seemed peaceful in the dark of the night until they encountered their first real waves. The first wave hit. Neil tried to swallow his terror. He wanted to stay strong for Pia, but his efforts were in vain. She watched him with wide, panicked eyes.
They successfully passed the wave.
Disaster raced towards them with the second wave.
A haunting rattling noise filled the air as the raft abruptly tore apart, thrusting Neil backward into the frigid embrace of the rough sea. His body hit the water with a pounding whack, and terror washed over him as surely as the salty water that gushed into his mouth.
In a state of panic, he thrashed his legs in a futile endeavor to propel himself upward, back to the surface. His heart pounded like a trapped creature, desperate for freedom. Every muscle in his body tightened and became rigid.
He propelled his body upwards, summoning his full-body strength. He came up slowly. He opened his eyes and saw nothing but a yellow tinge of seawater. One of the pieces of the log from the raft he made floated nearby.
He kicked his legs with frantic desperation, propelling himself toward it. Stretching out his arm, he strained to grasp it, only to have it slip from his fingertips, plunging him back into the unforgiving depths.
A piece of his kurta got stuck to a sea plant. He tugged at it. But his eyes burned with the seawater. He tried to bring his legs up, but they hung as dead weights, paralyzed and rigid. What if he died? He still had to save Pia; he couldn't let her die. His kurta ripped apart, freeing him.
He fought against the water, his chest constricting from the burning sensation in his lungs. Finally, he erupted through the surface, clutching onto the log with all his strength.
Gulping for air, he coughed and sputtered. His head throbbed with intense pain. Not far from him, a dark pigtail floated on the water's surfaceâPia!
He hurried towards her, but his right leg collided with an unseen rock, tearing a patch of skin.
A profound and uncontrollable terror gripped him. His limbs refused to respond as if paralyzed. A cry of agony escaped his lips as he surrendered once again to the unforgiving embrace of the sea.
A/N
Hi thanks so much for the read! If you enjoyed please leave a vote or a comment that's the best way to support me! Add it to your reading list to stay notified when it's updated. Thanks so much xx, Anne.