Keys Jangled

The keys jangled as he rushed past. The traffic was loud and crowded. Horns honking. Sun above him was bringing down a sweltering might in exchange for bringing light. The keys jangled. The clouds hung low. The sun was hard and hot. Cars honked obnoxiously, their drivers always in a hurry. The dirty canal to one side of him glistened with shiny plastics. The water was damp and muddy. On the other side was the road withmetal beasts hurtling towards their destinations, each attempting to be a bullet train. Adjacent to them, on the other side was the small patch of grassy land that ran next to the road. Sprinkled all over it, mostly under the shade of trees were people with carts of whatever fruit was in season.

He walked onwards. The keys jangled. His hair was matted with sweat and curly, his shirt was drenched, his jeans were too tight. He looked around, and then kept walking.

Cars honking loudly, obnoxiously as they rushed past, right by him. He winced every time they did. It was so harsh, that sound.

“Oye.” A voice called out.

He fought the urge to look back, and fought the urge to start running, and kept control over his pace, and kept walking at the same speed.

“Oye. Someone stop him.”  He closed his eyes, and prayed.

He heard the ground shake as footsteps came running behind him. Long, heavy strides. They passed him, their owner tall and heavy. He heaved a sigh of relief. He looked up to the sky, and silently thanked it.

The keys jangled.

He walked on.

The day turned into evening, and the evening to night. It became much cooler. His shirt was sticking to him now, and he was starting to feel cold as the particles of liquid that drenched it began to evaporate, taking heat with them. He kept walking.

The keys jangled.

His eyes were starting to shutter. He fought to stay awake. He had not slept in a while. He couldn’t remember how long it had been. His brain wasn’t functioning very well at the moment.

He kept walking. Night turned into the wisps of dawn. The moon was still in the sky. It blinked at him, blue, beautiful as the sky began to surround it, and wave it away. He kept walking. He tripped over a rock, and stumbled waving his hands. He managed to right himself. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t slow. He knew if he did, he would never start. He needed to keep moving. He didn’t have the willpower to start moving again. Not anymore.

The keys jangled.

He was walking through the old city now. People were giving him strange looks. Some, but very few hurried past. They were coming back from morning prayer. That were confused as to why he was here. They give him side glances, gave him full stares, glared at him, and studiously ignored him.

He was out of the old city.

The keys jangled.

He heard some dogs barking. They were getting louder. He tensed. And prayed.

His prayers did not save him this time. The dogs fell upon him, and tore him to shreds. He did not scream. The only tumbling that remained was a blooded set of keys.

Danish Aamir