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We received some amazing entries for our short-story writing contest ‘In Write Spirit’ in partnership with #TNIEBengaluru.
Five winners have been chosen and this is one of the winning entries!
Last night on earth by Sakshi Mishra
The stakes were too high.
On one side, Adrien had his bacon grilling to an utmost perfection, while on the other, Johnny was about to crash into a car.
An obvious choice, you would laugh.
But it wasn’t, not to Adrien.
Neither did he want his bacon to taste like the pungent charcoal, nor did he want his little brother to meet an untimely death.
Choose the brother, you would say.
Adrien had spent the early parts of the day fuelling out the perfect recipe for his Sunday grill session. He had driven around to find the pork which would be ideal for the recipe. He had even mustered up the courage to fight an old man, who was claiming he needed the last of the animal, for he was sure he would be dying tonight.
The car was getting closer, and Johnny was oblivious.
The fight with the old man had not been easy. By the frail looks of the man, Adrien had decided against raising his voice, or his hands. He had never been able to find an answer in violence, even when he had punched Terry T on the mouth for calling him a name equivalent to faecal matter. A strange set of events had transpired the following day, which he termed, karma. While Adrien was suspended for a month, his school had also contrived with his parents to send him to child therapy. Mind this, he was in second grade.
Meanwhile, Johnny was inching closer to the reaper.
An obvious choice, you would restate.
Adrien knew he would have to conspire against the dying old man. Sir, the pork is infected, he would say. Or, “Sir, eating pork on your last night on earth will prove to be unpleasant. Take it from a man who shook hands with death.”
“Son, you don’t know death. None of us do.”
“1996, car accident. Had seven strips of bacon before driving. That’s all I’m allowed to say.”
The sentence sent the man tumbling down the road faster than Adrien could say the words: “I’d like to pay by cash.”
His efforts had been laudable, but Johnny was about to be wiped out from existence.
He will choose the brother, you would repeat.
The rest of the afternoon had been spent marinating the pork with precision. He had looked forward to this an entire week, the thrill of the melting bacon, the aroma of death. Yes, Johnny was dangerously close. His breathing had slowed down. Johnny was going to die.
Clearly, the brother, you would reiterate.
Adrien took a strip off the grill, in a motion so quick, the marination skedaddled off the pork. Then he ran, as if he was running for his life. The car was red, so was the bacon, and so was Adrien’s blood.
He swooped across the street and hauled Johnny into his arms. Then he pushed Johnny away, so far, that he dislocated his own arm in the process.
And then he got hit.
But he held the bacon tightly, with the tip of his fingers.
And then he fell.
Knew it, you would roar.
Adrian trembled while he tried to get his hands to work. He was going to eat bacon, no matter what the consequence.
And so, he did. A warm sensation tingled up his spine. Karma had prevailed, again.
He had become the very thing he had sworn to destroy.
He had become the man who ate bacon on his last night on earth.
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