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Revival Factory & Other Novellas
The Nymphs of Mosaic (Ch.3)

The Nymphs of Mosaic (Ch.3)

The thing which felt relaxing first day turned into miserable in another day. I had got bored of watching TV and looking at dead faces.

The depressing day went by and came another evening. With evening I also came in balcony with my non – living or already deceased companions. I read my friends' articles and laughed at them. I had found my name mentioned in their columns for several times. Hell, I even found my own article there.

I HAD SNAKES CRAWLING OVER ME WHEN I HAD COME OUT FROM BUNKER. – Rick Tarot

I don't even remember writing it at all. Snakes aren't creature worth to be remembered.

I SHOT TEN MEN IN THE WAR, came second article. It also was mine.

CAUGHT SPY AGAIN. THIS TIME RICK TAROT FINDS HIM.

I smiled because I remembered it crystal clear. Damn, how many articles had I written here?

SUICIDE BOMBER SHOT TO DEATH BY TAROT.

CAMP FOUR EXPLODES FOES BUNKERS.

WE FOUGHT WITHOUT BULLETS BUT WITH DAGGERS.

THREE SURVIVED OUT OF THIRTY. I was one of them. But I wasn’t mentioned in the whole article.

I turned pages with my heart filled with anxiousness. All I found there was about me and my colleague troops killing people. No article was mentioned about saving anyone.

Perhaps Hansen was right.

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"He then begins to think if his sins have outnumbered good deeds."

I was already done. I shut the magazine with idea of never opening it again. I was fed up from faces I didn’t even know were alive or not.

In evening, I felt more anxious than before and gathered guts to jump from balcony and end it all there. I couldn’t overlook and resist suicidal thoughts all the time. Some day it was bound to get under my skin.

The day had turned out to be the one day.

Again some kids came on their bicycles faster than ever. I didn’t want to commit suicide in front of kids. This time they didn’t play and kept on pedaling.

I was very close to jump –

"I didn’t even break my bone by slipping from the tree of Markeenz Lake. I had thought I will die." The kid screamed at his friends from behind. The kids ahead of him kept on smiling and didn’t show any interest on what a smaller toddler pedaling like a tortoise had to say. All of them were busy in rushing for Markeenz Lake – which was often called Markings by the children because both things pronounced almost the same for them.

"I will not dive from there. I will not let anyone of you do so either." He screamed at last when he was directly infront of my house.

"Is he speaking only to his friends or me too?" I was compelled to think. For some reason I couldn’t let myself fall from the balcony.

I made my mind; I would not jump from there until he comes again.

Two hours later the group of kids came with clothes stained with mud. One had his cycle's tire punctured and another had lost his shirt somehow.

But the child didn’t come this time either.

I vowed I would talk to the kid after I see him next time.

Kid had stopped me multiple times from jumping from my beloved balcony.

The third day I saw no signs of him. Not even a single child came on bicycle. Even though I had suicide in his mind for all the day, I didn’t jump from anywhere. Perhaps I was thinking was death from fall was easier way to lose life. I had image of egg break after hitting the ground. I am not an egg but I am damn sure I will burst like it if I fall from there. I thought I would find him the next day if not today.

I could it at least for the child who had added three days in my life.