Member-only story
A Minority Matter
Trigger Warning: this work of fiction, based on true events, was written by me 3 years ago following the 2019 Easter attacks in Sri Lanka. It helped my anguished mind process the grievous atrocity that we experienced.
Sharing this here as we still await, in vain, for justice for those who lost their lives and loved ones.
I see babies, infants, children of all ages in the distance, blurred slightly, like my vision without my trusty pair of every-day glasses: there’s several of them, wearing white with a red spotted design splattered on them, the most beatific expression on their upturned faces, hands clasped in prayer. My vision gets clearer and I get closer and I.forget.to.breath …
There have been times when I have had premonitions in my dreams. Or prophetic nightmares. Call it what you will but the ‘dreams’ are of instances when nothing but the worst is about to happen. However, my worst nightmares are nothing like that. Incidents that took place without so much as a whisper of a warning, a hint of what’s going to transpire, have now claimed my sleep. My sleep, my peace of mind, my outlook in life; painting everything I have held dear to my life in dull gray and sometimes, in deep, dark black. I wish I can erase that day from my mind. I can never forget that exact moment, the usual words of mundane life that I heard seconds before.
