This is a novel planked in a universe that occupied our orbital space before it painted its own doom. The murder of the king/president of that world triggers a chain of events that unfold, to arc the doom hammer. The saga of a disgusted detective for whom the wheels turn to make him a man destined to garb the clothes of a .......... Read more to know more.


18. Myriad deaths


Pooped I was from the sun today, and I am currently on my way to wriggle into Earth. As wave after wave of sun’s fiery mane are released, a race is concurred by the gent of the wave. As in our concurrence, the first to wave-in the surface of the third planetary globe wins.

Blasting past the morose blackness, a streaking red torching through the blinds of velvety darkness am I, weaving through the healthy competition I have managed to burst first. As is my practice, I always set a pre-deemed trajectory through which I course. As is now I am gliding through the motion route I decided on immediately after the agreement.

As I float I feel something cruel rub past my skin, but feel no force jolting me from my connived path. Opening my eyes, I grace upon my skin which was greased with blood yellow and white. As the blood oozes and even before the slur of it departs my concocted skin, I ram against something multidimensional the second time.

This time my full conscience blinks in unison to an answer that resounds that I can’t eschew the third which is smeared in human blood. I, in order to avoid further deconstruction of my complexion kick and rebound in a direction unbound. In a conglomeration of thought, a flickering reschedule of plans boards upon my priority list

I try to whirl around but the partial success of the same finds me holed up in an alcove. I try to flush myself out and that is when I start buffing up. In a few seconds, I am calloused to the hilt and am stretched to the across the two poles. In what is a reaction that is instinctual when things defy the physical laws, I burst sweeping the world with me. I am a happy corpse as my acoustic senses trace wailings and screeches. Now, my life is truly justified- the world laments my death.

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