Aryan's A-Z

2 There was screaming. Lots of screaming. Most of what I remember about this time, actually, was the incessant, core-rattling screaming that grew louder and louder as Jason and I would creep in to observe and rendered (echoing, echoing) my skull hollower and hollower as the nights passed on in sleepless fits. Uncle Pete was demanding his money back, saying he would fly people - powerful people - down here to strangle Papa until he re-produced his initial investment. Papa retorted, saying that Uncle Pete had known what he was getting himself into and that the loss was shared to an equal extent by the both of them. This fighting continued for days on end, escalating each time until one day, Papa had had enough and knocked Uncle Pete to the floor with a punch to the face. Startled, Uncle Pete got back up and wiped the blood from his lips before striking Papa right back. Momma, watching from the corner of her eyes this whole time, ran over, screaming and screaming as the two men tore each...

  FORSAKEN By Aryan Mukherjee To my mother… Because I feel that, in the Heavens above, The angels, whispering to one another, Can find, among their burning terms of love, None so devotional as that of “Mother,” … and because you never failed to protect me from the world when I was young. “This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang but a whimper.”                                                         - T.S. Eliot 1 I still remember the time Jason and I were kidnapped. How can one forget? When a thing like that happens, it finds a way to stay with you, creeping into every dream like a cloud of black smoke, rising all around you until you have tears in your eyes and are coughing so hard you can’t breath...