this short story was written for the walls of the first stori store in india. dunno if anyone has ever read it. here's your chance of making history. read it up and become the first person in this universe to have lapped up this tale.
the great race
it was 2 am. masculania was zzzing away to glory. a distant rumble shook up Junior. he got up startled. something was about to happen. he could sense it.
he swam across to Tom. splashed some water on him. and hollered, “wake up Tommy, wake up. i think it’s gonna start.”
“what’s gonna start? why don’t you get some sleep kid?” yelled back a visibly irritated Tom.
“don’t you hear it, they are gonna fire the pistol now, the race is gonna start, blow the bugle, do something!” said an alarmed Junior.
“hey, relax!” said sleepy old Tommy. he strained his ear a bit. he could feel the vibes too. wild winds had started to blow. the temperature had risen. Tommy’s face turned grim. he looked at Junior and said with a resigned look, “our moment of reckoning is nearly here. one hundred million inmates of this great water land will perish in the next one hour.”
a shell-shocked Junior asked, “is there no hope? can’t we do a thing?”
“i can just blow the bugle. and awaken my homeland. when the pistol is fired, we can do jackshit. all of us will be racing against time. the weak, the strong, the young, the old, the wise and the dumb. all of us. 100 million covering 26 miles in an hour. can you imagine? there will be a stampede. many will die. bany will be wounded…”
“why will everyone run?” queried a worried Junior.
Tommy replied, “the winner gets an egg. isn’t that reason enough?”
“egg? you’re telling me that millions of people will risk their lives for an egg?” asked an aghast Junior.
Tommy, pulling out the bugle, answered, “son, the egg is worth dying for. it’s our only hope to escape to earth.”
a perplexed Junior watched his uncle Tommy blow the bugle. the awful sound penetrated the eardrum of nearly every masculanian. they knew the time had come.
to run the race of their life. the entire nation stirred into activity. everyone took up positions. the stronger ones jostled their way forward. the meek got crushed. even Tommy got squashed in the mad rush to take the best positions for the race.
Junior thought to himself, “Tommy is gone. even my chance of survival is one in a hundred million. i must do something.” he took the bugle and blew it again.
the nation turned to Junior who took the microphone and said, “listen folks. for years, we have been running the great race without knowing the route, the finish line and the reward. this time, i want each one of us to be prepared when the real pistol is fired. so we are gonna have a rehearsal. in a few minutes a rehearsal race will start. i volunteer myself for the sacrifice. i want a few more people to run the rehearsal with me. so that, when the real race happens we at least have the roadmap in place.”
the moment they heard this, the entire nation started booing Junior. “why did you wake us up for a mere rehearsal?” was the refrain. people started returning to their homes. the strong men were laughing, “we don’t want to waste our energy at 2 am. send the small boys for charting the road map.”
so in ten minutes the nation was back asleep. Junior was the only one awake. he tried coaxing some others to join him in the rehearsal. but no one was in a mood. some spat at him in disgust. some others tried kicking him.
just then a giant bang was heard. no one stirred. there was a chorus of voices saying “false alarm”. Junior took off saying, “rehearsal”. then he ran and ran in the cavernous water land. not a soul followed him, thinking it’s a rehearsal.
it was a tubular racecourse. and a tough one at that. he sweated it out all alone. never stopping for one goddamn moment. remembering Tommy’s words, “the egg is worth dying for.” in the grueling next 60 minutes, he nearly died thrice. but each time Tommy’s words got him up like a magic mantra. finally, near a tunnel in Falopia, he could see a shimmering object that seemed like the much talked about egg. Junior mustered up all that he could manage and embraced the egg. after that moment, Junior couldn’t recollect what happened.
nine months later, he found himself in a cradle. there were two strange beings peering at him saying, “may be we should call him, Brad Pitt Jr.”