Tales of Hope, Tales of Despair
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4 tales that show the extremes between hope and despair
An assassin wants to give up violence, but is she willing to make the ultimate sacrifice?
A man makes a psychic connection to the Spirit and plans to escape his underground hell.
In a future where sadness has been banned, does life have any meaning left?
Can a man go back in time and fix a terrible mistake he made?
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Tales of Hope, Tales of Despair - Shantnu Tiwari
1
I wish things could have gone different.
I wish I hadn’t killed all of them.
Hate the word fate.
See, I grew up in a very religious—dare I say fanatical—family. Everything was ordained by God. With a capital G. Sun came out ‘cause God said so, crops grew ‘cause again, God decreed so. We were but parts of a big divine plan. This was not just explained to us but beaten into us. Like I said, I hate the word fate.
Yet what else would you call it?
The more I tried to run from violence, the more it caught up with me. Like a jealous lover, it would not just leave me alone.
When I got on that ship, I had no idea what was going to happen.
I had bought my ticket in cash, which was the norm. After all, it was a smuggling ship. Not even a ship, though that’s what it said on the side. I would call it a boat, but then, who was I to judge? If it made the captain happy calling his tiny boat a ship, it was fine by me. Who else would be foolish enough to enter America after the Blight?
The captain of the ship ogled at me, like he had never seen a woman before. And what were you doing in America, girly?
Business.
Not minding my own business, which would have been more true, but rude too. So I just stuck to business. Everyone did business in America. Blight or no Blight, a few hardy people still lived there. With no more government or laws, they could do what they wanted. Which was a great lifestyle for some people. Of course, you could also die at any moment, but the hardy types were prepared for that too.
The ship was small. There was no space for tourists. Why did they take me on, then? Simple. The captain knew he was breaking the law anyway, so why not take a few illegal immigrants as well?
I was sent into the ship hold. Again, it was tiny. And it smelled of fish, though I knew for a fact he was carrying no fish. Heroin has no smell.
The hold was silent, except for the sound of the sea outside. There were no seats or tables here, so I sat on a hard steel box. It was cold, but otherwise not too uncomfortable. I’d been in worse places.
Not having anything to do, I decided to meditate. Many people found this funny, seeing my background. I did not care. I was meditating for me, not to impress anyone.
Back when I had been in the army, they had brought this meditation expert to help us. Everyone had been sceptical, but the man had really impressed us. It helped he was also a master in Aikido, a Japanese martial art that emphasises using the enemy’s strength against them. For us grunts, always used to charging ahead screaming, this was a new experience. The master showed us a calm man, standing quietly in the field, who could easily take out five screaming grunts like us.
Everyone paid attention to his meditation classes after that.
I had grown to love it and had continued it even after the teacher left. Though I could barely concentrate for two minutes before I started day dreaming, it still helped me.
And it saved my life that day.
I heard a sound. Not sure what it was. My name? A mention of me? Something else?
Whatever it was, it brought me to full attention. My fear instincts, honed for so long in a time of war, were at full alert. Which didn’t make sense. We were in the middle of the sea. There should be no danger here.
Cautiously, without making a sound, I got off the hard steel crate. It had cut grooves into my legs, but I ignored the pain.
The ship was surprisingly empty. A small ship this size should have had people moving about.
The ship swayed to a side without warning and I forced myself to stop so that I wouldn’t fall.
And that’s when I heard the voices.
I just told you! I don’t know her name.
It was the captain. He was screaming to someone. The voice was coming from the bridge.
As I stood by the bridge door, everyone stopped to stare at me. There were five of them, the whole crew.
They were all staring at me, like kids who had been caught stealing cookies.
The radio spoke again. You sure she’s good lookin’? ‘Cause we won’t pay you otherwise. Last time, you sold us an eighty-year-old woman who was no fun. We’re still pissed off about that.
The captain was still holding the radio transmitter, though it wasn’t in transmit mode at the moment. These were the old-fashioned radios, where you had to press a button to speak, so that two people couldn’t talk at the same time. That worked for me.
He was still staring at me, his knuckles white from gripping the radio so hard.
Put the transmitter down,
I said.
He seemed to gain some courage. This area is off-limits to passengers. We are discussing business here.
Like selling me, I see.
His face lost its colour. He tried to say something, but all that came out were angry sputters.
Who are you selling me to?
None of your business!
Since I’m the one being sold, I think it is.
We weren’t selling you,
the captain lied, looking away. Again, like a little kid.
I sighed. Listen, I’ll pay you double what they are paying. I just want to get to London without any trouble.
One of the captain’s mates took out a revolver. Don’t worry, girly. We’ll be relieving you of your cash soon. You keep it in your jacket, don’t you? I’ve seen you pat the left side far too many times.
I don’t keep any money there.
Sure you don’t,
said the captain, also drawing some courage. He took out a shotgun.
Listen, I beg you,
I said. Just take the money. Keep your mouth shut and I’ll pay you another bonus once I land in England.
Respond!
shouted the radio.
The captain answered it. Yes, I can confirm the passenger is a sex bomb. All the right curves, in the right places. We’ll bring her to the usual place.
Good. Is she strong? We need someone to work in the mines as well.
Slavers. Slavery had been brought back in America. Except this time, it didn’t matter if you were black or white. If you were caught by the slavers, you could kiss your freedom goodbye.
I shook my head in sadness. I wasn’t the first person to be tricked. But what else was I expecting from a smuggling ship?
Aye,
said the captain. She looks strong. Well fed. She’ll work double shift. In your mines and in your beds.
The other person laughed.
The mate spoke to me. We’ll have the cash now, princess. It’s no use where you’re going.