I recently bought a pepper grinding machine, installed it in the shop. My wife, she was deeply committed to the traditional values of the tribe. I worked in the shop, this exposed me to the outer world and I soon realised that the tribe was dying. Very few of us were left, the direct descendants of the original clan.
The pepper machine was her idea. The ritual needed females to dip a wet cloth in pure pepper, dab it on the eye lids and wait for the pepper to seep into the eyes. Once inside the eyes, pepper stimulated the burnt ends of neurons that are unique to the clan. Overpowering burning sensation would render the female in a shocked state momentarily; once recovered from it though, she must force open her eye lids with age old forceps that are usually passed on from one generation to the next. The priceless forceps hold the eye lids firmly as tears roll into circles in the female’s eyes. The male has to feed her and take care of her while she swallows the terribly excruciating pain in her eyes. The process begins at dawn and ends at dusk. As the sun settles, the female cleanses her eyes and swallows the male.
Not every female is granted with the power of swallowing up people, only the diligent ones that have undergone the age old ritual find themselves in a position where they can shrink any physical person into an image and capture them inside her eyes. My wife has captured me a couple of days ago, since then I have been trapped inside her eyes. Inside eye sockets, it is very lonely, the curvaceous eyeballs on which I rehearse my image. Lollop as the eye lids beat repeatedly, float and give way to metamorphosis in the viscous stream of tears. At times, she forgetfully shaded her eyes and I immediately slipped into the surrounding dark corners inside the eye sockets.
The strangest thing is, she suffered from the traumatic ritual for a very long time and her eyes were not hospitable yet. The insides were reddened with anger and pain, the state of her eyes had rendered her incapable of slipping into dreams. But gradually the pain subsided and one night she finally dreamt. That night, when she was experiencing REM, I took advantage of the only reprieve, and slipped into her dream only to be forcibly expelled by her. Her subconscious mind was at work, after several disguised attempts, finally I got through one day, and conversed with her inside the dream.
Her dream was not entirely lucid, it was anything but it. Chaotic, hurried, inexplicably intricate. At times, she fantasised spending time with another man which was not entirely inconceivable. But the worrying part was the recurring theme. It was the teenagers; she captured men in her images during the day and turned them into teenagers. I spent my time mutely and silently. As the days passed by, she developed what I perceived as an apparatus-she expelled the teenagers soon, the night after. But, I was there to stay.
Although I enjoyed the company of all the men who turned into teenagers inside her eyes, I failed to comprehend the motive. The teenagers were all love struck. Through the day, she captured men, at night she diligently turned them into teenagers, let them out next morning. The master plan remained elusive; I failed to locate it of there was one.
Then she let me out one fine morning and explained to me. All the time, she was at work, creating platoons for the resuscitation of our clan. The love struck teenagers, she claimed, would fortify the revolution for the resurgence of our clan. I was thrilled with the idea of resurrection, all the surviving members were longing for the old days.
Our clan was infamously popular for its clandestine operations. I gathered all the teenagers, taught them our weaponry skills. Slowly, with the aid of other clan members from the neighbouring regions, we vandalised the properties of all young women in the area. Left with little to depend upon, our troops of love struck teenagers trapped them in love; the women thus added improved our potential both in numbers and quality.
Once in power, we decided to apply full throttle- deceived all the others in the community, sometimes we threatened them by our force, other times we capriciously and malevolently covered up our cunning faces with a more humane mask. And, the whole community was ours. One neighbouring community after another, we gathered courage, and with it quite inexplicably our hunger for more.
And, the whole planet was under our control, we were everywhere, everyone was with us. But I was growing older, so I enquired with my wife if I should be transformed into a teenager? Would she do that for me? The clan required its leader to stay alive. She and I fully understood the repercussions of a second attempt. Any image captured twice undergoes a contortion and neither the capturer nor the captured would have the power over the episode of contortion until the energy difference in the two breaks even by flowing from the captured to the capturer.
But, we went ahead; the initial days of contortion exhausted me of my energy. Something very dramatic ensued of this-the capturer, my wife was overwhelmed with the acquired power. She would not let me go; with me inside her eyes and the clan badly in need for a leader, she volunteered and the clan unanimously voted for her.
I was trapped inside her eyes, attempted to communicate in her dreams, but she shoved me off. I contemplated my exit strategies. The contortion had left me battered and lifeless. Soon, I realised that if I was to be expelled to the outside world, I had to trouble her. But this backfired, her eyes turned increasingly inhospitable for me to live. I was dying inside her eyes, and the clan was fragmented with friction between the men and women. The love struck teenagers were no longer driven by the need for love (something else was needed to drive them); the women were now well off (they also needed something more). While the clan burnt at the ends and everywhere, islands of revolutionary voices were raised against the new ruler.
Like a cloth under a candle, the revolutionary flame burnt pores into the fabric of our planetary acquisition. The leader-my wife- was consumed with the power at hands. I was dying inside, slowly and painfully. The clan was also dying. It was then that I decided to lure her in her dreams. I slipped into her dreams and stayed there throughout the REM period, frustrated her, hurt her eyes. She grew impatient and indecisive, this showed in the clan’s retirement from revolutionary mode. No one cared anymore, there was no unifying theme.
Then I changed my stand, I loved her, cajoled her. I submitted myself to her authority. The left her with some time to repair the fragmented clan, but the operations were still progressing at a snail’s pace. She thoughtfully deployed her next strategy; captured the men and women from other parts of the world that were never before tried. Inside her eyes, she began transforming them into teenagers again. I sensed an opportunity here, and instilled a fear of the clan outside into the teenage clan that was forming inside. My wife was not expelling this batch of teenagers the night after, she was storing them up to deliver all at once-perhaps she sensed a greater reliance on a vicious blow by the sheer quantity of the army she was building inside.
While she turned all the men and women into teenagers, I levelled up as a revolutionary leader under a quirky but unifying theme-against the clan outside. The burgeoning army inside her eyes grew in both quality and quantity. I taught them the revolutionary style of fighting. The army was all ready, but I feared that she would never expel me. Then one night, in her dreams she pulled out few of her chilli machine memories. That night, with the aid of my army, we captured the image and administered the chilli style of creating omnipotent women. We selected one woman with great determination and doused her eyes with chilli powder. After sufficient waiting, the attempt became fruitful, she acquired my image and transformed me inside her eyes, spat me a perfect gentleman with strength.
When it was time for expulsion, my wife mistook me for one of the revolutionaries and spat me out. Once outside, I killed my wife and the clan from inside fought against the clan on the outside. The outside clan was defeated. In the end of it all, I realised that my clan’s only surviving member was me.
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