BEYOND BORDERS FEB 18

BEYOND BORDERS
CRACKLE
LITERATURE | SHORT STORY
ASHREYA MOHAN
The campfire hisses, the embers moving in rhythm with the beat of your heart.
The flames are viciously calming, a blur of oranges and reds as they cast their
dancing shadows upon you and your family. You feel a rush of frigid wind sting
your eyes. Around you, you hear the warm laughter pierce the smoky air, and
the hearty bellowing of your uncles as they belt out the verses of that old
song. You taste the meat and vegetables that you’ve been roasting on a stick;
charred and reminiscent of a long forgotten summer barbecue. You’re still
itching to check your notifications, but there’s no reception in this desolate
part of the country.
You look around, the foliage is as verdant as ever. The sun had dipped behind
the horizon, the hues of brilliant pinks and vivid purples sucked into the harsh,
vast darkness of the night. You notice the glittering specks in the sky. Stars,
you can never see those in the city. You fidget in your seat, wanting to get back
indoors. You can sense the occasional twitter of one of the farm birds, and the
anguished bleating of some lonely goats. You hear your cousin whisper into
the shell of your ear. “Want to play a game?”
Suddenly, you’re running. The frosty wind is harsh, cold spreading through
your body the way ink seeps into paper. You’re flying, your feet kissing the
earthy ground ever so lightly and the sweat dripping down your forehead.
Beside you, there’s shouts of both joyful merriment. Your breath comes in
quick gasps, peals of laughter spilling out of you until someone screams and
you come to an abrupt stop, teetering on your heels. Right beneath your feet is
a gaping well, a vast pit so deep that it has no bottom, only a black hole that
seemed to absorb anything that fell into it.
The crisp air spills into your lungs as you gasp, shaking. A second too late and
you’d have been just another dead body rotting away in that well. You stagger
back, and let realisation hit you like a truck. You could die any time; any of us
could. Death was an imminent, inevitable force, and the only thing you could
do counter it was to live in the moment. To relish in the finer points of life and
stop worrying all the time. To have fun, to take risks. It’s a moment selfactualization,
and you feel a strange sense of relief flood you. You’re still alive,
and you’re going to make it worth it.