Yet another MARVEL by our writing genius, Usama Gohar, of class AS Level. A touching story that would keep your minds hooked up till the end. That’s what you call ‘suspense’. The topic was originally meant for O’ level boys, yet Usama Gohar was dragged in just to be ‘a minaret of light’ for his juniors. I believe he’s done full justice to this situational topic. Enjoy! (Humayun)

Despite my devoted care, I could not save that boy from dying.

I was drenched in blood, most of which was not my own. Amidst the storm, nothing could be seen. Maybe that’s why our cars had collided with an ear-splitting bang. I had been quick to jump out in time. I kneeled and gazed around; nothing could be made out amidst the hail storm, apart from the three – presumably lifeless – figures. 

It took me a minute to realize that my left leg had been shattered. Relentlessly, I stood up and limped all the way to where the other three bodies lay – which wasn’t very far but still took a lot of effort on my part.

It took me some time to realize that there were two bodies when I could clearly recall seeing three figures inside the car just before our cars had had a collision. It was then that my ears made out the hushed breathes mixed with the slow breeze. I stumbled to the side of the road where the ground gave way to a deep valley. 

There before me, partially hidden by the leaves was a little boy: “Hold on!” I managed to call. The boy looked up, his eyes filled with tears – now glistening with hope. It's strange, I thought, how one word from a stranger can fill us with hope. I tried to lower hand towards him as I balanced myself at the edge of the road.

The rush of adrenaline subsided and with a sudden jerk I felt all the physical pains that had previously been held back by my adrenaline. My legs started aching, my head started spinning and I felt my forehead dampen with perspiration. The little boy clutched my hand with both of his little hands and I started to pull him up. As I was pulling him up, a dark, thick droplet landed between his eyes. Only then did I realize that my skull had been cracked open and it was only the adrenaline holding back my bleeding.

Everything before me went dark for a while until a loud crack brought me back to my senses. The piece of road on which I lay had torn itself apart and would soon fall into the valley underneath. 

I pulled the boy up and grabbed him by the shoulder just before another grumble filled the still air. I flung my body just in time to grab the edge of the still attached road with my free hand. I tried to pull myself up but the pain was excruciating.

I looked down at the boy, still clutching my ATM and found him looking at me. His dark eyes showed no sign of fear. If anything I saw in them was a mature courage. As I looked at him in awe, he spoke – his mouth still closed. His mouth was closed but his eyes spoke up, something the ancient people called “the spirit” and which psychics today call “telepathy”. “Don't worry,” his eyes seemed to say, “I know you tried.”

Before I could say or do anything else, he let go of my arm. The gruesome blizzard swallowed his little farm.  I watched him vanish into the white haze. 

He had left the night as dead as ever and me once more alone.

Authored by:
Usama Gohar
AS Level (Cambridge Section)
PakTurk Schools
Chak Shahzad
Islamabad