The Maze of Pasts

'' It is only scary within. From outside, it is a designer garden'', She laughed.

 Short Story – Anan Ashraf

Anan Ashraf

She looked at the valley ahead. It looked endless. At the periphery of her vision the path lay hid in fog. Walking past, she observed the walls. Walls that rose to the skies. Carved and engraved on them were a million figures. Irrespective of whether human, animal or bird, all life adorned the walls alike. They fought, they hunted, they cared, they lost. She wondered at the endlessness of them walls. Lost and in awe of the art, she sat. When a little girl caught her eye, at the bottom of them endless dimensions, learning a wall. The wall too looked endless. Déjà vu struck. She ran. Where to get out from? The alley lead to another, which led to another. The alley wasn’t merely an alley. It was a part of an endless maze of which there was no entry or exit. There was no destination; only roads. No purpose; only experience. No people; only what you carve on walls. The maze of history wrapped in it her little form.She peeped out from the footnotes as the child flipped through the story of pasts.

She peeped out from the footnotes as the child flipped through the story of pasts.

 

Anan Ashraf  is a second year graduate student of Journalism and mass communication at English and Foreign Languages University, Shillong campus.

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