My Cup-cakes!

He was calculating. Sitting and calculating. Number of bullets used, number of people dead. He was calculating.1

I stood by the flag pole. Waiting for the flag to come down. Dad said that the day it did, we could buy cup-cakes from the bakery without waiting for someone's approval.2

Taking a break from his calculations, he asked me what I was doing by the pole. I answered him. He told me that he never intended to pull the flag down.3

The boy was eating. Delicious rice cakes. He had a blanket wrapped around him. A thick woolen one. We don't have such heavy clothing,when the cold winds blow. His dad is unemployed. So is his mom. No-one in his family works. But everyone in mine does. Yet we can't have the blanket. I can't understand why? Daddy said that some people gave them the blanket as a gift.But we never get gifts. I know that the person who gave gifts was the same person who was calculating. I don't want gifts from him. But I wish he didn't expect gifts from us. But Daddy is too afraid of his gun, to disobey him.4

I felt suffocated. I didn't like Him. I disliked him. So I put on my running shoes. He saw me. They all came out. They called me a coward. A traitor. They tried to bind me. But I couldn't be bound. So they imprisoned me. For 30 days I sat in a lonely cell. Each night an old man visited me and told me why i was wrong. Why was I wrong? I never argued with him though. It seemed worthless to spend my precious breathe in such futile efforts.5

The day I came out, my mind felt rather sharp. Everything seemed magnified. They had no right to keep me away from those cakes. They had no right to keep me in that dark hell. Now consequences would follow.6

I no longer disliked Him. Just hated him.7

I sped through the street in an earnest vigour. Sweat pouring through each part of my body. Every muscle feeling the emergency to act. Fatigue had began its work. But I couldn't get tired. I wouldn't!8

his hands shook when he saw me. His eyes burnt hollow when he looked into my conquering eyes. he fired thrice. But he couldn't fire at me. At least his mind couldn't. He knew he wasn't worth what his hands held. he couldn't crouch behind it any longer.9

He was calculating. Sitting and calculating. Money given and money taken. I was calculating.10