Baba Yaga has never seen a horse.Whenever he goes out he always kept an eye and an ear open for a horse. But that elusive being has always tried to evade Baba. Until that day. The heavens were giving the village a proper dunking. Baba was feeling restless. Who likes to sit and watch while the raindrops make merry? So he ventured out. In front of his house was a huge puddle. He could see his face in it. He was admiring his face when a huge stone landed in the puddle. The water splashed all over. Baba got startled and neighed with all his might. He heard the neighbour's children shout "Stupid Horse." He quickly looked around. But there was none.
I have to write. Those were the words that escaped the dying man's lips. He was found lying unconscious near a mountain of blank paper. His autopsy revealed over exhaustion as the reason. But what did he want to write so badly that it killed him, no one knows. The task was designated to the junior cop who was part of the investigation team. Let's call him Namura. So here we are with Namura in a room with the mountain of blank paper. He is awed as to why should there be so many papers near a dying man. He picks a sheet on the top. He studies it. It's as blank as blank papers can be. No pencil or pen has violated its virgin whiteness. Namura thinks of the white bed sheets back home. He is tired. All he wants is to crash on his bed. He feels angry about the whole situation. Here I am, staring at a blank piece of paper, wondering why someone who wanted to write so badly didn't write a single word, while the whole world is sleeping on their comfy beds. He wanted to tear the ...
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