Finally it happened. The source dried up all of a sudden. All that remained was a stagnant pool. The blind fish were swimming happily as if nothing had happened. For them, it didn't matter as long as they could swim around. But then, that too became difficult as the water level fell. The sun was making life even more difficult by turning up the heat. The oldest fish had an idea. Why don't we evolve? Let's do Darwin proud by moving on to the land? The others cheered him. He just plopped on to the land and the others never heard from him. Soon, one by one all of them evolved. Some experienced flying high before sharp beaks tore in to them. Others were transported down alimentary canals as a whole. The unlucky ones were descaled and beheaded before ending up in frying pans.
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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