By: Rishika Pasupulati, Grade 10 B

The story won 3rd place in Literati events held in school.
I was walking down in one of the busiest markets in the town- the Chain market. The smell of cardamom and pepper infused in the air. The sky hazy and the sun right above me. It was hot. The skin under my leather jacket frying and my hair sticky from moisture. The gun in the back pockets of my jeans remained cold and sleek. The smooth metal brushed against my calloused skin.

I walked up to an old man. His saggy skin dominated his grey tired eyes. I gave him one of my best smiles, and the next second I was in another world. The room cold and the jute carpets under my feet rigid. The straw poked me. I could feel the pain as I was making my way to the other end of the room.
Dim lights flickered spasmodically. There were clay pots and statues around the room. It was an old and traditional room. I kept walking and reached a narrow passageway, which led me into another room.
In this, the bright lights shone on the contrasting black walls. This room was even more cold. The metal on the ground sent chills to my body. I could hear a faint ringing from somewhere. I could see myself in the large stretch of mirrors. Wavy hair flowing back, blue eyes like crystal and my tall and fit physique. The ringing became louder.
My head ached from the noise. Tears rolled down from my cheeks followed by fear and anger. I reached for the gun in my jeans, and pointed it. I could see myself with the weapon in my hand, ridiculously aiming it at my temple. Click!
I could feel life leaving me. My weightless body hit the ground. A black curtain covered my eyes.
I woke up startled. Sweat drenching me and mixed emotions took me over. I was crying of happiness and fear, not knowing what to do. I was the only creature in a tiny, black room. Everything was similar except that there were no mirrors and a gun. I got down the bed, weak. My legs screaming as I got out. I screamed at the top of my lungs. I screamed until my lungs were tired. Pushing the hopeless thought aside, I tried figuring out my way.
After a couple of rants, I gave up. My energy levels were down. My confidence and self-esteem were low. I felt useless. I returned and fell on the fluffy mattress, weeping. My life was ruined. Nothing made sense. Sadness filled my body and gave me different thoughts. This time it’s my life.
I could clearly visualize my body walking across the street. My bag on my shoulders and files in my arm. It was a vibrant day. The sun lazy but active enough to shine. I was walking down in one of the busiest streets, researching on some spices. Cardamom and pepper lingered in the air and I could feel a cold object in my jeans brushing against my bruised skin- my phone.
I pinched myself to check whether I’m dreaming and I jumped from the attempt. I made my way across to the same old man who I had spotted before. His face saggy but young. This time I didn’t jump into another room. I remained still on my legs. I didn’t have to face myself, instead I remained calm. I didn’t have to die. I could remember every single detail of it. I could remember the emotions that I went through. I didn’t know how, but I did it. I was out of my dream which I will never go back to.
THE END