He crouched lower behind the bush, the dirty green of his jacket merging with the scraggly brush. His eyes narrow searched for them in the gaps between the leaves. Nothing stirred in the soft afternoon breeze. The ragged stones of the footpath stretched out in front of him, uneven, bumpy, chequered by the sunlight filtering through the leaves. On the far end beyond the lawn he saw them, four shapes splattered with red, silent, motionless, slouched against the tree; spread-eagled on the ground, waiting, waiting, waiting.
He turned away sinking back into the bush, the leaves rustling softly. How did it go so wrong, his plan? Well it was easy enough to figure, they had Arjun and Rahul. Individually they were fearsome enough, together it was suicidal to go up against them.
A few metres to his left was the garage, the one that was their fort, their stronghold. Its shutter had been drawn low, rusted now into a permanent open yawn. On this once white shutter, blotches of red sprayed across, memories, reminders of battles won and lost. Mostly lost though, it was a sobering sad sight.
Continue reading “Red and Blue”