BOMB-BAI - 26/11

Epilogue
The blood on the newsprint has dried black like ink. The wound is still fresh underneath the crackling dead skin which has begun growing around it. A tempting itch could just open its mouth again.............
The Event
The 25 inch monster sitting atop a pedestal in my drawing room has been spewing gunshots, grenades, fire. I am sitting through it - like under a spell - Am I suffering from Stockholm Syndrome? The siege on the city has kept me hostage before the television from morning till late in the night. Splinters of breaking news are all around me and I fear to get up and walk through it. One might just pierce my heart I feel. It is better here on the beanbag. Maybe I could stay here forever or as long as the terrorists want me to. Its so safe around here. The water bottle next to me - I could just reach out to a helping of snacks. I guess I can live for a couple of days with a bottle of water and some snacks. Well if I just sit here on the bean bag I could conserve all my energy and anyway passivity hardly burns any calories -any way I sympathise with my captor. With so much happening its so difficult to catch up. Maybe my exasperation too will make me lose energy. I should remain calm. I hope I changed the batteries of my remote. I am busy with some serious channel surfing...I should have an eye witness account of every bullet fired, every shrapnel that became alive and stuck deep into some one's skin. As dead bodies start piling up my eyes begin to grow heavy but a screaming headline shakes me up. And then another. I could smell gunpowder in the air. Can someone please open the windows? I have the urge to curl up and sleep and put out the noise. But it is just getting louder and overpowering. Its so claustrophobic was there a bomb explosion here? The soot of the black smoke is writ all over my face, I am gasping for air but they are closing on on me. All of them ..walking right into my house and spreading around behind the television, in the bathroom, in the bed room, in the kitchen, on the loft i know I am cornered...i know i am caught It was not a great idea to stay on the beanbag. I know now I would last only till my captors want me to. One of them thrusts a gun into my chest, orders me to strip. Ashamed by the many set of eyes watching me I begin to undress. First the shirt then my trousers, I stop, one of them pulls down my underwear, another kicks me in groin, I twist in pain clutching my crotch as the make a ring around me. Two of them start pulling my hands away while I desperately try to cover myself . they have stretched me across the floor on my back. I close my eyes in fear they begin laughing hysterically, I can imagine them rolling in laughter and over the noise one of them screams. "Look at you! Bloody Eunuch".