The floodlights

Chaos. More chaos.

The cub, still half-strapped with the stretcher in the middle of the vast cricket stadium, tried to shift to a more comfortable position. He let out a sigh, his eyes still shut tight. The poor thing could feel his fellow tigers munching ceaselessly at the straps—tigers bigger and stronger than him. For that, he was grateful. More grateful than he had ever been in the past. They had already pulled out, not with little effort, the dirty cloth that was stuffed into his mouth. He licked the inside of his mouth, as if to taste his newfound freedom.

He slowly opened his eyes. From the wrinkles around them, it was certain that the floodlights were not on the cub's side.

Then he saw them: blue shadows looming over him. He had seen them before, and he knew he would see them again. Most of them were harmless; some among them even stroked his fur from time to time. Their collective presence nevertheless gave rise to an odd blend of excitement and unpleasantness in his mind. It always did.

The cub finally spoke, his voice almost a whisper. "The floodlights."

"What about them?" someone asked.

"They are unfairly bright. My eyes hurt."

"The floodlights?"

"Yes, the floodlights."

Then he saw them coming: dark shadows looming over the blue ones. Most of the latter disappeared at once. A few remained. The cub could not see their allies, the mice, but he could hear them screeching irritably at a distance.

Chaos. More chaos.

"You talk too much," said a dark one.

"The floodlights are hurting my eyes."

"You talk too much! The floodlights? We shall open the gates and take the lights away."

"Don't…"

"We have done this before. We shall do it again."

The miserable creature had a lot to say, and not just about the floodlights. But he said nothing. He knew it would happen, perhaps seconds, minutes, hours, or days later; it did not really matter.

And it did happen. They opened the gates, taking the lights away. Floodlights did hurt, but without the lights, they were worse.

Chaos. More chaos.

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Dual faces of an unseen predator

The cub was overwhelmed with anger, exhaustion, and agony—a destructive amalgamation. The other tigers shared his wounds; they growled furiously.

He knew the dark shadows. He knew the mice. They would not stop.

But he also knew the tigers—tigers bigger and stronger than him, than the shadows, than the mice. They would not stop either.

Chaos. More chaos?

This is one of the top entries for Khero Khata, Star Books and Literature's monthly writing contest.

Afifa Alam Raisa is a book reviewer and an undergraduate student pursuing Bachelor's of  English at East West University. Apart from being a cricket freak, she is a voracious reader and a passionate writer. She knows very little about herself.