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Insanely Inane Thoughts

If fate doesn't make you laugh, you just don't get the joke.

When sleep becomes death

Manish's face glistened with sweat as he peered over Subodh Chautala's body. His eyes narrowed in trepidation as it met with that of his mentor's. Rakesh's menacing black eyes bored into the confidence of Manish's and with the perceptible nod of his head, he handed Manish the blade. Manish's hand quavered under the enormity of the situation.

"I don't think I can do this," whispered Manish as his eyes darted back towards Subodh, who slept almost serenely.
"You have no choice," said Rakesh coldly as he fiddled with his knife.
"What if I screw up?" asked Manish hoarsely as the cold steel stuck to his sweaty palm like second skin.
"I have trained you well; just follow my cue," said Rakesh as he brought his knife closer towards Subodh's body.

Manish nodded dumbly and drove the knife towards Subodh's body. He was all but there when a strange paranoia gripped his soul by the scruff of its existence. It went against the grain of all the training he had had and yet he spoke out his doubt. The bare room only added to his sense of foreboding.

"What if he wakes up all of a sudden?" asked Manish as his grip over the knife faltered. It slipped through his gloved fingers and dove headfirst towards the cold floor. Rakesh cast an eye at Manish; it was his first but even a fool wouldn't ask such questions. His stare was as cold as the steel that was about to pierce through Subodh's virginal skin.

"Shut the fuck up and do as you are told," barked the coroner as he glared furiously at his apprentice.
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