The story, updated

Each part of the story is hyperlinked to its contributor:

He had always known that silence spoke volumes, unfortunately it was in a language he failed to decipher on most occasions.

A long pause. He stared for what seemed liked ages. It made little sense. May be it wasn't meant to be. He shrugged and looked at his friend.

The pregnant silence was ruptured by his friends intermittent sobbing. Today was Diwali, it was supposed to be the "Festival of Lights", but things were different tonight. "Lights out", yelled the Jailor.

The lights went out and the virgin night was silent and dark again. But, then was he reminded of his lover whose murder brought him here. All of a sudden, the summer heat in the cell, felt dreadfully cold, when, every moment of his past life flashed in front of his eyes as he stared at the writings on the wall.

It was scribbled all over, by previous inmates of the cell. Murderers, as they called them. But maybe there were not murderers, he thought, just like him. Maybe they were just misunderstood. After all, he had to kill her, so he could be sure, that she would never feel pain again.

He had loved her from the moment he gazed into those blue green eyes, he had loved her when those very eyes had looked at him beseechingly for the last time and he had loved her for every passing second in between. But all this was lost on the anti euthanasia lobby who had vehemently screamed murder as his case had hit the headlines.

It all began on a silent winter morning. The cold had crept in without its whistling army of winds. The small town slept. Wrinkled in cold, as glowing fireplaces let out splinters of warmth. Unexpectedly silent.
But he was awake. He was always awake. Sleep and he had parted ways three summers back. Since then every time his eyes closed, the mind played stage to that dramatic night.

It had been there, too... the silence. Agonising. All-pervasive. Alive with things unsaid.

He had known that the she was in pain. Excruciating pain. He had called in A long sequence of doctors. Unable to believe 'the verdict', he kept taking 'another opinion', desperately seeking someone, somewhere, who would say something different from what they were all saying. Desperately seeking one doctor who would give him some hope. Desperately seeking a straw to clutch at, as he felt himself inexorably drowning deeper. There was no hope. There was just a time limit.

The tag has been passed on to Peg (dont know her blog address though).