Indra

"They slay the widow and the foreigner; they murder the fatherless."
- Psalms 94:6

Indra was woken up by the collision of the small wooden boat he was in with- something. Startled by the sound, he got up, rubbing his eyes as they adjusted to the light of day. He was completely naked, wearing absolutely nothing. As the boat bobbed into the object it had collided with, he looked over it's side into the crimson depths of the Blood Sea, the scorching sun reflecting on the ripples of the water. It was a tall thin pillar-like rock, shooting up from the ocean floor and ending up right below the surface. Indra sighed. Thank God the tip wasn't sharp enough to puncture the wood.

He took the large oar in the middle of the boat and started to change the boat's direction to get it away from the pillar. He didn't care where he was heading, he didn't have any particular place he wanted to get to. He just wanted to get somewhere. Anywhere would be better than where he escaped from.

After steering away from the pillar, he dropped the oar down on the boat and collapsed on the wood himself, exhausted. By the location of the sun in the sky he could tell he hadn't been asleep for too long. As his body drifted off to sleep, he thought about time. Time was something that wasn't a constant in his life, whether it was how much time had passed or how much time he had left. As a result he didn't even know how old he was. There was an age where time was essential, his mom had said in many of her stories, there was an age where the world wouldn't have existed without time, where time could be told.
Did time forget us or was it the other way around? Indra thought about it, as he went to sleep.

? Years Ago

"How much time were we talking, Indra?"

Indra, at this age a young child, and his mother were sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace in the middle of their small hut, facing each other. It was a cold night outside, and Indra felt cozy in front of the warm fire.

"2 minutes!" said Indra, feeling confident he finally got it right.

"Wrong. It's been 4. What do I do with this kid... I said a minute was 60 seconds, didn't I?"

"But mom, it's been 240 taps!" Indra tapped rhythmically on the floor emulating seconds passing by.

"240 taps is 4 minutes, Indra! Didn't I teach you math?"

"Ugh, if only there was an easier way to keep track of time."

"Actually, there was once a way to do just that. In the past far before you and I were born there were devices through which time could be told."

Indra's eyes lit up as he heard this. "Time could be told? Why don't we have those devices now?"

"There was no need for them anymore. The devices had become an object were basically useless. We wake up when the sun rises. We sleep when it's dark. There was no need to tell the time anymore. It was useless information. And you know very well what useless information leads to."

"Insanity. Mankind's biggest sin. The disease which dad- dad..." Indra shuddered.

Indra's mother cradled his head in her arms and stroked his hair. "Don't be scared, Indra. I will never let that happen to you."

Indra looked up at her face, which glowed from the light of the fire. "Promise?"

"Promise."

A few weeks, Indra didn't know how many, later, Indra's mother was publicly executed due to being diagnosed with insanity.

Those weeks, Indra realized, he no longer had any memory of.

Present Day

Indra was woken up again by the sounds of large horns blaring into his eardrums. Then came the drums. Loud, ringing thumps he felt deep in his chest. These were the drums of war. He looked up at the fleet of large warships in the near distance. Huge ships filled with soldiers returning from war. The flags hoisted were of his kingdom, under the reign of King Immortus I. The war must have ended, Indra thought. Not long until the next one starts. Peace doesn't stay for too long.

That was when he felt his left arm getting sliced open, with a whoosh sound before the blood spurted out. It was an arrow. He had been spotted by the fleet. Then another came, lodging into his boat. Then another, splashing into the water next to the boat. This was bad. If he kept standing, he'd be dead in no time. Clutching his arm, he jumped into the water, narrowly dodging a barrage of arrows. The arrows zoomed into the water, leaving trails of air as they slowed down, floating.

He was going to die. His escape had been for nothing.

The memory played in his head. After they had deemed him insane, they had arranged an execution similar to his mother's, despite his protests of not being insane. He was to publicly get beheaded in the middle of his village. He remembered the eyes. The look of disgust and fear of the people watching him walk up to the stand. In the crowd were strangers, people he knew and many others he had been acquainted with. And now they were either scared of or disgusted by him. Why should I die like this?, he had thought. Is this insanity? I don't deserve this. So didn't mom and dad. They went through this, the same way I am. I'm not insane, the same way they weren't.

Is this the end? Is this the way I meet mom and dad again?

No, it can't be. I don't wanna die.

I want to live.