The wind stirred and the blue polythene bag rolled and riffed with it. Being tossed around by wind and mud, the wrinkled plastic bag floated with the wind brushing its hands slowly against the floor and then it suddenly soared into the sky. Weightless, it stretched and narrowed with the wind. There it ascended, it went up and up, slowly, fighting against the wind, and there abruptly stopped, tilted in the air for a while and began to fall down sideways. It’s bloated and gradually fighting against the wind it finally hit the wall. Then, stroking the even white brick liens of the wall, it came rolling down. How elegantly it rolled. 

Rohan walked past it, looking at it in awe. He stopped, stroked his chin meditatively, after much consideration, moved back and leaned in to pick the bag. A second later, he felt a sudden agonizing blow on his back, he stopped, frozen with terror. His body hardened, his knees buckled, his eyes bulged out and he slumped to the floor. He was breathing shakily and the floor was tilting from side to side. 

A dull ache was spreading on his back and he could feel the pit of his stomach tighten. Moments later his stomach erupted and blood came gushing out of his nose and ears. Warmblood had filled his mouth too but he was too wary to lift his jaw and let them out. He lied there, a pool of blood on the floor around his head. When his nose was dipped in blood he couldn’t feel it anymore.

A head turned to his direction and then two and suddenly there was an uproar. People were approaching him, squeezing his shoulder. The noise was becoming unbearable. He squeezed his eyes shut hoping to shut the world away. But with little help. The plastic bag drifted to his direction and engulfed his bloodied head.

Mainali is studying in BIBM 1st semester at Herald College, Kathmandu.