Aruzhan

UNTITLED

Aruzhan

Kazakhstan

MY BODY HIT THE GROUND, AND A sharp pain knocked the air out of my lungs. For a few more seconds, I could not breathe. I opened and closed my mouth as a fish washed ashore by a strong wave. When the air finally began to flow into my lungs, I sat down on the grass with a groan.

Still confused and mind dizzy, my eyes scanned the terrain. Red. Everything was red. What is going on!? Somehow, I found myself in the middle of a scarlet field of poppies. Usually, the sight of poppies would fill my soul with warmth. They remind me of my grandmother’s village and hot baked cookies, childhood friends and a beautiful view of small neighbouring houses in the area.

But now, I did not feel any warmth. A strange feeling of coldness washed over me. The field full of my favourite flowers now resembled an ocean of blood. And I was right in the middle of it.

“Legend says that poppies were once as white as a blank canvas.” I gasped and turned abruptly. An unknown man stood beneath me, peering into the horizon with a soft stare. And then his gaze landed on me. For a brief second, I saw another man: younger, familiar.

“However, as soon as the spilt blood of an innocent touched the petals, ruby liquid covered poppies, marking the beginning of an endless era of violence and cruelty.”

Suddenly the wind blew. A chill ran down my spine. The unknown’s eyes instantly cooled. “You. You shed his blood. And for this, I will bring the whole world down on