Tora
Disclaimer: This is to testify that the following short story is an original and was written by me, for a college competition. It won first place. This story has not been plagiarised in any form whatsoever, and I request that it in turn is not plagiarised by any reader.
The situation was dire. It was the year 2027. There were a handful of insects left, which did not include the cockroaches, a few cats and dogs, a couple of crows and pigeons, a few dozen fishes of different species, and a lone tiger somewhere in the forests of her state. There had been other tigers, but they’d all been killed by poachers, or poisoned by locals who didn’t seem to care two hoots about the presence of these majestic predators. Tora always knew deep down in her gut that the animals were never going to survive, it was only a matter of time before her premonition came true.
Now you may wonder where all the other animals had gone. You don’t need to scratch your head or waste your precious time wondering when you now have the answer staring in your face. Let’s start with the monkeys, porcupines, bison, boars, and unfortunately, even the peacocks. Well, at the behest of the farming community, the state government in the last decade, decided that these annoying pests were only worthy of being classified as vermin. That made the farmers sing out in ecstasy, “I got guns in my head and they won't go,” we’ve now got them in our hands, so you’re all sport! I guess The Strumbellas’ song, “Spirits”, just earned another meaning. And do you want me to continue with the fate of the other animals and birds? Well, let’s make it quick then. Naturally, humans are fearful of, disgusted by, and bothered by every creature except themselves (though that is questionable too), so they went about killing snakes, lizards (in the words of Tora’s ex-Sociology teacher, “They just have to be killed!”), stray dogs, cats (who likes those sassy, aloof, sneaky little felines anyway, am I right?), and let’s not forget the few crocodiles, leopards, and the rare jackals as well (do we need man-eaters amongst us? I think not!). Development in the state and human activities, destroyed the habitats of hundreds of other wildlife species, but seriously, that is the least of the people’s concerns, except for the few activists, and nature lovers, who I guess have nothing better to do other than take to the streets and protest every good thing that the government wants to do.
Tora fell into that wasteful category as well. She’d written letter after letter to her state leader and the minister who'd been given the forest portfolio, demanding the salvation and protection of all animals and birds alike, yet she’d never gotten a single response or acknowledgement. Guess they were too busy thumping their chests at the milestones they'd achieved, or the number of coconuts they’d cracked while inaugurating progressive projects. See, now that’s the way to take a nation forward! Not by replying to letters, but by getting yourself out there and seeing to it that your state takes first place in being well developed. Who cares if it’s at the cost of endangering the environment, causing species to go extinct, or contributing immensely to climate change? Those issues can be tackled further in the future. And don’t let them fool you about climate change, it’s a hoax! Yet for Tora, animals were the most important thing in her life, animals and One Direction. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could replace the two.
From the time she was a baby, Tora had always been surrounded by pets. She was raised to adore animals, whether they were dogs, cats, fish, or birds. Losing a pet was extremely heartbreaking and always took her weeks to recover. When she was just a baby, she earned the nickname “animal activist” from her mother, and her mother had the perfect story to back this up. It arose from an incident that occurred when Tora was just two years old. It was a typical afternoon. Her mother was in the kitchen preparing lunch when all of a sudden, she heard little Tora yelling in her angry baby voice. When she went out to investigate, she found Tora yelling from the window of their enclosed, second-floor balcony at a group of unruly schoolboys who were in the process of destroying a sparrow’s nest in the shop shutters opposite their building. Tora was so enraged that she screamed her baby lungs out until the boys had walked off.
Now I know you’ve been dying to ask me the whole point of this story. Well, no doubt this story is dedicated to Tora. What happened to her? I’ll tell you. So, it was the summer of 2027 and despite the killer heat, Tora decided that she wanted to investigate what was left of the forests in the south. She didn’t need anyone to accompany her; she was good enough on her own. And the best part was, she didn’t need a supervisor, or a guide, or any permission to enter the forest. Thanks to the government’s and the Forest Department’s lackadaisical attitude, anybody could enter for any reason. All she needed was to be aware of her surroundings and ensure that she didn’t get lost.
On that hot summer morning, Tora set out on the trail that led deep into the ageing forest, armed with enough food to last her till evening, a good amount of water, first aid, and light clothing that would combat the heat- her favourite orange t-shirt paired with dark brown shorts, sturdy trekking boots, her camera to shoot any wildlife she could spot, and other trekking essentials. The surroundings were dead silent, normally an indication of a predator in close proximity, but in this case, it was simply because there were hardly any animals left to liven up the forest.
As Tora moved deeper and deeper into the thick growth, something began weighing heavily on her heart, but she couldn’t seem to pinpoint what it was. With every step she took, it kept growing heavier. The crunching of the leaves beneath her boots sounded increasingly like bones being split in half. Granted, the ghostly silence of the forest was driving her to despair, but there was something else, almost like a nagging sense of foreboding plaguing her core. And then she heard a twig snap somewhere behind her.
Tora quickly turned around but spotted nothing. She brushed aside the sound, blaming it on her paranoid mind. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was now being watched by unseen eyes. She thought for a split second about turning around and heading back to the start of the trail, but the hope that she might be able to stumble upon any wild animal or bird drove her forward. That’s when she heard a gunshot, then she felt a whizzing just above her head, and without wasting a second, she ran. She heard the shouts of at least two men behind her who were giving chase, and in her terrified heart, she knew she was being hunted. Tora wasn’t an excellent runner, but at this moment of life and death, she ran like Forrest Gump.
It felt as though she had been running for a good ten minutes, ducking from branches and leaping over exposed tree roots and shrubs, yet the hunters were hot on her heels. Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain in the back of her right thigh, which made her fall to the ground. As her hand touched the spot, she felt a warm liquid embrace her fingers, and she realised she had been hit. But she couldn’t stop, she had to continue, she had to escape these hunters before she became their next trophy. Her pace now slightly reduced, Tora limped her way through that deathly forest, determined to survive, until she heard the cawing of a crow.
She turned to look at the Sal tree on her left and was met with the sight of a lone crow, staring deep into her eyes. She then felt the second bullet pierce her back and she fell like a house of cards. As Tora struggled to lift her body on all fours, she looked down at her hands. In place of her hands were two large, furry, orange paws, and she felt her body had become heavier. With the final ounce of her energy, Tora hurled herself forward, just as the hunters appeared behind her. The wound in her back was oozing blood, but she had to continue. She couldn’t let herself become another trophy. The crow had been flying alongside her, and she considered this a sign of encouragement. But all too soon, exhausted from the endless chase and loss of blood, her strength began to wane. A third bullet hit her left thigh, and she crumpled.
As the vultures circled around her with guns in their hands, Tora did her best to keep them away from her, striking out with her razor-like claws. Yet all they did was laugh at her, their mocking eyes boring straight into hers. One of them shot her again, in the stomach this time, and the other bellowed with laughter. Tora could feel her life ebbing away, but she couldn’t let go. She had to stay for the others. She couldn’t become another one of their trophies, another one of their victims, another startling reminder that these disgusting monsters ruled the world.
The lone crow now silently watched from a distant tree. He watched as the hunters circled the fallen predator with their ferocious gazes, talking animatedly about their accomplishment. With a dejected last look and a mournful cry, he took off from the branch. He couldn’t stand the sight of the last tiger lying dead in the middle of the trail, blood seeping from its forehead.
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