Too Many People [Satirical Fiction]

Author’s Note: The following short story is a satirical semi-fiction. The characters and events that take place are purely fictional, while the theme, structure of the story and irony in the plot are inspired from real life. As the narration required the use of metaphor, irony, simile and other literary devices, they are used with artistic liberty at a few areas. As the story contains elements of gore at certain places, reader’s discretion is advised. 

Deep into the woods, when the thick fog envelops the pine forest into a grey cloud on earth, you’ll find the signs of a man who wandered the forest. He wandered and wandered, so much that the howling birds didn’t fly away in fear, for they even knew the scent of his sweat. Vultures followed him to get a taste of the meat that he leaves behind. Reckless animals ran reckless, for they were not comfortable with the idea of ending up in his tummy. He wandered and he wandered. He started to wander there because the last person he was with chopped him into a million pieces and said before leaving – “Hey, you’re a mess. Come out of this cocoon, and you can live happily with other people”. So he decided to stay in the forest. He lived in a cozy house made of wood, which happened to be closer to a river. Probably the sounds of the water were the only thing that reminded him of the human civilization and made him feel less lonely. Not that he didn’t know how miserable that was, but he believed that he had no choice. I hope you understand that there was no internet in the forest and so that means – no motivational YouTube videos on how to feel confident, less lonely and “more extroverted“.

After a decade, an old man came to the forest and lived on the other side of the river. “Hey, I think I recognise him from somewhere”, thought the lonely man. “Oh yeah, I had a life before I came to this place. Must be someone from there”, he answered to himself. Since then, they both started playing a little game. They would start fishing from the river and after a few hours, at some random point, the old man would stop, get up and shout the number of fishes he had collected in his old aluminium bucket.

“27”, and the loner would reply “21”. The old man would smile and walk back to his house. The man with the least number of fishes caught wins.

“50”, “57”, and the smile.

“321”, “410”, and the smile.

“121”, “1”, and the smile.

Whether he won the game or not, every time it was only the old man who was smiling. Probably the loner thought of smiling as an act of a man with bad ethics – an action attached with deception, conceit, kindness and love – all such “Evil Acts”. But he didn’t mind the old man smiling at him. He understood that not everyone were as wise as him.

In this modern era, his days went on like this – he’d get up, drink coffee, wander the forest for supplies, bathe in the waterfalls, build some furniture from pine woods and bamboos, cook food, play with the old man and scribble something in his little wood-bounded notebooks, before going to sleep. And if you’re wondering how he drinks coffee, even he himself wonders as to how he gets his factory made roasted coffee beans. Also, did I forget to tell you that he had a diary-writing habit? He also had a degree from some reputed institution. The degree certificate used to hang in a wall near the front door for all people to see it. The forest was massively crowded with a human population of 2. But you can never be sure – someone might just turn up on this side of the shore and might glance at that degree certificate. Oh god, what would this loner do when the population rises up to 3?

A good decade went on like this and one fine day, while fishing along with the old man, the loner caught a gold skinned fish. Inside that fish, there was a golden fish-hook.

Oh God! Is it possible that there were 3 people living in the forest now? As usual, the old man shouted some number, realised he lost and smiled. But this time, something strange happened – the man smiled back. The old man grinned and they both walked away.

The next day, after returning from his routine walks, the man picked up his fishing tools that were lying outside and headed towards the river. But strangely he couldn’t find the old man on the opposite shore. After waiting for a few minutes, he decided to fish alone. It was a strange new feeling. See, that’s the thing with loneliness. You never realise it unless someone took up that space and then decided to give it back without notice. This strange cycle of loneliness and companionship can follow you to even the densest of the forests you can find.

After a few hours, the man started walking back to his house. Upon reaching the front entrance, he sensed a strange odour coming from his house. As he walked inside, he looked at a scene that his wise old brain couldn’t comprehend – the old man from the other side of the river, was sitting inside the lonely man’s house and reading his books, with a plate of fish fries on the other hand.

The lonely man’s eyes turned red, and he erupted in rage. He ran towards the old man, and sliced his head in half with his axe. The old man’s head was split in half, and his face was carrying the expression of terror and surprise that shook him within a matter of seconds. As the man, pulled the bloody blade out of the brains, he felt empty – an inexplicable oblivion and the sheer silence of death surrounded him. He could do nothing other than screaming and howling loud, until he passed out. A sense of silence and aura was sensed throughout the forest. Eventually, the fish fries that fell on the floor got spoiled – Oh crap!

After a few days, the birds spotted a young lady walking towards the wooden house of “the man who howled”. She looked beautiful in her pale white skirt and her red heels. She walked towards the house which was circulated by blood thirsty vultures. Probably the foul smell that came from the house had attracted the vultures, or maybe they came because of the warm air streams above the house. As the girl entered the house, she was taken aback by a foul smelling, decaying corpse in the hall. Next to the corpse, she found the lonely man slouched back in the chair, with both of his arms hanging out of the armrest. A plate of fish bones was in his lap. The man raised his head and looked at this new guest in his house.

The man’s face was pale and dry, with his eyebrows angled upwards and steep like a praying mantis’s body. The darkest times had consumed his days and he laid there next to a corpse, almost lifeless. The sight of this girl at his door brought a life back to his stale face, and his lips widened a little bit, and then a little bit more into a smile.

The girl walked towards the man, and raised her hands towards the man and said “Come with me. You can live with me in my house at the town”. Using every bit of energy left in his body, the man sprung up and held her hands, took a briefcase filled with books and diaries, and walked away with her.

Days went on, as he lived in the town with his new friend. He refused to live in her house for a few initial weeks, and decided to live in a barn, as he was still reluctant to socialise with the rest of the mankind. Or, probably the smell of horseshit, barley and forage was too comfortable to live with for a man like him. But it did take a few more months for him to get used to this new world. It took way more time for him to comprehend even the simplest of things in this world – like hypocrites, men of irony, political and religious debates, social media, etc. The neighbours thought he was a madman, and the man thought that the world was still stupid and filthy, but bearable and worth it. Over a period of one year, the man started to socialise and smile more.

One fine day, the girl had to go to a nearby town to buy books and chocolates, and to later meet a person she used to sleep with. The man was left behind in the house as he was sleeping hard due to a common sickness. Probably the weather was still too much for him to get used to. The man woke up and realised that the girl had left the town. He made himself some coffee and opened the window grill to enjoy the view outside. Outside, he spotted a vulture sitting on the compound wall and staring at him.

After a few brief moments, something came over to his mind and the coffee cup slipped and fell on the floor. He felt a strange noise coming from the inner walls of his brain. His breathing started to be more rapid and his face turned red. His vision was blurred and he felt a strange, yet recognisable feeling of tightness in his chest. As he couldn’t handle it anymore, the man broke down and cried in absolute pain. With all the energy he could muster, he limped towards a bookstand packed with his books, and took out a leather bounded book. He started to write something in each of the pages and he tore them apart and threw them across the room. White pages with ink and tear drops filled the empty room. After sometime, his breathing was normal and he seemed really calm. He looked outside the window and found a few vultures circling outside the window, and he smiled at them.

After a few brief moments, the wise man took out a rusted old cutting knife that he had hid inside a book, and stabbed himself in his neck for a good 10 times, and died.

The following day, the girl had to see the sight of yet another corpse with a vulture eating its face, in a room filled with pieces of paper spattered with blood. As the vulture flew away due the presence of the girl, she bent down and picked up a piece of paper that was closer to her and read it.

“One million bright sparks. A million thoughts hit me. This is the truest sentence I ever wrote – A million thoughts hit me and I feel it all”

In every other piece of paper, she found the same thing written over and over with a few words broken in between or without completion. The girl sat down at a chair nearby and stared at the face of the dead man. She picked up his books from the rack and began reading them. For days, she read those books, with his decaying corpse lying around. After a few days, she packed the books and a few more of her luggage and left the town for good.

She read all his books and diaries and someday she will reflect back this pain onto someone else.

Maybe there was no forest and maybe there was no river.  Maybe they didn’t live where they thought they did and maybe the man, the girl and the old man were just lonely prisoners in a big psych ward called “The Society”. They never knew and so we can never knew for sure too. But the pain was real and they were alone in it and there was a beauty in that pain.

Only the old man, the lonely man, and young girl knew that beauty in that pain. Only they saw the Vultures. The smiles they shared were a garland themselves, and the pain that they passed was the only self-portrait of the lives they led.

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Too Many People [Explanation via Q & A]