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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Ethics / Morality
- Published: 04/12/2019
In the bosom of merciful fangs
It was a sunny day spurring every soul into an unforgettable picnic. My eyes were fixed to the sky contemplating the slow movement of the clouds when it came to me that my fishing rod was under the bed, and then I hurried into the room to fetch it. I fixed myself a sandwich, and then I started my car after having bid farewell to my wonderful wife and my lovable daughter, Sarah.
It used to take me three hours to reach the place, but things had changed royally. The region had known a great deal of change, for there had been a fierce scramble between some of the fast-growing economics over gaining a foothold in this open market and the benefit of which had catalysed flashy infrastructure, which the locals had been lauding for ages.
In a matter of minutes I reached the “Temodo River”, which was teeming with colourful fishes and beautified with a majestic view.
The canoe was still at the same place and in the care of Mr. Adam, a short and plump man, and an older-timer and friend of the family. Once I was on board, I started rowing past three deserted jetties. After a while, I stopped to bait my hook and then cast it into the water in a blink of an eye. Waiting for a chance to catch a fish, I immersed myself in a deep sea of childhood memories of the place.
Suddenly, the waters grew turbulent and what my eyes were catching was the sight of an obscure view.
When I regained my consciousness, I found myself lying on a bed and surrounded by bodies in motion, most of whom were wearing white garments. Two accustomed hands were patting mine, in an attempt to soothe me and to show sympathy without knowing for which reason. Her soft voice was telling me “Welcome back to the land of living, Omar!”
All I could recall was that my canoe had capsized, but the course of the events was detailed by an eye witness, a local whose name I can’t recall.
The man’s account revealed that a hippo, a large creature, attacked my canoe viciously ramming into it at full speed. As a result, the canoe capsized and my head hit an edge of it. What happened next, according to the man’s version, was striking and breathtaking, and the first of its kind he had ever witnessed.
A fight took place involving two huge beasts, the hippo that had attacked me, and a crocodile, in what might have seemed to any passer-by as a normal fight that frequently occurs in the wild to fearlessly defend territory or family. The hippo lost the fight to his rival and left the scene. The man told us that he had immediately started his tireless supplications asking God to save my life, for there was not any possibility of rescuing me from the hideous situation, nor was he able, at least, to catch the beast’s attention and drive it away from me. It surprised him when the animal carried me inside his terrifying mouth and dragged me ashore into a safe place without hurting me. What’s more, the creature let its gaze rest on me motionlessly till I was able to move some parts of my body, and then went back to the water, maybe to celebrate the crushing victory.
A familiar voice came from a corner of the room telling us “It’s Kimmo who saved your life. The crocodile you and your deceased grandpa saved when you were just five years old.” It was my grandma’s voice.
Kimmo neither forgot my face nor how I acted towards him, albeit the physiological transformation that had occurred to me; he still remembered me and my helping him. Words do fail me, when an animal proves an unmatched gratefulness, in contrast to some human being’s stances sometimes adopted in similar situations, in a world where countless people are becoming heartless, callous, and morally corrupted.
In the bosom of merciful fangs(Ismail KAMAL)
In the bosom of merciful fangs
It was a sunny day spurring every soul into an unforgettable picnic. My eyes were fixed to the sky contemplating the slow movement of the clouds when it came to me that my fishing rod was under the bed, and then I hurried into the room to fetch it. I fixed myself a sandwich, and then I started my car after having bid farewell to my wonderful wife and my lovable daughter, Sarah.
It used to take me three hours to reach the place, but things had changed royally. The region had known a great deal of change, for there had been a fierce scramble between some of the fast-growing economics over gaining a foothold in this open market and the benefit of which had catalysed flashy infrastructure, which the locals had been lauding for ages.
In a matter of minutes I reached the “Temodo River”, which was teeming with colourful fishes and beautified with a majestic view.
The canoe was still at the same place and in the care of Mr. Adam, a short and plump man, and an older-timer and friend of the family. Once I was on board, I started rowing past three deserted jetties. After a while, I stopped to bait my hook and then cast it into the water in a blink of an eye. Waiting for a chance to catch a fish, I immersed myself in a deep sea of childhood memories of the place.
Suddenly, the waters grew turbulent and what my eyes were catching was the sight of an obscure view.
When I regained my consciousness, I found myself lying on a bed and surrounded by bodies in motion, most of whom were wearing white garments. Two accustomed hands were patting mine, in an attempt to soothe me and to show sympathy without knowing for which reason. Her soft voice was telling me “Welcome back to the land of living, Omar!”
All I could recall was that my canoe had capsized, but the course of the events was detailed by an eye witness, a local whose name I can’t recall.
The man’s account revealed that a hippo, a large creature, attacked my canoe viciously ramming into it at full speed. As a result, the canoe capsized and my head hit an edge of it. What happened next, according to the man’s version, was striking and breathtaking, and the first of its kind he had ever witnessed.
A fight took place involving two huge beasts, the hippo that had attacked me, and a crocodile, in what might have seemed to any passer-by as a normal fight that frequently occurs in the wild to fearlessly defend territory or family. The hippo lost the fight to his rival and left the scene. The man told us that he had immediately started his tireless supplications asking God to save my life, for there was not any possibility of rescuing me from the hideous situation, nor was he able, at least, to catch the beast’s attention and drive it away from me. It surprised him when the animal carried me inside his terrifying mouth and dragged me ashore into a safe place without hurting me. What’s more, the creature let its gaze rest on me motionlessly till I was able to move some parts of my body, and then went back to the water, maybe to celebrate the crushing victory.
A familiar voice came from a corner of the room telling us “It’s Kimmo who saved your life. The crocodile you and your deceased grandpa saved when you were just five years old.” It was my grandma’s voice.
Kimmo neither forgot my face nor how I acted towards him, albeit the physiological transformation that had occurred to me; he still remembered me and my helping him. Words do fail me, when an animal proves an unmatched gratefulness, in contrast to some human being’s stances sometimes adopted in similar situations, in a world where countless people are becoming heartless, callous, and morally corrupted.
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JD
04/28/2019Even though I know your story is a fictional one, it seemed like a true story while reading, and I could not help but feel amazed at the miraculous rescue of 'merciful fangs' you described. I found it 'inspirational' and entertaining. Great story, Ismail, thank you for sharing it on Storystar! :-)
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Okechukwu chidoluo vitus
04/13/2019It is not a dream... It worked... Don't try God again... Please.. Okechukwu chidoluo Vitus
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