Find more from this author on:
About the author:
Siddhesh writes stories, which, considering where you’re reading this, makes perfect sense. His best interests lie in writing fantasy, drama, romance, thrillers while he likes to explore themes like power, love, ambition, lust, friendship, psychology, religion, science, philosophy etc. He also enjoys doing things ranging from being a musician, painter, poet and a filmmaker. He enjoys to travel and explore, as should all right thinking people. You can get to his page by searching 'Solo Space Art' on Facebook and 'solo.space.art' on Instagram.
Here is a short sample from the book:
The insides of my mouth were drenched with desire. I could finally see it, right in front of my eyes, just a foot away from acquisition. The man in front of me lay whimpering, his eyes pleading for mercy, dearly clutching his most prized possession. I knew at the back of my head that this wasn't what I was, that the world had made me this way, made everyone desperate. But the instinct of survival was the most powerful force a person could feel. It could make you do things you would never even dream of otherwise. My grip on the crowbar tightened as I glared at the old man, ready to strike. As I raised it above my head, the man gave it up. It fell rolling on the ground, hard sealed and glittering, seducing me. I picked it up and looked at the man whose eyes were blazing with sorrow and helplessness. I sighed and broke the seal of the water bottle and took a long swig. Each drop felt like heaven, cooling the dried patches of my throat, filling me with hope and strength, consuming the emptiness of my body. I never wanted it to end, the orgasmic sensation of clean water quenching my thirst. But the pitiful figure of the man on the ground made me pull the bottle away from my mouth. It was half empty now, half a litre left. I gave the bottle back to the man who took it with shaking hands, the fear still in his eyes.
"Thank you," I muttered and walked away. The subway had been abandoned and been in ruins for years. The place stank of faeces, rotten flesh and piss, the floor damp with I did not know what and had no wish to know. The whole line of the subway tracks was now a hub for the homeless and the sick living out the rest of their days. At least they were safe from the poisoning air outside where a person would choke to a painful death if not for oxygen masks. The most I had been able to breathe in the air outside was fifteen minutes and then I had started to feel dizziness creep in and my lungs cry out for oxygen. It was the year 2157 and the world was coming to an end.