Tight-lipped they stood...neon-lights, pedastal-fans, earthern jugs. Dull yellow grills on windows budged not in fright. Papery peels of paint froze on brick walls, very much like the jagged wings of a sparrow electrocuted into stillness on serpentine telegraph-wires. A clay basin in the corner tried hard to camouflage its existence, but the incessant tip! top! of murky water-drops from the tap, falling like slender fingers on the black tuning-disk of a tabla, betrayed its intentions. "Hush!", warned the mosaic tile with a garish pink lotus painted on its face...His fellow tiles turned ashen in an attempt to hold their breath as the oval pool of blood started stretching and yawning....breaking into haphazard crimson distributaries, they surged on in a bid to touch the walls.
"Murder!", she had screamed unwittingly the last time...and that was the last of her. They smashed her even while she hung suspended by her cord. All watched in muted terror as they blinded her first with a swish of their hockey-sticks, and then, smashed her fragile bulbous figure with a triumphant stamp of their booted feet....
They were clever this time.
This time their would be no witnesses. No gasps. No screams. No cries.
This time, they would stay just what the animated world expected them to stay...inanimate....yes, just that.
