I never thought I'd deal with horror with the help of a blogpost. I am attempting that right now.

Winter's here, getting food for you has become tougher than useful. They have installed artificial eyes all over the place to keep track of rationed food being used for non-human purposes. I stopped eating the juicy pieces of chicken or weekly quota of eggs that I am allotted as part of mess food. I pack them in tiffin containers when apparently no one's observing, hide them in my jacket and rush back to my hostel room. You aren't always around and when you are, you seldom listen to me. Tasty food is all that  you look forward to.

This evening was supposed to be like the previous few winter evenings. You'd express delight on rediscovering the weekly mess food, wag your tail while you munch on it and after some time, you'll doze off to finish your daily habit of 15 hours of sleep.

It didn't go as planned.

I returned to my room to find the entire placed bathed in blood. I have seen bloodshed in my life. I spent half my childhood in operation theatres, observing my father sew mutilated limbs and reset bone dislocations or mend fractures. Blood used to flow out then but there was a very strong disinfectant used all the time which masked the smell of warm blood.