(1/2) STORY : The End of a War3 min read

batman-story-1-krishnasish

The coffee was cold.
Almost as cold as the heart of this city.

Bruce read the mail for the seventh time. The words seemed to carry a voice with them, and it made comprehension a little difficult because it only led him to the brink of a dilemma. He looked at his watch, and then at the mail again.

“It is okay to feel tired, Bruce. Come to Bludhaven. Stay with us for a few days. Let’s see the brighter side of things now, together. – D.G. “

A picture flashed before Bruce’s weary eyes. It was raining. A little boy, with a small hat on, was sitting idle under a lamp-post just outside the monstrous circus tents. He was hungry, angry, and in desperate need of a few words of comfort. He was crying. He was holding himself, trying to stop the shivering. Just above his head was a poster that was coming off in the rains. ‘The Flying Graysons’. For a very brief, fleeting moment, Bruce saw someone else in that kid’s place. He saw himself.

“Master Bruce?”

Bruce closed the mail and turned back.

“From the mail you were reading so intently, I assume that Master Kent is all healed now.”

Bruce smiled. “Clark is fine. He is Superman.”

“And yet you call him Clark,” Alfred smirked, keeping the broccoli and juice by the computer screen that was flashing data indefatigably.

“You’re right Alfred. He is, and has always been, more human than any of us.”

“That’s not what I meant to imply, Master Bruce.”

“This is not from Clark. It’s from Dick,” Bruce opened the mail for Alfred to have a read. The old butler adjusted his glasses and read the short mail twice.

“So what’s bothering you?”

Bruce finished his juice and quietly placed the glass on the tray. After a few minutes of silence he said, “Am I supposed to get tired, Alfred?”

Alfred pulled a chair and settled down. “I have seen Gods getting tired, Sir. You’re only human.”

“Look at this city, Alfred. When I…when you and I…started this, we had a dream. We wanted to cleanse this city. So many years have passed since then. Now I look outside the window hoping to see a bright sun up in the sky but I still find it hidden. Hidden behind a thick veil of dark clouds. When will this war stop, Alfred? Or am I trying to finish a book that has no last page?”

“Sir, you have already sacrificed enough…”

“It’s not about what I sacrificed, Alfred. It’s about what it all culminated to.”

 

To be continued…..

 

-Krishnasish 

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Fatman
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Nice.Waiting for the next part.

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