She lay there. Her clothes tattered and body battered. Her eyes were blood shot and wide open with feeble attempts to breath.
The lone moon hanged in the sky, helpless as ever. At the same time, desperately trying to hide under the clouds. “I am the cursed”, the moon thought bitterly. After all, most of the crimes happen at night.
Women are unsafe at night.
Almost every night, somewhere or the other, woman’s modesty is snatched. Her heart wrenching wails goes unnoticed and the devils disguised as man continue to derive physical pleasure. They let her bleed and plead. They laugh like maniacs absorbed by lust.
The moon looked at her. But, she was just a child, around four years old. There was nothing sensuous or provocative about her except the fact that she was a girl.
Heavens trembled and thunders rumbled. But, the amorous men ran to the shade for they didn’t want to get drenched in rain.
However, the little girl who laid there spread-eagled was soaked and surrounded by a pool of blood.