I Hate To Die Virgin…. (Speculative Fiction)

 

            By: Kaleem Butt

Oh God!

No, not the termites...

Please...please...

Are you there.... Can you hear me....!

 I hate termites....baldy killers...

No... no, please I am begging you to save me...

I don't want to die virgin; you know full well I hate to die virgin.

 And that too on the hands of these monstrous termites....

Many of my kind have suffered on the hands of these little beasts called the termites. They are deadly creatures...

 Oh God! Please help me out, they are nearing me.....

I hate to die virgin....

 Please....please....please....my enemy is nearing me and I am petrified by the sight....

I curse the day I was brought here, it was some three months ago and since that day I have been neglected by the person who brought me to his home, that idiot has not touched me since then....

Oh God! Can you perform some kind of miracle and save me from this terrifying group of termites and the painful death on their hands....

But what was the need to create the termites in the first place....!!
Ya, ya.... I know that story by my heart....

Alright, alright I'm repeating it here.... But don't you think it's mean at this very moment when my death is approaching me at such a rapid speed; you want me to glorify my killer.... So then it is true that we live in a cruel world full of predators, but why me…… Don’t you know I hate to die virgin…

Alright....alright, as thy wish....

I'm ready to glorify… praise…hail or whatsoever, my killer....

 Yes, we truly live in cruel world.

And here we go:

According to the tradition of Semitic religions there lived a prophet named Solomon, who had power over all the earthly creatures.... he could even hear the ants talking, and the mighty djinn were his slaves.  

Dear me.... One day Prophet Solomon along with his army entered 'the valley of ants', seeing the sight of Solomon and his army a female ant cried out to her fellows:
“Get into your inhabitations, lest Solomon and his army crush you (under foot) without knowing it.” Prophet Solomon understood it and prayed for being blessed with such a gift and was able to avoid trampling the valley of ants. However, the termite has no role to play in this part of story but it has a very important role when angel of death approached Prophet Solomon. It is narrated that the djinn boasted that they had this knowledge of unseen and for that one reason they considered being superior to other creation. So Prophet Solomon, who had enslaved the djinn made them to toil hard in building structures. One day he stood there on his staff to keep an eye on the naughty djinn community, when this happened:
“Then, when We decreed (Solomon's)

death, nothing showed them (djinn) his death  except a little worm of the earth, which kept (slowly) gnawing away his staff: so when he fell down, the djinn saw plainly that if they had known the unseen, they would have not tarried in humiliating penalty (of their task).”

And my dear that little earthly worm is said to be a termite. What a little beast…!

Now imagine group of such a beast is approaching towards me at the very best speed it has known all its life. 

Can you believe it, these little beasts have a queen….yeh….a queen, who is allowed to lay hundreds of eggs at a time to produce an army of these deadly beasts, so that they could attack on anything they want…

Just imagine.... have I told you many of my kind have suffered at the hands of this monster.

 Killer....killer....killer.... Why the hell am I referring these fast approaching termites as singular....!! Perhaps I have lost my mind and wit too seeing my death closer to me. I am petrified...

 I cannot use the phrase ‘I am about to wet my pants...’ as humans do, why not? Because I don't wear any pants... I have never worn any pants... (so I can’t even use my poetic license to use that phrase even at the time of my death).
Oh come on...! I don't roam along naked.... my nakedness is hidden behind the covers...But let me assure you my nakedness has never brought any shame to me, on the contrary I am often praised when I am out of my covers....
I am part of this cruel world, my killer is quickly approaching me.... and I am left all alone.... No one is coming to help me....

Miracles don't happen in this cruel world; for sure I am going to die at the hands of this merciless group of termites. I have already glorified my killer....so don’t put any blame on my shoulders at this precise moment.

I hate to die virgin.... Dying virgin is a cruse....

 Let me tell you at this very last moment of my life, I am not the first one of my kind to die virgin, many of my brothers and sisters (of course from different mothers) have died virgin crying they hate to die virgin. But it is never our fault, we enjoy being fondled, picked up in soft hands, we enjoy the warmness of a lap, if it happens to be of some beautiful daughter of man waiting for her lover's embrace...
Many of my kind have seen glorious days, due to which they entered this interesting cycle of being born again and again and, known to man as 'rebirth', though a different word is used for my kind. Many of my kind are treated as 'holy of the holies’; they are kissed out of love and reverence. 
Sons of men are often heard saying that my kind has guided them in every walk of life. For a long, long, let me say very long period I remained a good friend to sons of men. In our reverence they have built huge structures for us, so that we could be protected from any mishap, they have cared for us, they have kept us save from these monsters called termites, and other evils some of which are man-made.

And why not…..my dears….

Many secrets are hidden under my covers, and don’t forget those fantastic stories about men of courage, or about mysterious women, or of creatures that never existed in real, but are still hidden under my covers.

But my dears, every one of my kind doesn't share the same fate. Some of us like me are simply termed as ‘poor unfortunate fellows, died too early, chewed up the termites…now go to hell I’ll bring the new one…”

 We are persecuted by these evil termites, some of us die virgin without being picked up by warm soft hands or if you want to call them soft warm hands.

 I simply put myself into the category of the unlucky ones.

 Many of my kind have been thrown in fire, while others have been torn, or thrown away to the pigs (in my case the termites).

To be fair with you, allow me to tell you that even we have evolved from time to time into different shapes and sizes, and have got new bodies, but still those new bodies require a touch, that simple touch, a mere touch of men’s (women included) fingertips… that touch is as a lifesaving drug for us.

But it is not my fault at all, it is the fault of that bastard who brought me here three months ago, and since then he has forgotten me as though I am a piece of shit!
My killers are nearing me.... let me close my eyes and curse that bastard who brought me here and completely ignored me...

 I am about to die.... I hate to die virgin... But fate is fate.... and shit like that....!
You must be wondering who am I…?

Sorry for that late introduction, didn't I tell you that at the beginning.... I must have told you that at the beginning.

Well shit then, I must be petrified seeing my death at such a close distance... and that too at the hands of these monstrous termites....!

However, as you say: ‘it's never too late...'

I am a 'Book', and I hate to die virgin.....