You can read the preceeding parts of this story on my profile.
Standing just a few feet from me was a toddler, in a pair of brown pants and a white shirt. His head was missing. I just stared in awe and terror. Then I noticed something. His fingers. They were so tiny and looked so delicate. His size and the way he stumbled when he walked suggested that he was no more than two to three years old. How did a child so young get decapitated? Who would have the heart to do such a thing? As these thoughts crept into my mind, I began to feel sympathy. I held out a hand towards the little boy, even as my body shook with nervous energy. The child walked towards me and touched my hand with his. And as he did, I was engulfed in a bright white light.
I opened my eyes to find myself back in Kurseong. I was sitting on the grass next to a huge house. I looked down at my hands. Only they were not my hands. They were the hands of a toddler. I saw my hand, or should I say the toddlers hand, reach out for a stuffed bunny and play with it. From the house, a woman emerged. She had a bright, warm smile. Her clothes were very old fashioned. She picked me up and kissed my cheeks. She called me her little bear and asked if I was having fun. I heard a small child say “yes, mamma”. Then I heard another voice, a man’s voice from the house. He was asking the woman to come look at something. “Mamma” put me down and went back in.
I saw myself continue to play, look at the squirrels, hear the birds. I felt safe and happy. Then suddenly, a pair of strong hands grabbed me by my arms. I was being carried off in a hurry with a hand place over my mouth to keep me from making a sound. I felt the stuffed bunny slip out of my fingers. I was placed inside a sack and I couldn’t see what was going on. I felt myself being pushed around harshly and heard angry voices talk in a language that I did not understand. I felt tears pour out of my eyes.
Finally I was taken out of the sack and saw myself surrounded by trees and a bunch of scary looking people. I realized this was the Dow Hill forest. I was right next to the path that my friends and I had walked. The men talked amongst themselves, but when one of them heard me whimper, he slapped me so hard I fell down. They continued to speak in the same angry, awful tone. They would often look at me or point towards me and I knew that I was the subject of discussion. I then saw one of them pick up a large knife, like a machete. He lifted it high above his head and then brought it down on me.