He was the executioner. The robber of life. The giver of death. *** The king had announced yet another death punishment. The criminal was a young man in his mid- twenties. Handcuffed and blindfolded, he was shepherded to the execution platform. Hoots and cries of the crowd rose in the sky- Kill him, Kill him.
The waves lapped and splashed at the seashore. The trees rustled and swayed in the wind. The crickets hummed and chirped the song of night sweetly, sonorously. But Madhavan could not be lulled to sleep. He squirmed, squirmed, and squirmed on his bed. Dark shadows of confusion and anxiety ran across his heart, his mind,
The Dream Sprang as a brook And I gaily sailed It gurgled, burbled, and sloshed In day Bad dream It barged in In loathe I flew It fluttered, swirled, wobbled In night The Birth Brings a life And we dance with joy To celebrate its advent Always The Death Ends a journey And we mourn
Devils of death descended upon Europe announcing devastation, destruction, and disaster. Stefan worked as a librarian in the State Library in Munich. But now the Library remained shut. Books burned; intellectuals and writers hounded and chased out of Germany. He could rescue very few books and hid the treasure from the prying eyes of the