At a hospital run by public charity, lay a young boy on a small wrought bed. He kept writhing due to the sheer pain in his whole right arm. Two doctors stood by the edge of his bed. The doctors discussed among themselves.
"The wound has worsened to an extreme extent, we will need to cut his arm."
"I'm afraid we have no other choice"
****
The doctor's spectacles were perched on his nose, ready to slip down any moment, he scribbled words on a small tablet that was fastened to a small wrought bed. The following words were stated in it in bold letters.
NAME : MUHAMMAD QASIM (LATE)
AGE : TEN YEARS
YOU ARE READING
Qasim
Short StoryQasim planned to do something again; to harm himself somehow, to get rid of at least some of the work, but to his disconcert, the dagger was no longer perched atop the table and the kitchen knives were blunt. A story based on the early 1940s. This s...
