The Moving Tornado
Time was like a moving tornado, taking everything in its path along with it on a crusade through its own determined path. Some things remained unchanged and unbroken, but most things changed and broke. More often than not, it brought ruin to the lands and masses.
Rakshasa blinked, and in that blink, the last two months of his existence seemed etched—filled with weariness and a sense of tiredness.
Being transformed from a well-functioning demon into a horse was something most ordinary people would find hard to bear. The fact that he was locked inside a large shack, rarely allowed outside, only added to his misery.
For the past two months, his life had been nothing but a monotonous routine, and he was bored. He had had enough!