My name is Alfred Harold Hill. I am a
cartographer for the British Army, Highland Rangers, and XXV Company. And I am
dying. I am writing this journal to preserve my identity and to let others know
what happened and what we went through. I have no idea how long I can write, as
only a few candles are left and the inkwell is half empty.
It is November 12th of 1891, the year
of our lord. Outside the log cabin, a snowstorm has roared for the past three
days. There are four to five feet of snow all around, the passes and routes
erased beneath the relentless snowfall. I have tried to escape the log
cabin only three times, only to turn back, defeated by the snow.
I am 24 years old, my rank is first Lieutenant and it seems like yesterday when we journeyed from the army camp at Dehradun, three months to this day, a Platoon of thirty-five men and with me, and I am the last one remaining, the others dead, or as the Bitak would say, ‘Lo sall Jo kumi haar Jeenu.’ disappeared into the arms of the Jeenu.
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Alfred Harold Hill's story is a mystery that will remain unsolved. To know more about 'JEENU', click on the link below the book cover of 'SHOOTING MR SUMMER & 7 STORIES'.
SHOOTING MR SUMMER & 7 STORIES
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