Excerpts from the Outcry
1 It was dark, and the distant landscape was hidden in the dark physical stillness of the early morning. The darkness of the woods got broken into bits with ‘dots of light’; fires borne on tips of wood floated through the woods and the stillness and silence broken by noise. A mob was making its way to the very edge of the cliff where the wood ended. At its very center was a man in his early thirties; bleeding and bruised, with a plea upon his lips, barely heard above the anger of the mob. The mob arrived at the edge of the cliff and without hesitation, dragged this man to the edge and threw him off it. Without waiting to see the end of it they dispersed, their lust satisfied. As the crowd dispersed, a young woman sat at its edge ignored. Her face pale, her breathing labored. The tears still flowed as she sat helpless on the ground. Her pleas for mercy had gone unheard; no one had paid attention to her and the tears kept falling. In the distance the dawn was beginning to break…