'The Conquest' by Ganesh Iyer

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His body lay absolutely motionless. Not a hair moved, not a muscle twitched. To the onlooker, he could be dead even. But his mind was delirious. Wave upon wave of relief swept over his body, followed by a blanket of euphoria. He had done it again, not for the first time and certainly not the last. Exhausted as he was, he allowed himself a weak smile.

He had won against all odds. He had been sent for; that evil messenger had arrived on time, as always, with alarming regularity. And as always, with every ounce of energy that he could muster, he had stalled, single handed. He had refused to give in. He well knew what lay on the other side and abhorred the very thought. But in the deep recesses of his mind, he knew it was inevitable; it was only a matter of time, he would have to give in sooner than later. Till then, he would continue to fight. With everything he had.

It was time, yet again. As he sensed it coming, he prepared himself for the battle. He was physically unarmed but his mind set itself into an impulsive set of chain reactions. His eyes tightened, his body tensed, he coiled himself, ready for the final surge. And then as he heard it,  his arm appeared from nowhere and for the third time that morning, with a fell swoop landed gloriously on the snooze button.

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