Scaring the shits out of him a young lady stormed inside. He recognised her immediately to be Sara - his neighbour. They stayed in the same barrack quarters. Despite their age difference of ten years they were quite friends. She was physical instructor Mr. Snehashish Dutta's only daughter. This was the man who had cured him of acrophobia. 'What's up? Won't let me in? Whom did you expect at this hour? A hooligan? A fugitive? Well he must be lion-hearted then .. a gem of a criminal .. to have hoodwinked the security. Did you expect an old rival?' When Sara spoke her words flew copiously like a mountain spring without giving the listener any chance to reply. Then eying the bottle and half-filled glass on his table she asked. 'Partying alone?' There was a twinkle in Sara's eyes. 'Just stressed out a bit', he shrugged. 'Well .. lemme guess .. you must've had a fight with your boss .. no .. you have that every other day. Then any particular case you're worried about?' The words were cascad
Now pronounced disability stood around him like the leafless trees smeared in darkness. Nobody was walking. Nobody was standing properly either. Nothing was moving anywhere. A subtle consciousness of mixed emotions - astonishment, sorrow and loneliness formed lumps inside the throat but wasn't able to manifest itself fully in the end. The divine revelation continued his speech above their heads. 'Those of you who have made it till here - the time for your final verdict has appeared. From here the path will divide into two. One goes towards heaven, the other towards hell. A sky-scraping wall separates the two. Positioned on the wall are my dedicated messengers since time immemorial. Judging the karma of your human births they will decide who chooses which path. The door of heaven would never open for those who've insulted me, been rude to others. But those who've never lost trust in me, have been honest throughout their lives, always cared for others shall always find place in heaven.
Copyright © 2019 by Abhik Dasgupta Disclaimer: This is an original work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual places or actual events is purely coincidental. The reference of ghosts, supernatural entities, black magic, occult rituals, superstitions etc. in the content are necessary elements for creation of plot and the author does not in any way endorse or promote the same. The readers are requested to enjoy the story with an unprejudiced mind. Mental illnesses play a significant role in the story. Through the work, the author wishes to raise mental health awareness and tackle the social stigma associated with psychological diseases. All rights reserved. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material including blurbs, descriptions, cover/ promotional photos, teaser, trai
A non-ending, black expanse of nothingness ..A silence broken by sound of liquid trickling ..Was it from the ceiling ?Maybe. Though it didn't seem to be that high .A low-height ceiling ?She closed and opened her eyes a couple of times with the hope of gaining some visibility .. Then strained her ears .. Did some sound get lost into the sound of trickling ? The sound of grinding of some metal plate on something solid .. maybe stone ? Or was it hammering ? Like the sound of mincing of .. meat ? Her nose twitched at the thought. 'No it was just her wild imagination .. the effect of those horror series she loved watching on TV', she tried to convince her mind. 'Hmm .. What have I been watching last night ?' 'Strange!!! Why can't I remember the name ?' she asked herself. She tried to remember the story, instead.A young woman suddenly wakes up to find herself caged inside a dungeon. A masked figure was pulling a body, chained and gagged. It
He ducked below and crouched behind a rear wheel, waiting and changing positions around the cars; while all the time straining his eyes through the little light trickling under the floorboard to watch the movement of a pair of ankles and boots. One delayed or hurried move and he would be found. The sound of thwacking of iron on the pavement followed at intervals. Pressing his mouth with a hand in order to prevent his pantings from being heard, he carried out with the cat and mouse game, well aware of the futility of it.The figure seemed to wait for sometime after breaking a glass, perhaps checking inside the cars for something. He tried to ring the security but no one picked up. 'Why was he running, anyway ?' He was suddenly surprised at his tomfoolery. 'Perhaps this was only a thief stealing car stereos', he tried to cheer himself up. It was quite late and the huge parking lot was empty except for a few cars belonging to the top bosses of the company, who retired home only
I ran down stairs hearing the calling bell ring. I could hardly wait to open the door. The delivery boy gave a broad smile and handed me the box. I looked at the thing neatly packed inside and sighed . 'Remember the days when we were young ?', my wife reminded, flashing her eyebrows.My daughter's indulgence with dolls had taken on a high since she started going to school. She would be enchanted with a new doll for few months, then it would find a place in our store room along with the previous abandoned ones .The figurines of plastic and rubber - stripped of clothes and crippled with an arm or leg, with a missing eye, an ear plucked off, a 360 degree twisted head or body severed from the hip sat on the shelves like clowns leaving her in splits whenever she saw them.She had had her tryst with dolls which came with home furniture and kitchen appliances - the ones which closed eyes when laid down and those big ones which simply looked at you with round eyes and wi
Trying to keep my cool in the face of adversities, I contacted the bus operator and came to know that my daughter had suddenly halted the bus in the middle of the road, stating an emergency and got off near the market. My wife grew hysterical hearing the news and started screaming, while never stopping to blame me for everything . The teacher who accompanied my daughter later told the bus driver that Isha was not feeling well, so she had sent her home.I immediately set off for the teacher's house but when I reached Mrs. Gomes's complex, an one hour drive from my place, she was not there. I had the class teacher's number and learnt from her that on the way to school Mrs Gomes came to know of her mother-in-law's heart attack and immediately had to return back, pack her bags and go. 'And where did her mother-in-law stay ?' I asked excitedly. 'Versova, Mumbai', Isha's class teacher said matter-of-factly.After lodging a formal FIR at the local P.S. I was wondering how to
Turning behind I saw nothing. 'Must be field rats' I thought, looking at the rice fields behind the house and kept walking .A small room led to a big hall and it was here that the smell was more prominent. My torchlight illuminated heaps of cardboard boxes lying on the floor all packed with dolls. So this was Raghu's godown, I told myself. Did he live nearby or his friend had misguided me ? As the light shone on one of the boxes, a barbie doll's face peeped from inside the transparent cover.. I could recognize the company's logo instantly. As I began to open the top cover an uneasiness gripped me . Then I realized this one had a different face. And also a different body.This was ridiculous. It was an older version of Nisha, in fact an old lady wearing a gown and not a young girl wearing fancy dress . Her skin was shrivelled of age and hair dry and unkempt. Out of curiosity I took the doll in my hand and watched it open its hazelnut brown eyes. Wondering why