The Horrormeister

Difference between guys falling in love and girls falling in love

2011-05-05T16:20:00.000+05:30

Empire Of Dogs

2010-03-23T19:49:00.002+05:30

Scared

2009-12-25T09:58:00.005+05:30

It’s midnight and the bus screeched to a halt at the bus-stop. The conductor pushed the door open. I alighted from the bus and observed the signpost. Yes, this is my destination, I told myself. A few hours back, I got a call from my parents asking me to come to my grandparents’ village for my grandfather had suddenly taken sick.

A gravelly road ran across the vast plains to the village. The moon’s shining brightly above me, and I didn’t even need a torch, needless to say, these remote villages do not have electricity.

I am reminded of my childhood holidays I’d spent at my grandparents’ place. Grandpa and grandma would tell me stories which I used to listen with great interest. The only thing that I never liked about them, they always quarreled. Last year, they had a bitter quarrel and my grandma had hurled abuses at him and cursed that he would die a miserable death. And my grandfather had returned the curse by saying that he would haunt her till her death.

Lost in my thoughts, I seemed to have walked a long distance from the bus-stop. I looked around; the vast stretches of the land were barren except for scattered vegetation. Not a single soul in the visible horizon. My legs started to tremble and my heart started to skip a beat.

The loose clips suspending from my bag were striking against each other and were making weird sounds. ‘Sanjeev….’ I heard someone call me, a whisper, when fear gushed from my spine and surfaced as goose bumps on my skin. I stopped there and stood motionless, not knowing if I should turn behind. The surroundings were tranquil again. Silence is sometimes scary.

‘Sanjeevvvvvv………’ I heard the whisper, this time, more clearly as if the thing was gaining on me. Shivering with fear, without even looking back, I broke into a sprint. Somebody was behind me, I clearly heard him call my name. It wasn’t the wind. It wasn’t my imagination.

The village was getting closer and I mustered all my strength and ran faster and faster. As I reached the village I slowed down, and was gasping for breath. I have never experienced such a thing in my life before. Whatever it was, scared the shit out of me.

There was nobody in the village. Not an uncommon thing though, people living in villages are seldom awake at this time in the night. But this didn’t bother me. I was all alone. If the thing that followed me at the outskirts attacks me again, I would have nobody to come to my rescue. But my thoughts seemed to kill time and I’d already reached my grandparents’ home.

I expected relatives and others, around, but there wasn’t anyone. Perhaps they were all inside, I walked to the door and knocked at it. The door was not locked though. I gently pushed it open. It was eerily dark and that there was no one inside made me cringe in fear.

I switched on the torch and flashed it around. The house was empty. There are no chairs, no tables. As I frantically searched for everyone, I just realized that I’d seen something move. I heard a low purring sound and I could gauge its distance from me, by the soft platter of its feet and the claws striking the ground. I flashed my light in the direction of the purr.

I saw two glowing red ambers and I jumped back in terror. The torch slipped out of my hand and rolled on the ground. The beam had circled the walls of the room before the torch stopped rolling. I slowly extended my hand to fetch the torch when I suddenly saw on the wall, a shadow emerge from a corner, so huge and so dark, so ghastly. I pulled the torch and flashed the beam. The cat, phew, how much it had scared me.

Then I heard a low wail. I flashed the torch in that direction. I was even more freaked out. A woman was sitting down on the ground with her hands folded and her head buried into her knees. A banshee? What if it is someone whom I knew? I gathered all my courage and walked to her. And put my hand on her.

In the faint moonlight, I could see the wavy hairs and as she slowly raised her head, I could see her face weighed down by old age as seen from the wrinkles on her forehead.

“Grandma?” I shrieked in delight. There was no sign of joy on her face. She again buried her head and started to cry.

“What’s wrong grandma, where are others, where is grandfather?” I held her knee and shook her.

“Grandpa suffered a stroke and passed away on the way to hospital. Everyone had gone to pay the last rites,” she sobbed.

“Why did they leave you alone?” I was angry at them, for they shouldn’t have left her behind, all alone. She didn’t reply. “Let’s go and get you some sleep,” I tried to comfort her.

“No,” she screamed pushing me aside. “I will not go into that room, its haunted, haunted by your grandpa’s ghost. He said he would come back to seek his revenge, and he will keep his word,” she spoke with such assertiveness that I almost believed in what she had said.

“Our fear is the ghost. There are no ghosts,” I told her as I led her to the room. The door was huge and was made of rosewood. Only a man of my grandfather’s stature can open it effortlessly. I had to push it hard enough, and then it slowly moved on its hinges, with a creaking sound.

The room, for it was properly ventilated, was illuminated with the moonlight. The giant rosewood four-poster stood infront of us projecting a splendid and a magnificent look. The rocking chair would have missed its owner, but for its inanimateness would never let us know.

I helped grandma climb the four-poster and as she lay on the bed, I pulled up the quilt. “There are no ghosts,” I reemphasized, “I will be sitting on the sofa over there.”

She smiled back at me and I loosened my clasp. I was tired partly because of the journey and partly because of the unknown thing that made me run. I slowly fell into a gentle slumber.

It must have been an hour or so, when I was woken up by a thumping sound. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The heavy four-poster was up on two legs and it came crashing to the floor. This repeated for two to three times before it finally stopped.

Silence ruled the surroundings once again. I immediately ran to the bed, whispered, “Grandma, get up… get up, we need to get out of here” and jerked her, trying to wake her up.

She pushed the quilt aside and stepped down from the bed. I looked around while she held onto me, firmly. Outside the window, the branches shook gently under the wind, and the wind howled in the trees. The rocking chair creaked on its own and swung back and forth.

Grandma clasped my hand tightly as we started to walk towards the door. As I placed my hand on the door, I was thrown aback as if somebody had pushed me with brute force. The doors suddenly closed on their own and banged against the sill.

The room was freakishly cold. I could feel the malice and the deep rooted hatred. This couldn’t be my grandfather. It was even more evil. Or perhaps it was him?

“Sanjeevvvvvvv, don’t……” I heard the same chilling voice again. The voice sounded very clear and was very familiar. Grandma was frightened downright. I could feel her hands tremble in fear.

“See, I told you he’ll come,” she said in a tremulous voice. I flinched at the sight of a man in the rocking chair appear and then vanish in quick succession. The shadows of the branches outside the window, cast on the walls, suddenly started to grow in size. They looked like giant arms trying to grab us.

I ran to the door and tried to open it frantically. The door suddenly opened and I held the hand of my grandmother literally dragging her out as we ran away from the house.

My grandmother who was looking behind all the time shrieked, “There he comes.”

I never looked behind, all I had to do was to get as far as I could from the house. As we ran into the streets, I realized that the huts and other houses had been deserted. Not a human being or an animal in sight. The entire place had been abandoned.

Something sinister had happened. Grandma was already panting and covered in sweat, and so was I. In a few minutes we had reached the gravelly road that leads to the bus-stop.

‘Sanjeevvvvvv, don’t…….’ the same haunting voice, I heard again. Why me? Grandma was already dead tired and she collapsed to the ground. I heard a low whirring of a bus; we’d almost reached the main road.

But grandma was not in a position to move. I loosened her grip and started waving my hands and shouting for help as I ran towards the bus. I’d almost reached the main road when I looked behind.

An apparition was sitting on its knees next to grandma. It hadn’t taken me much time to realize that it was the ghost of my grandfather.

His skin was very pale. And the thick blue veins formed striations that swelled through his skin. There was no sclera in his eyes. They were so dark that you feel that you will be sucked into the vast emptiness if you stare at them for a while.

There was no smile on his face and the lips were chapped. And he ran his whitish hands over the face of my grandmother; she became more and more lifeless.

I was scared. My grandfather’s ghost was looking at me with the totally blank eyes as he sucked the life out of my grandmother. I was scared. A chill ran down my body, the warmth slowly vanished. My legs couldn’t carry me anymore and I slowly fell to the ground.

‘Sanjeev, don’t be afraid,’ I heard the voice very clearly and then everything suddenly blanked out.

**************************************

“The same result again, from the MRI scan,” the neurologist said. Nothing’s changed. “It’s a very peculiar case. He was pronounced brain dead when he was admitted to this hospital. But there wasn’t a complete necrosis of the cerebral neurons.”

“Shock pushes him into a dream like state, and then he remembers what had happened a few minutes before he jumped into the current state. In the state of shock, his eyes and ears seem to carry some message to his brain which is otherwise in a vegetative state”

“So there is no way in which he can recover?” the psychiatrist asked.

“This is amygdala where fear memories are formed,” he said pointing to a portion in the scan, “as compared to the normal brain, this fear is inhibiting his brain from sending and receiving responses. And hence his comatose condition.”

“In simpler words, if he needs to wake up, he should not be scared.”

“Let us start the shock treatment once again”, he said.

**************************************

It’s midnight and the bus screeched to a halt at the bus-stop. The conductor pushed the door open. I alighted from the bus and observed the signpost. Yes, this is my destination......

The demon

2009-10-29T21:23:00.000+05:30

"The reasons why puncturing the skin should be regarded with some degree of awe are not far to seek, for in the first place, there is the drawing of blood, which to the savage world over is full of significance as a rejuvenating and immortalizing factor. There is in addition to the opening of numerous inlets for evil to enter. . ." (Hambly Wilfrid D. 1925. The History of Tattooing and its Significance, p. 233)

Every ghost story normally starts with the protagonist being a paranormal skeptic but finally ends with him believing in the inexplicable phenomenon. But this is different. I’ve always believed in the negative energy; ghosts, elves, demons do exist, in the same world in which we live.

This may sound as weird as it can be. But this only bolstered my belief in demons. It was a perfect winter night. A thick fog engulfed the street, which was more desolate than ever before. Few hippies were making themselves comfortable in front of a bonfire. There was a chill surrounding me. I would’ve considered that normal but for the reason why I and my old friends are meeting over.

The streetlights flickered; an electrical disturbance is always an indication of an evil lurking around the corner. I could hear a dog howling at a far off distance. With hands in my coat to keep myself warm, I ambled towards the old building at the street’s end.

Over the past few days in Tia’s life, some abnormal events had occurred that finally led to her death. Niki too died under suspicious circumstances. I’ve seen their bodies, post mortem. In both cases, it was clearly evident that they’d undergone through a great deal of pain and anguish at the time of their death, though there were not any marks of external injuries that could’ve caused their death.

The only thing that seemed weird to us is the fact that Tia visited a psychic, days before she died. The very next thing that plagued my thoughts, Was she possessed?

We had invited the psychic, old man Joe too who had been treating Tia.

My friends were already waiting for me. As we started to greet each other, an elderly gentleman knocked at the open door with his walking stick.

“That must be old man Joe,” a voice from the gathering spoke out.

“I can feel the presence of a negative energy. It’s so bad,” old man Joe said as he walked towards us. He adorned a white beard and his cheeks were full, and looked very healthy for his age, except that he carried a walking stick.

“It is very close by. I can sense it. It’s very strong. It’s not a human spirit. It’s far more powerful..” he spoke and held his head. He was about to fall when one of us helped him sit on the chair.

He took a deep breath and looked at all of us.

“Sir, we know that Tia had visited you on some purpose. In case you didn’t know, she passed away a few days back,” I said when his face turned pale; clearly he looked scared.

“Does anyone believe in ghosts?” he cleared his throat and started to speak louder. I wanted to say an ‘Yes’ but fearing that my friends will make fun of me, I remained calm.

“There are a few believers as there are nonbelievers,” he said staring at me. I felt very uncomfortable by the way he stared at me.

“Your personal belief has nothing to do with their existence. The devil has existed long before man. Different religions have different ways of explaining their existence. For example, Christianity says that these devils are nothing but fallen angels.”

There was a long pause.

“A man of science may not believe in demons and ghosts, because his observation is purely based on his sensory perception. But is that all? There are more things around us which we cannot see and which we cannot feel. Has anyone of us ventured into the dark, all alone? Well, let me not deviate...”

“... There are spirits surrounding you and so are the demons. A devil or a demon is different from a spirit in the sense that a spirit may be human, the soul of the same person. But a demon is not human, though it may infest a human being. A demon is something more powerful, filled with more negative energy and hence you attribute the terms rage and malice to it; negative energy, obviously means destruction.”

The skeptics looked perplexed and unconvinced while I, the believer knew whatever he was trying to say was perfectly true.

“We don’t understand the connection,” a voice from amongst the skeptics, spoke.

Old man Joe took a deep breath, “Your friend Tia consulted me, after she started having visions. It’s a very rare case of possession, when the person possessed knows that she’s been possessed.”

“What visions,” yet somebody interrupted again.

“Visions of a demon, she could feel it inside her, the coldness and the deep rooted hatred. The moment Tia stepped into my place, I felt it too. Never before have I felt so much negative energy concentrated in a single entity,” Joe answered.

“So why Tia and how did it find Tia,” I asked him. He leaned back gaping at me, “That’s a nice question. I don’t know why Tia, but I can explain how it found Tia.”

“Demons as I said are a form of negative energy. And as your laws of physics would state that most forms of energy need a medium to be transferred, a demon would need a medium too. Hence they choose vulnerable people, why people, why not animals is again a case of convenience; humans are dexterous and adept at performing many things which animals cannot do. Why vulnerable, to attain complete control of the being. And the inlet for it to enter Tia’s body was a tattoo on her hand.”

He paused for a while, as we all panicked and started to sweat. Perhaps, Joe hasn’t noticed this and he continued.

“The art of tattooing is not a fashion statement alone. Tribes from various parts of the world throughout ages have tattooed religious and spiritual symbols on their bodies to denote their statuses, talismans to ward off evils etcetera.”

“She had a sigil tattooed on her arm and when she showed me her tattoo, I knew it was something related to demons. The tattoo resembled closely the insignia of Lucifer, Azazel and even Baphomet. My limited knowledge on tattoos couldn’t give me an idea of the demon but for sure I knew how the demon had entered her,” He paused for a while and noticed our pallid faces.

“You do know something about the tattoo, don’t you?” he questioned.

All of us nodded in affirmation. And then one after another we raised our sleeves to show him the tattoos on our arms.

“Oh God!”

“It’s the same one I’ve seen on her arm,” he cried aloud and jumped out of his seat. He collected his walking stick and started to walk away chanting some prayers.

“I am not involved in this, I am certainly not involved in this,” he said as he approached the door. “You all are going to die. This demon is so wicked that it will consume you all. You cannot escape its fury... May God save you all,” he said as he slammed the door behind him and walked away.

Inside the room we were looking at each other’s face, not knowing what to do next. The door suddenly opened with a thud much to our bewilderment and fright. A huge dark figure stood there at the door with a gleaming knife in his hand. It was old man Joe again. I saw him grip his fingers around the hilt and he slowly walked towards us.

“Watch out,” somebody shouted.

“We are four, and an old man can never match us,” another was confident.

As we were about to pounce, he stopped us, “let me do it please, the only way you can save yourselves” and without warning he thrust the knife into Jeremy’s arm. Jeremy screamed in pain. And Joe dragged the knife down Jeremy’s arm, tearing apart the skin.

“Now the devil shall not find a way to enter your body,” he exclaimed triumphantly.

Jeremy writhed in pain holding his bleeding arm. Joe then looked at me and proceeded to cut the flesh containing the tattoo part.
I found his theory credible and logical. We all thanked him for saving us and then we left the place with a heave of relief.

Few days later, I received a call from Jeremy, “Jonathan is dead just like Tia, just like Niki...”

A chill ran down my spine. I pulled back the sleeve and looked at my arm from where the tattoo was cut. The wound was healed but there were no traces of the tattoo.

How can this be? We have closed the door for the demon to enter. How could it have possibly killed Jonathan?

“What if the demon has already entered our bodies even before old man Joe sealed the inlet?” Jeremy’s voice quivered from the other end.

“We will have to reach old man Joe as soon as possible,” I suggested.

The very evening I reached his home. An elderly gentleman opened the door. His cheeks were tucked in but he was cleanly shaven, and his forehead, wrinkled. There was a magnetic charm in his eyes.

“I have come to meet old man Joe,” I spoke.

“I am Joe, please tell me,” he said.

I was shocked to hear that. “Y..you... Joe...” I stammered. And he nodded. “Any problem Sir?” he extended his hand. I just pushed him and ran away.

I don’t know how far I ran, for how long I ran. I stopped by a tree far away from old Joe’s home. I was panting heavily; my mind was blank except for the person’s face I saw during the meeting, that white beard and broad forehead. This man looked puny.

Who could that be? Could he be the devil himself? He cut the tattoos from our skins so that he could seal himself permanently inside us?

Thousands of questions crisscrossed my mind. I don’t know if I’ll ever find the answers. Recently I came to know that Jeremy too had passed away in the similar fashion.

I’ve started to feel it inside me. I suddenly suffer with bouts of cold breaths. I feel that my energy is being sapped away and a pointed object being shoved into my heart with so much thrust that I writhe in pain. My spine freezes that I refuse to move lest it might break. In that moment of vulnerability I see the demon inside me. There’s so much malice and fury, so dark and so evil.

I’ve isolated myself from the rest of the world. I live in the dark and dingiest corner of my apartment, hiding and trying to save my life. I don’t know when it’s going to devour me, inside out. I just count my minutes and await for it to consume me.

What would you do? Will you believe that you are possessed and that you are under the influence of an evil power? When your rational mind cannot explain things that have happened and are still happening before your eyes? When more particularly you know that for no apparent reason you’d killed your friends who you’d loved throughout your life!

The last hunter

2009-09-29T21:21:00.003+05:30

The following is a work of fiction that revolves around a fact.

The blades of the grass swayed from side to side by the prevailing upwind. The cirrus clouds floated swiftly in the azure sky. The shadows they cast moved even swifter and the entire grassland looked like a giant tiger’s glossy coat being brushed by the wind.

The silver radiator-grille of the 1919 model open top Cockshoot Tourer glimmered under the sun as the car chugged up the road and we reached the highest ground. The Maharaja impatiently gripped the front seat and stood up, looking around in anticipation. He signaled the driver to stop when he’d sighted a gazelle at some distance.

There, he pointed his finger in that direction. The grass in these parts of the world grows to a staggering height of one and half metres making this a perfect hunting ground for any predator. But the same provides a perfect cover for the prey too.

Amidst the ashen coloured grass, I saw a fully grown horned beast with an alternating brown and white coat and the distinctive black streak across its back that could be accounted for its visibility from a quarter mile.

It raised its head and looked around cautiously. The whirring of the engine was too low to scare it away. The gazelles have a very keen auditory perception, to warn them of their predators. Even the slightest deviance from the norm could make our hunt flee the place.

Unaware of the hunter, the gazelle again stooped low to eat the grass.

The Maharaja pulled a rifle from the front. His rifle was one of a kind, specifically designed for long distance shots. With the stock against his shoulder and one eye closed, the other eye keenly lining up the sight, his finger was about to pull the trigger when the gazelle suddenly leaped to one side and broke into a sprint.

It was definitely not because of us. Something else should’ve scared it away. Till that minute, I thought that there was only one hunter. But I was wrong. Something else was stalking the gazelle.

I slowly stood up adjusting my trilby with one hand and with the other a binocular. The Maharaja too leaned forward in excitement. It’s one of those rare occasions when you go for the hunt and your hunt is actually hunted by another hunter.

From behind the grasses the gazelle ran to its left and then leaped to its right; it was running in a serpentine course, towards us. Gazelles are good sprinters. They can run for long distances too without getting tired. From behind the gazelle emerged a spotted animal.

Its head was small, like that of a cat. No tiger or lion has that small a skull. It wasn’t a leopard either. Leopards are not so lean and don’t run so fast. It was long. Definitely longer than a tiger. There was a black streak from its eyes that stretched beyond its cheek. And there were black spots all over its golden coat. It was just mesmerizing.

The gazelle which was running in our direction suddenly maneuvered to its left and continued running, sparing us by a few hundred meters. It has very thin and pointed legs that allow it to run in any direction without lowering its momentum.

The spotted animal too quickly followed the trail without lowering its speed. The long tail perhaps was acting like a rudder steering the animal. The animal was almost a straight line when fully stretched in the galloping state, and its backbone was a perfect ‘U’ with its hind and forelimbs crisscrossed in the contractile state. I’d never seen a vertebrate with such an elastic spine. In two quick successive jumps the animal had crossed over twenty meters, in probably a quarter of a second.

And with one giant leap, it sprang into the air and reached for the flank of the gazelle. A swift blow with its paw was sufficient enough to bring down the gazelle. The gazelle shuddered to a halt. With another blow on its throat the gazelle that was writhing in pain then lay lifeless.

The cheetah impatiently walked around its prey and lay down for a while. It then reached for the throat, tearing it apart with its canines and then feasting on the flesh. It devoured a substantial portion of the gazelle in a very short time and then sauntered away. The grass cover was too good a camouflage that we lost him in no time.

“What is that animal?” the Maharaja was spellbound, and so was I.

“It’s called the cita, Sir!”

“Cita means a spotted body in Hindi,” the driver said.

I’d read about the cheetahs in books. I’d heard that the mogul emperor Akbar had hundreds of them domesticated and used them for hunting. But this was the first time I saw a cheetah, that too while it was hunting its prey.

The agility was unmatched. The precision was pin-pointed. There was no room for error. I’d seen tigers hunting deer, lions hunting antelopes but this was different. No lion hunts alone. No tiger can run so fast. No leopard hunts in the scorching sun. The cheetah is undoubtedly nature’s greatest hunter.

“I need him,” the Maharaja said looking at me.

“He would come again. I shall’ve him then,” the Maharaja said with a gleeful smile.

For over a week, we’d waited for the cheetah to return to the same place, without any success though. Cheetahs don’t move out of their comfort zone. But we have never seen the cheetah again.

The Maharaja had already killed a thousand royal Bengal tigers, a couple of Asiatic lions, mountain leopards and other big cats in the name of ‘shikar’, his favourite sport, but he could never lay his hands on the cheetah’s skin.

“Can I ever have the head and skin of the indomitable hunter?” the Maharaja felt that the trophies of the animals he had collected over years were of no value infront of the cheetah.

But his dream was soon to be fulfilled.

Almost a year later, on an fateful night, the Maharaja and I were driving through the countryside. The engine sound should have frightened the animals in the vicinity. The maharaja chanced upon three cheetahs a few metres away. The headlights of the Daimler we were travelling in, blinded them instantly and the Maharaja reached for his rifle. His aimed at the cheetahs, with a mind that was never weighed down by a humane conscience.

Thrice he pulled the trigger, the bullets swirled through the cold air and the innocuous beasts had fallen in quick succession.

Then we were not aware that the last surviving cheetahs in India were killed, and that we’d wiped the variegated beast off the Indian grasslands. The indomitable hunter will never look beyond those high rise grasses again.

The Indian cheetah was officially declared extinct in 1952, with the last of the cheetahs being killed by the Maharaja of Surguja in 1947.

The cat's paw

2009-08-14T08:29:00.001+05:30

‘Beyond the mountains at the horizon, it is said that a cat deliberately walks into the snare set by poachers to capture a bear or a tiger. And unable to bear the pain, it bites off its own paw and walks away three legged. The remnant paw is considered to be a lucky charm, but it still holds in it, the trials and tribulations of the cat when in captivity’

Human beings are need driven creatures, the need to live life, luxuriously. It can make them do anything, even if it means to make a deal with the devil. I was in dire need of money, the money I lost in poker, horse-races; I need to earn that back. Much beyond that I needed a factor called luck.

After emptying four pints of lager and some whiskey, I was well away at the party. And then I started to drive back home. The road down the hill was extremely dark. I was cruising along the treacherous serpentine course.

And suddenly the car started to shake as if it were going down a rough track. Before I could realize what happened and braked, I have driven off the road by a few kilometers. Still reeling between a state of consciousness and inebriated ecstasy, I opened the door and staggered along the gravelly path.

The clouds engulfed the moon. The cold wind cut through my skin and the surroundings chilled me to the marrow for there was no flora in the vicinity. All I could see was an old dead tree with the branches spread out from its trunk.

But what swept me off my feet was a body hanging from one of its branches. Somebody came this far to commit suicide? I better investigate, I thought as I ambled towards the tree.

The sounds of the creatures of the dark, the absence of any human soul dint deter me from going to the tree. I slowly walked to the person and examined him. The body was half rotten. I could see the folds on his exposed parts. The skin on his face was green in colour and it shrunk completely almost exposing his skull. One part of his body was crushed as if it were run over by some truck.

He presented a frightening look that would scare even the most seasoned horror buffs. Suddenly my eye caught the attention of a crumpled paper he was holding onto. Must be a suicidal note. I broke a twig from the branch and tried to free that paper from his grip. After a while, I was successful.

Folded in the paper was perhaps the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen. It looked like the paw of some animal. I immediately dropped it to the ground before I was reminded of a local legend, about the lucky charm of the cat’s paw. I unfolded the paper and had gooseflesh when I read the few words written on it.

“I would rather die a thousand times than living one more life”

I couldn’t understand a word, but I saw the pain cos of which he committed suicide. I slowly bent down to pick the cat’s paw from the ground when I heard the creaking of the branch behind me. I raised my head and what I saw almost stopped my heartbeat.

My blood ran cold for a while. The intoxication, all of a sudden, wore off completely.

He woke up. There were no eyes in the eye socket. He held the rope and started to shake, probably trying to get off the rope. And he was screaming in an unknown language. I took the cat’s paw in my hand and started to run towards my car, holding onto my dear life.

I tried to run as fast as my feet could carry me, before I tripped over something and fell down. I was hurt very badly after my ankle hit a stone. Lucky enough, it wasn’t paining though. Haven’t broken any bones. Still lying on the ground I turned around to see the thing that caused me to fall down.

It was a bag. I was a little circumspect about opening the bag, but fear is the last thing, a man would be worried about when he has problems, my problem being bankruptcy and desperation to get out of that situation.

I opened the zip and was aghast to see a huge amount of money, all in denominations of five hundred rupees. I valued the entire stash at more than a crore. My lucky day, I thought looking at the cat’s paw.

I made my way to the car and drove back. After reaching home, I ran a search for the cat’s paw. The legend was indeed true. “Let me see how my luck’s gonna change from tomorrow on,” I told myself.

I couldn’t get a wink of sleep. ‘So much money, let me win more in horse-race’, I told myself. I held the cat’s paw in one hand for I feared that I might lose it. I slowly slipped into sleep.

A few hours later, I was woken up by a purring sound. A cat? Gripping onto a vase, I slowly started to walk in the direction of the sound. A few feet ahead of me, I saw a huge Cat, with eyes red and claws drawn-out, standing on its hind legs and screaming in a callous voice ‘my paw, my paw’ to the man on the ground, the very same man whom I had seen hanging from the tree.

Then the man pointed his finger to me as the cat lifted its head and threw a furious look at me. With a sudden jerk, I woke up. A terrifying nightmare.

I held onto the paw. I was soft and cold. For a while, I felt frightened and then sorry for the animal, but nevertheless happy to have it for the luck factor, it brought along.

The following day, I travelled to the nearby town to invest in horse racing. As anticipated, I tripled, quadrupled my finances. It had been a wonderful day. I had all the money to pay debts, in fact I was be left behind with a decent amount. All cos of this lucky charm, I kissed the cat’s paw.

It was almost dusk and I had to travel back home before it gets dark.

I felt my leg too heavy when I looked down. The ankle was swollen as if it were sprained. But there was no pain, surprisingly. So I couldn’t drive my car faster, for the fear of hurting my ankle even more.

Within an hour, it was dark. The country road was almost deserted with no sign of any vehicle in the vicinity. It’s dangerous to travel with a lot of money, in these areas. And so I was a bit tensed.

I slowly stepped up the gas, before I heard a bursting sound. The car swerved like a snake before I maneuvered it to one side of the road. I got down from the car to see that I was running on a flat tyre.

Damn, I kicked the tyre, I don’t even have a spare tyre. The entire place was dark. There is every possibility of me being robbed and hence I decided to hide the money in some place.

I slowly walked into the nearby sparse vegetation and started to dig the loose sand with my hands. I then placed the bag into the pit and covered it up, before I felt someone watching me from behind.

I turned behind and saw a big cat growling, must be a panther. I looked into its eyes, they were same as the cat’s, I saw in my dream. I sprang to my feet and ran towards the car. The panther chased me.

I was almost nearing the road when I looked behind to see the panther. It was nowhere. I then turned to my front when I saw a beam of light and a loud honk. Something dashed me real hard and I fell to the ground. Before I could realize that I had been hit by a lorry, one of its rear tyres ran over me.

I was shell shocked when I realized that I was not under any kind of pain, and that I am alive too. I looked at the portion of the body over which the truck ran over. My left leg was completely crushed and I was bled profusely. I managed to crawl to the car when I heard the growl again.
The big cat appeared again and this time, he caught hold of my other leg with his jaws and dragged me into the woods, as I watched helplessly.

After dragging me for some distance, he stopped and walked over to my head. He slowly bent down sniffing all over my body and without alarm caught hold of my neck and plucked it brute force.

The blood splattered all over his face and he drank it with great relish. Surprisingly I had no pain at this juncture too, and I was able to watch all this happen to me.

The tiger left in some time, leaving behind a petrified me and a gaping wound on my neck. I touched my own body when a chill ran down my spine. There was no temperature. The body was totally cold. I tried to feel my pulse. There wasn’t any either.

All the things that happened since yesterday flashed through my mind. And then I realized. That I am not alive any more. But, why aint I dead either?

I slowly pulled a piece of paper and started to write something. After that I lifted a huge boulder and dropped it onto my own head. I could feel the crushing of the brain and the splatter. My hands were dead and lay motionless, but I could still feel and hear.

I don’t know for how long I lay in that position, hours, may be days, when I heard the footsteps of somebody walk towards me. Definitely a human, I thought. I could feel his hands run over my body. He seemed to be searching for something.

And then I realized that he pulled the cat’s paw outta my pocket as he read the paper, I wrote.

“I would rather die a thousand deaths than living one more life”

No, no… I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t. With all my strength I jerked my body, hoping that he wouldn’t get away with the cat’s paw.

But the man screamed in fright and all I could hear was the sound of fading footsteps …

Conscious

2009-07-03T07:13:00.001+05:30

There are certain things you don’t want to see.

The day was June 25th. After a tedious day at work, I walked back to my car. It’s around 11 ‘O clock. I longed to reach home. All I wanted was a good sleep to relieve me of the work pressure.

I slowly lay on the four-poster as my back ached under the day’s strenuousness. My eyelids were heavy and they slowly dropped dead. In the subconscious mind’s eye I was further able to see the necrosis of my senses.

Why is it different today? Have I stretched myself beyond the endurance levels? Why do I feel like a dead body? Why do...

Amidst these thoughts, the subconscious vision blurred and everything was blank and dark.

I didn’t know what time it was at night but I was back to my senses when I heard a flapping sound. A bird?

The room was dimly lit under the streaks of light from the street-lamp. The bed, actually a four-poster was close to the window and I lay half-asleep on it. My bones ached under the sleep induced laziness but my mind was conscious of the surroundings.

The blades of the fan cut through thin air making a swirling sound. Outside the window, the crickets were chirping and the leaves, rustling due to the wind. Where did I hear the flapping from? Must be from the tree outside the window.

I looked out of the window, still lying on the bed when I saw a silhouette spread its giant arms, at least 50 of them. No birds were perched on its arms. And since I was unable to learn the origin of the flapping sound, I tried to get back to sleep.

A few minutes later, I was disturbed by the sound of footsteps which subsequently became more clear, indicating that somebody was walking towards my room.

I concentrated, to make sure that I wasn’t hallucinating. There are two doors in the line of sight which needs to be crossed to reach my bedroom and I constantly stared at them. My heartbeat increased and I started to breathe heavily. I was waiting impatiently for that person to turn up at first door whence I could plan an evasive action.

The drapes at the first door were slightly pushed aside and I knew that the person had reached. I tried to push my body off the bed but it refused to move. It took me a while to understand that I was seized by a bout of paralysis. My whole body was numb, though I was conscious.

All I could do was to wait and watch. As I kept staring at the door, a white figure emerged from behind the drapes and walked towards me with calculated tread. She had long hair which fell over her face and so I couldn’t see her.

The air became colder as she approached me. I trembled under fright. And I had no other option but to watch. She came close to the four-poster and pulled back her hair.

My eyes enlarged under fright on seeing her face. Her face resembled mine but was chillingly frightening. It was pale and her lips were white devoid of any blood. She was very lean and had a scar, an open wound running across her forehead. Blood trickled down her eye as she slowly bent down.

But what terrified me even more was her voice. She was screaming in an unknown language. And the scream slowly converted into a growl. The only thing I could understand was that she’s in excruciating pain and that she was trying to convey something to me.

She lifted her head and looked at the frame of the four-poster.

And what I saw scared me to death. A huge raven perched on one it, flapping its wings continuously. Its eyes were burning like red ambers.

Even before I could raise an alarm, the bird swooshed down to my side and without any warning pecked my eye with its sharp beak. I was screaming at the top of my voice. Neither could I nor anybody else hear my screams.

I slithered in pain as she spread her arms like wings and continued to laugh. The bird was looking at me with its blood dripping beak. It slowly spread its wings and in a single flap made its way to the top.

I turned to my side and she was gone too. I wondered if all this happened for real but for the pain that was inexplicable. I could feel the blood trickling down my eye ball and wet the bed beneath me. Fear was conquered by pain.

I still lay helpless waiting for someone to help. But to no avail. And then my worst fears came true when I looked above me. She was floating in thin air, above me. She slowly came closer to me. ‘I will do whatever you say. I will help you,’ I meekly submitted.

And she started to laugh hysterically and gave out a loud cry before rushing into my body and merging with me. My body jerked violently before I felt a stinging pain in my arm.

I heard more voices as I tried to see what’s going on around.

A few days later I was discharged from the hospital. On the ill-fated day of June 25th, I crashed into an oncoming vehicle, as I was trying to overtake another vehicle ahead of me, causing a severe spinal atrophy. The debris damaged my eye which was operated upon the same night. Doctors said that I miraculously survived the crash. Even more miraculous was the fact that my pulse dropped to zero and when they thought I wouldn’t survive after their attempts turned futile, I suddenly started vibrating and the pulse regained to its normalcy.

I understand that it was my subconscious mind that was still awake while I was being operated upon in the hospital. And the disconnect between the conscious and subconscious minds deluded me to see the horrors that night.

But there is one thing that matters me even to this day whenever I stand infront of the mirror and see the scar on my forehead. The duty doctor who attended to my treatment when I was rushed from the accident site, maintains that I never had a wound or a scar on my forehead.

Clockwork

2009-07-03T07:09:00.001+05:30

So true and disturbing are the incidents written here that I’ve stopped making and collecting clocks, the only thing I’ve always wanted to and loved the most.

‘Tick tock.. tick tock..’ and my heartbeat would sync with it. For more than twenty years, I’d lived with clocks. I called myself a clock mason, one who pioneers in the extraordinary art of designing these intricate pieces of time.

My fascination with clocks began at an early age when I repaired them at a local shop. My job was to repair, finish and polish. I used to repair ten clocks a week, a far better standard in those days. Slowly, what started as a routine job became a hobby and then, a passion and an obsession.

Nothing else captures the exuberance as you run your fingers through your favourite piece of creation which is far more profound than anything.

All my life, I’d collected clocks of various shapes and types. There were hundreds of them including the rare Simon Willard banjo clock, a kit-kat clock, a tête de poupée, and an 1890’s grandfather clock. My daily work was to wind them up and sit listening to the overlapping ticking sounds and occasional dongs which were euphonically better than a Beethoven’s quartet.

And then there was Helen, my beautiful Helen, in my life. We’ve been married for two years. She had a special dislike for the one thing I loved the most, clocks, the reason, she thought I neglected her and spent most time with my clocks.

I too tried my part to keep away from them. But few things are as immutable as my addiction to something as low as a ticking of a clock. Helen gradually started to hate me.

I loved her. I tried to explain my passion for the clocks. She refused to listen.

On the fateful day, I was repairing an old torsion clock. Helen was as usual complaining. Her nagging seemed to have crossed the limits, that day. She walked into the room housing my clocks, with a sledge hammer.

And raised her voice, ‘I don’t want to lead a life of neglect’. A grim silence ensued but...

But the harmonious ticking sounds dissolved it. In the midst of which I saw her grip the hammer and without any warning she started to smash them one by one. She couldn’t contain her anger anymore.

It took me a while to react. With every blow landing on a clock, I felt like my life draining out of me. I pleaded with her. I persuaded her. She wouldn’t heed. As she was about to smash the rarest of ‘em all, the Willard banjo, I pushed her aside in the nick to time, hence saving the clock.

She hit the wall and lay motionless. The posterior of her skull forced its way through a nail protruding out of the wall, splattering blood all over. I looked at her in utter distraught as she breath her last.

I was terribly shaken at the turn of these events. My wife was very precious to me just like the clocks were. I wish she understood my passion for clocks, in which case an accident like this would‘ve been averted, I lamented over the loss of my wife. But the next thing that occurred to me was that I would be charged with her murder and subsequently jailed.

I have to evade punishment. I couldn’t move the dead body out of my apartment. It may raise many a curious eye-brows. There had to be a way. Yes, there is a way.

I slowly dragged her body to the sink and lifted her onto the perforated table. I reached for a cleaver and started to chop her body. My intent was to transport the body out of my building by placing the chopped parts into the clocks.

The Grandfather’s clock was long enough to accommodate her legs. The kit-kat clock could accommodate her hands and so on. And now that the entire job is done, I dint have the heart to dump away her body parts through these clocks.

And I decided to keep the clocks with me till my last breath, for they hid in them a terrible secret. One day, I will be gone too. Even then I wanted people to take care of my clocks, more particularly the ones that contained her remains. I wrote a similar note and placed it in each of those clocks.

‘An earnest appeal to who-so-ever owns these clocks, please handle the clocks with care for they carry my heart...’

And I finished reading the manuscript. Nisha was in a state of shock and it took her a few minutes to recover from that shock. After that she never entered my clocks room, where I’ve collected all the clocks over the years as a part of my hobby. She never questioned my commitment towards her and my spending lots of time on clocks too. I commentated on the manuscript to Aakash who had gooseflesh after hearing my narration.

“So you scared her out of her wits by revealing about the clock? So you have his original clock that contains his wife, Helen’s remains,” he was curious.

I smiled and shook my head, “no.”

“Just to keep Nisha at bay.”

“What about the manuscript, she never bothered to look at it?”

“A scared woman won’t see the difference between an old looking manuscript and a blank crumpled paper,” I finished.

55 word Twisters

2009-01-21T07:41:00.002+05:30

The suicide

I woke up from my bed only to find her hanging to the ceiling. ‘My wife was killed by some one’ I couldn’t even digest the fact. The police were at the place in a few minutes. Just below her body was mine with a knife stabbed in my heart and her fingerprints on it.

The peeping tom

Natasha wrapped a towel around her naked body and walked slowly into the bathroom. Mike frantically peeped through the keyhole in the bathroom door. The entire bathroom appeared dark. Mike pushed a divider to clear the dirt from the keyhole when he heard a shout. Natasha comes out of the door with her eye, bleeding.

The headache

I was having a splitting headache. I gulped a tablet. I applied a balm. No avail. And finally I removed a hammer and started banging it onto the head. First time and the pain reduced. Second time and it reduced even further. And third time. All my three roommates lie in a pool of blood.

Wrong number

“Hello,” a sweet voice called me up on my mobile. “Is this Rakesh?” she asked. “No ma’am, wrong number, but you can still talk to me,” I said as I was bored at my workplace. “Come home in the evening and the pan will do the talking,” the voice said and she cut the call.

Why should boys have all the fun

“Shhh.. Don’t shout. We’ll start to Goa tomorrow. Nobody’s gonna tell the guys,” the girls were contemplating in the next room. Having overheard the conversation, I said “Destination Goa.” We were off to Goa. Two days later, we don’t find the girls in Goa.
“Guys, where have you all been? We are enjoying at home”

My monkey wife

“I woke up today morning when I looked at the window. I then saw this monkey so huge and fair and dressed up well, imitate me.” I was trying to make fun of my wife, who normally imitates me, by calling her a monkey.

“You call this window?” my wife asked pointing to a mirror.

The Split

I slowly placed my head on the wooden platform and she slowly raised the axe. I closed my eyes in fear and she gripped the handle firmly in her hands. I said my last prayers and ‘thud’ fell the axe onto the wood splitting it apart. She was in Tokyo and I was in California.

My first love

The first time I saw her, she was shaking her body in the aerobics class. I almost drooled over her beauty. She looked at me and smiled. The world beneath me vanished and the sky appeared to be coming closer towards me. I opened my arms wide open and said, “Illeana darling, I love you”

The portrait trilogy

At the museum, we reached a dark place. Three portraits were hanging. In the first, a bloody ghoul was feeding on a woman. In the second, a demon ripped apart itself and in the third there was a female, still and calm. “Damn, She moved” I shouted. “Stupid fool, that’s a mirror,” my wife remarked.

The hitchhiker

A beautiful girl on the highway was flashing two fingers. I crossed her and looked at her, through the rear view mirror. She was gone. Next moment she was behind me in my car. I swerved left and hit a tree. Later, a truck driver came that way and saw the girl showing three fingers.

The race

I was driving home when a car vroomed past me. I started to race with that Civic. Swerving to the left and cutting across the lane, I was about to overtake it when I showed my finger and then vanished from sight. Later that night, my dad asked me the meaning of showing the finger.

The heart of a serial killer

2009-01-13T20:35:00.002+05:30

More than 0.2 % of the patients undergoing major surgeries suffer from ‘anesthetic awareness’ when they are being operated. Anesthetic awareness is a condition in which the patient is aware of the being operated upon even when he’s under the effect of anesthesia.

‘Reeves, kill me, else I am not gonna let you live…’ I heard Sam say and I immediately fired in the direction of the voice.

Boom.. boom.. two shots were fired as we both fell to the ground. I was a detective trying to solve the murders at San Andreas where seven innocent girls have fallen to the gun of a rampant serial killer.

Going by a tipoff from a local man, I zeroed in on to this serial killer. And an exchange of gunfire ensued afterwards until both of us were hit and fallen to the ground.

A few minutes later the police were at the crime scene and they rushed both of us to the hospital. I was lying partly conscious and I was able to hear their discussions when I blanked out before knowing that Sam was already dead.

And when I regained consciousness, I was lying on the operation table with some one in a green dress and wearing a mask make an incision on my chest with a scalpel and slowly cutting my ribs after cleaning the blood and slowly they started to bypass the veins and arteries before cutting them off transplanting another heart. All this went on for a few hours but I was awake all the time still reeling under the pain of being operated upon.

But the greatest shock of my life was when I overheard the doctor telling his counterpart, ‘Sam shot the detective through his chest, when the pericardium is ruptured making him difficult to survive on his own heart. And Sam breath his last but the detective is lucky enough that he found his donor in the form of Sam, whose heart we have transplanted to him. This will be a secret according to the rules of our hospital, as we don’t divulge the names of the donors’ when I blanked out once again.

And when I woke up again I was in an ICU with lots of instrument panels around me. I shouted, ‘Doctor… doctor…’ when somebody rushed to me, injecting a needle when I lay asleep once again.

Within a few weeks I was discharged from the hospital and the physical pain slowly subdued but the mental pain of carrying the heart of the serial killer Sam, was something very hard for me to bear with. The pain traumatized me for a very long time. Other than the two doctors who transplanted the heart to me, and me myself, no one else knew that I was surviving on Sam’s heart.

Not very soon after my discharge from the hospital, the killings with the same pattern started once again. Newspapers read, ‘Sam the serial killer haunts even after his death…’ and so on. I couldn’t resume my duties because of post operation complications and hence my knowledge was limited to the newspapers and news channels.

One day I came to know that the doctors who operated upon me were killed in the same pattern. Half the time I never had any idea of what I was doing. Now serious thoughts crossed my mind.

‘Did the devil possess me cos’ I am transplanted with his heart? Or some one else knows this and is trying to lure me into these crimes? Or is it a copy cat serial killer or an inspired one on loose…’

And I decided not to be confined to the four walls of my room again. I need to check out what is happening.

As I slammed the door behind me, my mobile rang and I picked the call. ‘It’s too dangerous for you detective to walk behind me, on my trail. You were saved once, but I assure you, this won’t happen again…’ and the person on the opposite side hung-up. I recognized that voice, it’s that of Sam.

And my heart, actually his heart inside me started to pound. It seemed like it wanna get back to its owner. And my head started to reel under this. And I opened the door once again and went back to sleep once again. After a few minutes I was awakened by the sirens of police cars plying down my street when I rushed to the outdoors and asked a by-passer.

‘We have one more victim to Sam…’, he said. And I was shocked. ‘How can that be possible, his heart has been transplanted to me, how can he live…’ and I decided to investigate his death. I reached for the keys and started to drive towards the graveyard where he was buried.

I called another detective friend of mine who also made his way to the graveyard. He along with a few other personnel reached the place and they had already started digging the grave and inside it was a skeleton. ‘Collect few bone samples and send them for DNA test’, my friend ordered and he put his hand around my shoulder even as we started to walk across when I divulged to him that I am carrying Sam’s heart.

He was in disbelief for a moment and then said, ‘So, you think that it’s you who’s killing people under the influence of his heart which has taken over you…’ and started laughing out loud.

‘Please don’t make fun of this serious issue…. And I believe this is happening’ I said and continued, ‘anyways, lets await the DNA results’ and I walked away from the place. The same night I installed a camera to capture what’s happening around me when I am asleep.

The next morning I checked the newspaper and there was one more kill. And I immediately rushed to the camera and pulled out the tapes to play it on the VCR. It was around 1:00 PM in the night when I woke up and yet I don’t remember anything. It seemed that I was under the puissance of a foreign force and I opened the door and walked out of it.

Even when I stood wondering, my mobile rang when my detective friend called me out and said, ‘Reeves, Eye witnesses and circumstantial evidence suggest that you were at the place of all these killings ….’ And even before he could finish I hung up.

The next day police were at my house only to find me already hung myself. My friend was at the place sobbing and continued, ‘...Eye witnesses and circumstantial evidence suggest that you were at the place of all these killings… but they were killed even before that by serial killer Sam, who’s not dead yet. The DNA of the bones proved to be of some one else and the heart transplanted to you belonged to a different Sam’

Few hundred miles away from the place, Sam was watching the news of my death on TV and grinned. ‘I have already warned you Reeves, you kill me, else I will kill you, and you fell for my cheap trap’ and he opened the bottle emptying the wine into a glass and saying, ‘In the loving memory of my friend Reeves’ and closed his eyes for a moment as if he was mourning. And the minute he opened his eyes, I was sitting infront of him with my gun pointed towards him.

‘You aren’t dead yet…’ and I burst into laughter. ‘You played the dirty trick, and now it’s payback time…’ I said and boom there was a sound.

The relic

2008-11-26T22:02:00.001+05:30

When the hounds bay for blood, when the vampire bats squawk for life, when clouds engulf the crescent and when the stars align in an inverted pentagram, the creature of the dark will rise to life - the relic.

Recently we moved into a new house. And that’s when we brought home our new pup, Mike. The retriever pup was so active and friskily naughty. As days passed by, I found a gradual decline in its activity. ‘Growing pups are normally very active,’ a friend of mine suggested me to consult a vet.

“Nothing’s wrong with Mike, atleast physically. Don’t leave it alone all the time,” was the vet’s suggestion.

Plagued by the thoughts that the pup’s unwell, I couldn’t sleep a wink the following night. I was tossing and turning on the bed. Suddenly the lights blanked out. A thunderous lightening made me worry about Mike.

In the dark milieu, I managed to reach the window. It was raining heavily outside. I tried to look out for my pup. It wasn’t in its kennel. I was worried. I looked around and was about to go outdoors when something caught my eye.

In a lightning jolt, I saw a kinda projection out of the lawn infront of my house. In another jolt, I saw my pup trying to pull that thing. Perhaps a pipe or a piece of wood, I thought as I focused the torch and tried to get a better look. What I saw frightened me beyond all means.

It looked like a bone. Yes, it’s a human hand with the palm wide open. Of a recently buried corpse?

And I rushed to the outdoors; I wanted to confirm the same before I disturb my parents. My hands were trembling as I pulled down the latch and opened the door. I wasn’t worried about me being drenched. My primary concern was the human hand, the image that I couldn’t take off my mind.

“Mike… Mike…” I hollered when the pup looked in my direction. In a flash of lightning I saw its sharp canines dripping some slimy liquid. I wasn’t very sure if it was blood but before I could reach to any conclusion, I heard a growl which sent a chill down my spine. In the next instant, I saw it jump towards me at a gallop.

Shell shocked at the unexpected outcome of these events, I stood still when my pup whimpered as it dropped something at my feet. The bone? No, a book. The book’s soaked completely, it looked a little old with a tattered hard bound leather cover.

Having my dog leashed, I walked back to my bedroom and opened the book when I found a letter. Under the dim light from the torch, I unfolded the letter and started to read.

‘Centuries ago, a diabolic ghoul robbed the graves and ate the corpses of human beings. A priest cast a spell on the ghoul thus making it lifeless and the ghoul’s laid to rest once and for ever. Legend talks of a relic containing the spell that binds the ghoul.

In the early years of this millennium, on his quest for fossils, Paleontologist Mark Heines finds the so called relic with a hand clutching onto it. The hand was in such a preserved condition that Mark basing on the hairs spoke of the race of the human to which it belonged.

Nobody knows what happened to the hand, but a few years later, Heines was found dead, hanging to the ceiling, and with one of his hand, amputated. His severed hand was never recovered though.

Many are of the opinion that the ghoul’s back with a vengeance and it kills the one in possession of the relic. And the hand of whom will guard the relic forever. This is a vicious cycle’

I folded the letter and then started to read the relic. True, I dint believe in ghosts. They are just a figment of human imagination. As I flipped page after page much to the discontentment of my palpitating heart, I began to see visions. Visions of a goat inside an inverted pentagram called sigil of Baphomet, a ring of fire that almost engulfed me when I pushed aside the relic in fright, pushing myself to another corner of the room.

I buried my face into my knees seeing some impending horror when I looked out of the window. It was still raining incessantly. And in one strike of a thunderbolt, I saw the entire milieu, the sky and the clouds turning blood red.

Dogs were howling at a far off place. I approached the window and looked out. I saw a few bats cluttering at the place where my pup dug out the relic.

When hounds bay for blood, when the vampire bats squawk for life, when clouds engulf the crescent and when the stars align in an inverted pentagram, the creature of the dark will rise to life - I remembered a line from the relic.

And I felt a sudden drop in the temperature. A cold wave sent a chill down my spine. Sometimes, you have this feeling that someone’s watching you over. And tonight, I felt it. It’s more than just a normal human being.

I can feel the malice, the coldness of this diabolic being. In a wink, I was lying on my bed. The chill that cuts through your skin, the icy state when you are frozen and paralyzed when you know you are not alone, that’s the most frightening part.

For a while, I wasn’t able to fathom what’s happening. When something flowing touched my body, I regained my senses. It was warm and all over the bed.

I touched it with my hand. ‘Damn, its blood,’ I screamed and tried to push myself away from the bed. A stinging pain in the left part of my body prevented me from doing so. I looked beyond my shoulder and to my dismay found my hand amputated. I pressurized my palm on the open wound to arrest the flow of blood.

And I looked around. In the dim light, far in the corner lay the severed portion of my hand on the relic.... My hand now becomes the guardian of the relic? and I cried loudly in pain before I lost consciousness.

I don’t know for how long I lay in that position. But the next morning I woke up trembling. I looked around for the relic.

It was lying on my bed with my hand still on it. But my hand wasn’t severed. Was it my imagination? I saw things so close to reality... And I pulled the relic close to my body.

It indeed had the bite marks, probably inflicted by my pup when it was digging it up y’ night. And I saw the face of the relic. This was more frightening than all the things that happened over the course of the night. It read, ‘Domain level certification’.......

Psychoanalysis

2008-11-21T07:47:00.000+05:30

The entire room was dark except for a cone of white light that illuminated a reclining chair beneath it, on which I was seated. The door creaked open. And a woman in her late twenties walked into the room clutching a notepad to her chest. She was wearing a straight formal skirt and a white shirt jacketed by a black tuxedo cinching her waist.

She came close to me and pulled a chair. Then she opened a document and started writing something. Where did I see her before?

I was playing with the long curls over my forehead and entwining them over my finger. “Can I know what you are writing?” I asked in a rather feminine tone whiffing the curls off my forehead. She pushed the papers to me. It read, “Session 6 - Marcus Solly : psychoanalysis by Dr. Lewine”

Yes, that’s me. Marcus Solly. A graduate from the Stanford school of business, a successful entrepreneur and a happily married man. You couldn’t ask for anything better. But there’s this devious twist to my life when my wife was found murdered in cold blood in my apartment and I was accused of killing her.

“My name is Dr. Lewine,” she said, “and I would be asking a few simple questions.”

I nodded. If it’s regarding my wife’s murder, I have nothing to say.

“Just relax Solly,” she said as the chair reposed at a higher obtuse angle and I reclined on it. “Free your mind Solly. We’ll not talk anything about your wife’s murder. Just tell me about your childhood. Tell me something that you’ve always wanted to confide in some one,” she spoke in a soothing tone.

And I started to speak. I dint know how well I was able to channelize but thoughts flowed and I subconsciously narrated to her my entire life.

“Do I know you prior?” I asked her. I’ve seen her somewhere. She smiled and nodded, “No.”

“So what happened on the night of murder,” she asked. I was least interested in talking about it but for her mesmerizing voice.

“Sasha was lying in a pool of blood by the time I reached home. She was pointing to someone in the kitchen. I ran behind him and I was able to get hold of the jacket he was wearing, but he managed to flee the scene. I ran back to Sasha and she was holding onto her stomach, crying in pain.

She was stabbed multiple times and was bleeding profusely. Seeing her in excruciating pain, I pulled the kitchen knife outta her abdomen and she bled to death even before I could call for an ambulance. In a matter of few minutes, the police invaded the place and they arrested me on homicidal charges,” I concluded as she keenly listened to my story.

She wrote something in her notes and she looked at me. “The knife had your fingerprint marks,” she said. “Of course there could be. The murderer must have donned gloves. In the frantic move to save my wife and free her from pain, I pulled the knife outta her body when my fingerprints must have been registered on the knife,” I said in an anguished tone as I plunged my face into my palms and started to weep bitterly.

“I am not going to leave that sick …” I hollered in anger.

“Relax,” she said, “So where’s the jacket you confiscated?” she asked, “You found anything in that?”

“Yes,” I said with bated breath, “A card which read his name!”

“The name, Allison!”

She smirked and stood up and started saying something that baffled me beyond all means.

“Don’t you remember Solly, that Allison is your middle name? Marcus Allison Solly, that’s you. You killed your wife. On the fateful day, you walked into your house wearing the said jacket. You were talking to your wife regarding something. And the talk converted in a squabble and later a big fight.

In a fit of rage you stabbed her multiple times with a kitchen knife lying by your side. Seeing your wife slithering in pain, you removed and threw away the jacket you were wearing and pulled out the knife from her body.

Allison, the other dissociative personality of yours fled the scene after killing your wife while Solly, the softer one came to the fore and tried to save her,” she ended.

“Your childhood events as narrated by you and these records prove that you’ve suffered from dissociative identity disorder more commonly known as split personality,” she appended as she pushed a bunch of papers towards me.

“There is something more than a twist to this tale. The court thinks that either you are extremely sick or you’re pretending. I have to prove to them that it’s your split personality that killed your wife. Not the normal you and hence we can have the charges framed against you, dropped,” she said as I stood in utter disbelief.

Her words echoed in my ears. My mind was filled with the clamor and chaos as I tried hard to understand Dr. Lewine’s words. When I heard a creaking sound again, I turned to the door and saw a woman and a man walk towards me. The woman was dressed in a tuxedo cinching her waist just like Dr. Lewine’s.

“This is Solly, your newest subject. He’s suffering from a split personality disorder. Right now, as we see his personality is split to Solly and Allison...” I overheard the man speak.

The woman walked towards me and pulled a chair.

“Hi Solly, this is Dr. Mary, dean, Institute of Psychological Disorders, North Hampton” she greeted. “I see that you are writing something?” she asked. I returned her a smile and pushed a scribbling pad which read, “Session 6 - Marcus Solly.... Psychoanalysis by Dr. Lewine”

“Solly, Allison and ....Lewine....” she turned back and replied to the man.

Witch-craft

2008-11-17T21:14:00.001+05:30

Prachi’s a big time beer aficionado. Though I never tasted it throughout my life, I’d known a lot about beer, thanks to her. The first time, I saw a highly delectable her at a friend’s party in the local bar. It was love at first sight. After the regular dilly dallying, she finally reciprocated my love.

With a few tufts of hair falling to the fore and captivating luscious features, she could even make a devil ogle her. She attributed her good looks and youthful features to beer. She strongly believes that drinking beer can actually make you look younger. I really don’t know if that’s true or some lame excuse to drink.

That particular night we were returning from B’lore to Hyderabad on NH7.

“Enough, you drank enough,” I screamed at her as I tried to snatch the bottle.

‘No dear, it’s just my second bottle,’ she mumbled as she clenched the long necked bottle like a kid clutching to her Barbie doll and gave me that inebriated look with a wide lipped smile and blinking eyelids.

And that’s when I try to distract her by narrating a horror story. Anything related to horror spooks her. I remember her watching “The Exorcist” when she screamed like hell for all those scenes of demonic possession and including the spider-walk of Regan.

‘No, please,” I heard her speak faintly.

“Not so far from Hyderabad,” I started narrating. “There’s this place called Shankerpally. It’s a hamlet, a normal village except for one house. The house was circum-fenced by thorny shrubs and other outgrowth, the most remarkable feature being the stone statues that stood behind the house. They looked like the grandeur of perfect human art. Yet nobody in the village was qualified to chisel with such intricate magnanimity. And nobody knew who brought them there.

But everybody opined that it must be the work of the stone-witch as the kids called the woman who lived in the hut. For ages, she lived in the same old hut and anybody who pays her a visit and stays over night is bound to become a statue, according to the local folklore,” I finished as she trembled under fright.

“Wwwa… wid… stone statues?” she stuttered.

“The witch in order to keep herself young snatched the souls of the trespassers and converted the soulless bodies to stones.”

“Your voice cut through my skin like ice and I can still feel the chill running down my spine,” her teeth chattered and she opened the bottle and gulped down some beer.

I had to take an alternate route through a relatively uninhabited zone to cut short on the time of journey. The entire stretch of the road was dark as the moon slipped slowly behind the prevailing clouds. The trees on the either side swayed perilously close to each other under the heavy gust of wind.

She was silent for a long time, and so were I, staring at the seemingly never ending road and still clutching onto the bottle.

And as if the devil had the last laugh on Prachi, the car came to a screeching halt. “Damn,” I said, as she peeped out of the window, “We have a flat tyre, in fact tyres”

As we stepped down and looked around, we found ourselves stuck in the middle of nowhere. I pointed to a flickering lamp at some distance and said, “Let’s move to that hut. It’s dangerous to stay in the open dark. Wild animals could be lurking around.”

Trampling over the high rise grass and stepping stones, we reached what seemed like a small hut. “Excuse me,” I spoke in the local dialect when a middle aged woman opened the door. I explained the situation and she welcomed us in.

She was a queer looking woman. She stooped a little cos’ of a hunch that’s too early for her age. But there was a charm in her face. Prachi stood at a distance and was suspiciously staring at our host. I crossed her looks and gestured not to embarrass the woman.

An unprecedented breakdown enforced no feasible option other than an overnight stay. Our host spread the bed as we prepared to rest for the night after a good square meal.

Prachi clasped my hand tightly. “Your description of the stone-witch fits her,” she exclaimed. I dint reply. Lost in those words, I slipped into a deep slumber. Not for long when an owl’s hoot brought me back to my senses. I looked to the side and saw Prachi in deep sleep. I heard a flapping sound, perhaps from the owl’s wings, followed by a gentle rustle of leaves when I walked to the window.

Through the opening, I saw our hunched host holding onto a lantern and walk across in a hurry. Where to?

I slowly stepped out of the house and started to follow, hiding from her view by crouching behind the high rise grasses. After following her for a few minutes, I realized that I was surrounded by stone statues double my height.

Too many thoughts crisscrossed my mind. After all, the story I narrated to Prachi was indeed a figment of my imagination. There was no stone-witch in reality. The stone statues were in a particular pattern, lined up, a few feet from the hut, imposing a hauntingly leering look that scared me beyond all reasons.

The wind was cold and I felt like my blood freeze in the veins. She never cared to look back.

I followed her for a hundred feet, atleast, before I saw her walk into a graveyard.

She sat cross legged infront of a grave. I couldn’t see what she was doing for I was behind her.

My heart was palpitating, say out of fright or excitement to know what she’s up to. Then she moved her hand aside and seemed to slash her wrist with a knife. Blood started to ooze from her slit wrist and she seemed to wet something on the ground with her blood.

What’s she up to? Some ritual? Or reviving the dead? Or...

As I watched with wide opened eyes, she suddenly started vibrating. All this was too much for me and I wanted to flee the place. But my legs couldn’t carry me anymore. I felt so lifeless as if a knife’s pierced through my spinal cord and my fingers were numb. That’s when I realized that I had been seized by a bout of paralysis.

She was shaking violently a few feet ahead of me and suddenly she turned back. In the faint glow of the burning ambers, I saw blood spurting from her eyes. Her facial skin blistered and she fell to the ground, painfully hollering.

I almost fell to the ground but with a conscious effort to save myself from some evil that has taken her down, I crawled drawing all the power to my hands. And...

Prachi, she’s all alone in the hut, my thoughts raced in that direction.

In the foggy darkness, I could faintly see a silhouette approaching me. The witch, I thought. No, it’s Prachi. She must have come searching for me. I could hardly speak and I was trying to grab her when she came close to me. She helped me stand on my feet as I tried to narrate the incident and we fled the place.

I was terribly shaken and so was she as we walked back to the car. The clouds cleared and the moon was back to the fore. The nightmare’s over, I heaved a sigh of relief, when something strange caught my eye.

“Even in this state of fear, you still clung to this bottle?” I stared at her with bloodshot eyes. The bottle was empty though and corked.

“Of course, I had to look young for my boy friend!” she replied.

The mind of a psychopath

2008-09-25T07:30:00.002+05:30

I slowly opened the door of my car and stood before the huge building which read ‘The San Jose Asylum’ and I started to walk towards the facility. As a curator of the facility I made it a habit to visit each and every patient in the asylum every day.

This is the biggest asylum in this part of the world where people are treated for various mental disorders. I have spent more time of mine with these insane people than anything else in my entire life over a period of 29 years. And that compelled me to author few books called ‘The lines of sanity’ and ‘Living with the sane in an insane world’

Our patients are kept in huge cylindrical glass chambers where they are constantly monitored and treated. And hence our medical facility stands out of the crowd for these state of the art equipment and the ways which we adopt to treat our patients.

A renowned psychologist and the curator of this asylum and also the author of these books have earned me respect from various quarters of the world.

A cool wind blew away the dried leaves infront of the facility and even as I approached the door, I suddenly felt a chill run down my spine. As I turned back, I saw a young woman probably in her twenties approach the asylum.

She introduced herself as Jemina Stevens. She said that she was a journalist and that she was writing a book called ‘The mind of a psychopath’ and hence she wanted to interview a few of the patients.

“No miss, this is a prohibited area. And more over the patients cannot be exposed to strangers which may cost you as well as them,” I said.

“Please sir, I have been a fan of yours. Particularly the way in which you described how people are insane while thinking themselves to be sane is really outstanding. I am doing this thesis work for my criminology project,” she pleaded.

I looked at her from tip to toe. She had great curves with a pleasant face. The face of a perfect beautiful woman to whom you can’t deny anything. But as per my book ‘The lines of sanity’ goes, beauty is only skin deep and more beautiful people are cleverly insane.

I felt even more apprehensive because of the chill factor whenever I stood close to her. A negative force always makes its presence indicated by a drop in the temperature of the surroundings. Nevertheless her beauty masked my fears and I allowed her inside the asylum.

“The world now is a dangerous place. There is a thin line that divides sanity from insanity. The brain is a very sensitive organ in the human body. It can bear or receive adverse shocks up to a certain stage. It is an individual characteristic as to what that limit can be.”

“But once that limit is crossed a person will still look sane from outside. But what happens inside his mind, nobody knows. And ultimately he may turn out to be a psycho. But he’s still normal outside. This is what is called The mask of sanity.”

“Look at this man,” I showed Jemina, “Look at his face. It’s so still and so calm. Yet you would be surprised to know that he’s killed more than 20 people. This is what is called the mask of sanity,” I said. She looked closely at the glass chamber and tapped on the glass.

“No ma’am, since the day he’s come to this asylum, he has never spoken a word, either with me or with his investigators,” I said.

And then we proceeded to the next patient. “This man has murdered his wife and children in cold blood. He always complained that he under the puissance of a negative force perpetrated to the bloodshed. And one day he started to vibrate under psychic trance. Initially he said that the negative force inside him was trying to kill him. And a few hours later he blanked out. But his brain is still caught in the same psychic trance that at one point of time or the other he starts vibrating again. Very interesting case.”

“This is a classic case of possession. The patient believes that he’s possessed and belief makes him do all this,” I continued.

And then I lead her to most of the chambers. She interviewed few of them. A few of them who have significantly showed some medical improvement spoke to her.

“Thank you so much sir, I will now be able to complete my thesis,” she said and left the place.

I too was tired and left for the day. The next morning I was back at the asylum when I found some of the glass chambers were broken and few of the insane have escaped when I called 911 and complained.

“I guess its Jemina who’s freed them all. As she was the first person whom I led to the interiors of the asylum. Normally no one else has the access to these interiors,” I testified before the judge.

The judge was looking at me. “Have you suffered from any psychological disorder?” he asked. “Yeah, I was treated for Obsessive Compulsion Disorder,” I nodded.

“And this is the girl, Jemina?” the judge pointed his finger and I looked in that direction. “Yes, she’s the one,” I shouted.

“In what seems to be one of the most bizarre cases I have ever seen in my life, Dr. Wary Jones, the man who testified here infront of me is suffering with some major psychological disorder,” there was a pause of a while.

I looked at him, completely confused. Is he insane? Why is he trying to convict me?

The San Jose county sheriff will now narrate the exact incidents that happened when a man wearing a hat walked forward and spoke.

“The police have raided the area where the San Jose Asylum is located. In fact there is no such institution in that area. We could only find the residence of Dr. Wary Jones with a placard displayed with ‘San Jose Asylum’…” and he paused for a while.

“We broke into the house and were more than surprised to see huge glass chambers as indicated by the doctor. But… but the glass chambers aren’t any state of the art treatment facilities but huge vats containing vinegar used to preserve the dead bodies that were lying in those vats,” and he looked at me.

“We have ultimately caught one of the most prolific serial killers in the history of US of A who for over a period of 29 years has kidnapped his victims and preserved all of them in the vats in the cellar of his house which he called himself, San Jose Asylum. This girl Jemina is his last victim.”

“The previous night, Jemina was walking along the street when the doctor kidnaps her and eventually leads her into his death trap. In this affray to save her life, Jemina broke two glass cylinders from which the bodies came out and the doctor still under his mental state thought that Jemina helped some of them to escape called the police and helped us catch him,” the sheriff concluded.

And he handed over two books to the judge and said, “these diaries named ‘The lines of sanity’ and ‘Living with the sane in an insane world’ would give a complete account of how he killed people.”

“No, this can’t be true, you people are insane,” I shouted my heart out. But none of them heeded to me.

“The doctor will be treated for his medical condition and the judgement will be pronounced after further notice from the curator of the treatment facility,” the judge said.

The next morning I was lead to the medical facility. The door opened and I slowly got down from the car. And I looked around. The place seemed familiar. The huge words read, “San Jose Asylum” struck my eyes like a lightning. And I shivered under fright.

They slowly lead me into the asylum and I saw the huge cylindrical glass chambers before me.

Even before I could understand what was happening, “Please, don’t let me into those chambers. I am not insane. Please…..”

The next day newspapers read, Dr. Wary Jones escaped from trial the previous night. And the judge as well the sheriff too went missing. The police stormed the house of Wary Jones and found the dead bodies of the judge and the sheriff in the cylindrical glass vats still preserved in vinegar. And Wary Jones is reportedly missing. The police however recovered a diary with the name ‘The mind of a psychopath’

The unsung themes

2008-09-21T13:47:00.001+05:30

I know how many times I haven’t slept properly cos of the issues that invaded my dreams.

Neglected my health, harried it and never applied a leave, whatever be the means!

There is nothing called a personal life, when I dedicated my life to Her (personifying work), the dame that absorbed me into her reams.

Alas, where did I lose that beautiful life of mine that once beckoned me with all its gleams?

That looked so promising with all its insincere and deceitful deems.

Those days when I even had the efficacy and moxie to swim against life’s biased streams.

But now, I am torn between my passions-many (work @ workplace, indeed is one of my greatest passions) burdened alongst my shoulder beams.

All the tumult and chaos which fill my mind and body will erupt into maddening screams.

Frightened of so many things, if this were to continue, I will have to resign soon before I kill (not literal) myself, ripping apart my skin’s seams.

Damn thy soul for there art no soul, I walk along soulless amidst Life sans We, that teems.

And hark, these are life’s unsung themes...

The mirror

2008-09-21T13:41:00.001+05:30

Sunday night. And it was raining cats and dogs, here in Hyderabad. I and Atul were returning from ‘The Dark Knight’ movie. The torrential downpour almost reduced our visibility to a few metres on the road.

Atul was driving the car. “Damn it, just glow slow. The car will skid,” I kept warning him.

“Do you think any soul would be walking down the roads in this rain,” he turned towards me. The wipers were sliding along the windshield as the droplets of rain lashed it.

Suddenly I saw someone clad in a white dress obstruct our way. “Atul…watch out,” I shouted. And he rammed into ‘it’. There was a loud bumping sound before he applied the brakes and the car skid for a few meters, coming to a screeching halt.

Both of us were terribly shaken. “Let’s get out of here,” Atul said.

“What about that someone on the road, he or she must have been seriously injured,” I objected. “We’ll call 1098, and inform them. I don’t wanna involve myself in a hit and run case,” his voice quivered.

The next day, I rummaged through all the newspapers for reports on yesterday’s accident.

‘… a woman clad in a white dress, was run over by a car. The woman later succumbed to injuries in a local hospital. Nobody came forward to claim her body yet…’

I was telling him; drive slow, drive slow…

I decided to pay a visit to the hospital. “You’ve gone crazy, you will spill the beans, infront of the police,” Atul was furious. “I will pay my last rites. Atleast we can do this much for her,” I said and hung up the call.

Another friend of ours, Aniket worked in the same hospital. He took me to the mortuary where her body was preserved.

“Last evening, I was the duty doctor, when they brought her in. She had a fractured shin bone and I thought she would recover soon. Later that night, she developed complications. She suffered from some internal hemorrhage and she bled to death. But before she died, she wrote something with her blood, on the floor,” he said.

“What…” and I had gooseflesh.

“Who’s next?”

What in the hell, does that mean?

I thanked him and left for Atul. “Atul, we should immediately contact some seer, or a witch. I know you would believe this. Neither do I, but circumstances are forcing me to,” Atul read my worried face.

But he dismissed it all. And I dropped him at his house. A lot of persuasion fell into deaf ears. He wouldn’t listen to me. I reached home still thinking about the girl. I couldn’t get her image outta my head. With those bruises and scratches on her face, and her eyes which were still and blank and they haunted me.

In a few minutes, I received a call from Atul. He sounded as if he were freaked out.

“Aniket’s dead”, he said, “His wife just called me. He slipped from the first floor and fell onto a glass dining table when he died instantly. And...” he hung up. I tried calling him back, but of no avail. I immediately rushed to his home. He lived all alone. Observing that the door was open, I slowly pushed it open.

The whole place was so eerie and dark. I could only hear the sound of blood gushing through the inner canals of my ear. I suddenly heard a sound from upstairs and slowly climbed the stairs. His bedroom door was open and through the door I saw him.

He was sitting in a corner of his bedroom constantly staring at the mirror affixed to the dressing table. I walked closely to the mirror and was aghast to see these words.

“Who’s next?”

And I rushed to him. “Atul… Atul… let’s see the seer,” I said. And we started immediately. He still kept looking at the bedroom as we reached his car.

“I will drive,” I told him and he handed me over the keys. “The windshield looks pretty new,” I asked him.

“Yes, remember, that day when we hit that girl, a portion of this windshield was damaged and so I got that one replaced,” he said.

The seer’s place is a 30 minute drive from Atul’s. And we reached his place in no time.

We spoke to his disciple who led us to him. The seer was sitting cross legged and meditating when he suddenly opened his eyes as we approached him.

“I know the reason, why you guys are here,” he said. He closed his eyes once again and started to talk.

“Mirrors are a medium between the real world and trance. A mirror or a glass may be the manifestation of one’s own soul or can be holding another’s soul also. The girl was nearly killed in the accident, and her soul slowly moved into the trance via the windshield.”

“But soul can’t be at two different places at the same time. I mean, how can the windshield trap the soul when she still walked on the road?” Atul asked.

“Death isn’t a sudden process. It’s gradual. It is the process in which the soul moves from the mortal state, I mean the body, into some medium, where it will remain immortal forever.”

“The girl was destined to die at that point when your car hit her. But her soul cannot jump into this immortal medium immediately. The soul searched for a glass medium which can lead it into the trance. And then it found your windshield.”

“And when the windshield got destroyed, her soul was liberated. Else, she would have been trapped in it.”

“Then, what about this?” I interrupted, “The girl wrote ‘Who’s next’ in blood. Also, on this mirror at Atul’s home, ‘Who’s next’ was written on it, in blood.”

“I can’t see that far. Some soul trapped in a mirror is trying to contact you, you either have to help it, or help yourselevs” he said as we slowly got onto our feet when I looked at Atul. He was vomiting blood, spurting all over the place. He was coughing heavily and blood started to ooze through the fine pores of his skin.

“You’ve seen something written in blood on a mirror? Hi soul already started making a transition to the mirror. He’s gonna die soon,” the seer finished as I pulled Atul’s body close to the car and placed him on the rear. “Try to destroy the mirror as soon as possible, so that his soul is not trapped in that,” the seer gave one final piece of advice.

Let me take him to a hospital first, I thought. I drove his car at break neck speed with thousands of thoughts racing through my mind. I rushed him to the nearest hospital when he was pronounced dead.

The girl’s soul transitioned into the mirror and then she’s dead and she says, who’s next. And it was seen by Aniket. He’s crashed onto his dining table and then, he’s dead. Then it was again seen by Atul at his home whose soul transitioned into the mirror before he died. This is a vicious cycle. Who’s next?

And as I walked across the corridor which was almost deserted. The lights flickered as I walked. I was looking around when my eye caught the glimpse of something colored in red and dripping.

I peeped into the adjacent room through a small opening in the door. I slightly pushed the door. ‘Creak’, it opened. I saw a mirror right infront of me. And there were words written on it, dripping blood.

“No, I am not gonna allow my soul to move into the mirror,” I shouted and flung a flower vase onto the mirror. It shattered into pieces.

And I looked at myself. I am fine. Nothing’s wrong with me. My soul wouldn’t leave me cos I broke the mirror. So the transition is not gonna happen.

And I kneeled before the broken pieces. I could see something move. A dark silhouette. I slowly bent down and started to arrange the broken pieces when I saw a reflection. It was dark and hooded and the eyes were burning like red ambers. A chill ran down my spine. And when I looked behind, it slashed the broken glass pane across my neck when blood gushed through....

Astrology

2008-09-21T13:37:00.002+05:30

I never believed in prophecies until this day when…

“I hate this astrologer Guruji. Nisha’s parents broke our marriage cos’ this guy told ‘em that we weren’t compatible. And Nisha’s not bothered about me. Astrology my foot,” my voice echoed the anger deep within my heart.

“Neither do I believe in him. But I had to come here after my parents pressurized me to get our horoscope compatibility checked by him. If something goes wrong, I can still manipulate him, though,” Aman said. His love, Athiva too accompanied us.

“The same drama company dude. Vermillion and turmeric powder smeared on the walls...”

“Shhhh... you supposed to be quiet inside,” a man, seemingly a disciple of the Guruji, said as he approached us. And he led us into a room from where smoke was emanating. I was about to make a call to the fire station when I realized that this entire setup was from some incense sticks.

Guruji sat infront of an idol, with some chakra drawn infront of him. As we slowly approached him, he opened his eyes and stared at me.

“Guruji,” his disciple disturbed him, when his piercing gaze shifted and he was handed over the horoscopes. I wondered how people still believed in horoscopes and matching even in 21st century.

There was silence for a few minutes. Stark silence. The Guru closed his eyes, enchanted some spells, before he suddenly opened his eyes. “All of you are gonna die soon. Just go away from me. The evil spirits are already getting closer. Three of you, all on the same night. First you, you and then you,” his voice trembled as he said this pointing his hand to Athiva, me and Aman respectively.

“What shit?” I said. “And you,” he pointed towards me, “I will tell you why your marriage with Nisha was broken. Your life will end very soon. And the guy who marries Nisha will live for atleast 80 years. Your horoscope was never destined to match with Nisha’s”

A kinda fear started brewing inside me and I started sweating all over.

“The messenger of evil, a dark feline will enter your home, the day the bright constellations are invisible and when heavens start pouring down,” he warned and then stood up and walked away. I haven’t understood a single word but, “What if, your sooth saying goes wrong, sir?” I shouted. He turned back with those bloody red eyes. “I won’t be prophesying anymore,” he retorted.

Aman and Athiva pulled me away from this place.

Our house was only a few blocks away from this place. So we started to walk home. What if his prophesy was really true?

“Guys, I don’t believe in this prophesy. Nothing’s gonna happen. I guess we aren’t characters out of a Stephen King’s novel, right?”

Aman and Athiva nodded. And we reached our home. The whole problem was how to convince their parents for marriage. “We’ll think of other ways,” I convinced them.

A few days passed without this black feline thing or whatever happening, the soothsayer foresaw. And we completely forgot the same. I stayed two blocks away from Aman’s home while Athiva stayed with him.

One evening, I got a call from Aman. “Athiva’s dead,” and he started to cry.

“What?” I shouted.

“I reached the home a few minutes back when I saw a black cat run across my feet. Sensing danger, I walked into the home and..” and he started to sob. “I am coming, just hold on,” I said as I ran towards his home.

I looked at the sky. It was totally clouded. And it was slightly drizzling too. Then, I understood the prophecy. A black feline stood for a black cat, invisible constellations for heavy clouding and heavens pouring for rain. “Damn, today’s the day,” I thought as a chill ran down my spine. And the very thought that, the astrologer pointed his hand to me after Athiva, indicating I was next, frightened me even more.

I reached Aman’s home. The door was partly open. I called out his name, but none responded. I slowly walked into the house. All the things were strewn around. Apparently, there was a lot of struggle. And there she lay, Athiva, in a pool of blood. With scratches all over face and her abdomen ripped apart as if she was mauled over by a wild animal.

I was god damn freaked to see her in such a situation but was even more freaked out when I felt some strange shadow walk past me from behind. I turned behind and I saw a black cat looking at me with those golden yellow eyes, marked with the black contracted pupils at the centre. A low purring started to get louder when I saw its canines dripping blood.

And I ran out of home, closing the door behind me. I dint know where to run. I just kept on running holding onto my dear life, when I tripped over something hard and fell down. It was a man, who was lying on the road. He was bleeding profusely.

“Aman,” I shouted. “What happened Aman?” I was crying.

“b….bl….c….. caa….t….” was all he said before passing out. I fell on his body and wept for a while. Before I was reminded of something.

The astrologer said, first Athiva, then me and then Aman. I am still alive. So, why did Aman die? Something wrong with his soothsaying? And I knew where I was supposed to go.

I rushed to the astrologer’s place. Everything seemed different. No commotion. No hustle bustle. I walked into the astrologer’s room when I saw something that frightened me to the core. For the first time ever in my life, I started to believe in astrology and prophecy.

The astrologer lay down amidst the plates of vermillion and turmeric powder and his tongue was cut and was lying close to him. ‘I won’t be prophesying anymore,’ his words still rang in my ears.

I knew, I had no work there and I started to walk back, with so many thoughts flooding my mind. It was still drizzling and the clouds loomed the entire sky. Athiva’s dead and so was Aman. First it was Athiva, and then somehow, I managed to escape. So the prophesy’s gone wrong and hence the astrologer couldn’t prophesize any more. And then it was Aman. This is vicious.

Let me get back to Aman and Athiva, as I started to walk along the street. Let me inform the police, first. And I reached for the cellular in my pocket. There was a missed call from Aman. I dialed the voice mail.

‘Hey, the prophesy is gonna be true. The only way we can prevent ourselves from being killed is to stop the astrologer from foretelling the future again. And this can be done…’

So, it was Aman who slashed the astrologer’s tongue. But he still got killed. My head was reeling and I was confused. Should I be happy that I am still alive and that the prophecy has gone wrong in my case or should I lament over the loss of my two dearest friends?

And my cellular started to ring all of a sudden. A call from some unknown number.

“Son, I just wanted to warn you. Today is the particular day, I’ve spoken about. I tried to call Aman and Athiva. They were unreachable over the mobile. So I am calling you,” a recognizable voice from the other end spoke.

“But, how could you sp… speak? I was dumbstruck to hear Guruji speak. “I mean I came to your place and I saw you lying in a pool of blood,” I told him.

“Some murderer came over to my place and they slashed my disciple’s tongue, before he fled the place,” was his answer.

That could be true. I saw a man lying in a pool of blood and in that utter chaos and tension and also in the dark, I dint bother to look at his face or his body. All I saw was a man, lying still, in a pool of blood.

“But you pointed out to Athiva, me and Aman, stating that we would die in a sequence,” I asked him.

“When did I tell that you are gonna die in this sequence,” he said.

When I realized where I am gonna be in my future! Hell!

There was a heavy gust of wind and the trees started to shake violently. Occasionally a loud thunder would deafen my ears.

I rushed to my home. The windows banged against the sills due to this wind. I rushed to the windows to close them when I heard a purring sound from behind. I turned back and I could see the black cat.

It slowly moved towards me. My hands shivered as I bent down and took the cat into my arms, running my fingers through its fur.

“Had a nice meal, my baby?” I kissed it and looked at the mirror. I was standing infront of the mirror with the cat in my hands. My eyes looked blank with two dark black lines cutting across the whites and my canines were still dripping blood and the claws slowly retracted.

The Seance

2008-09-21T13:32:00.003+05:30

Raman, me and three of our friends were seriously discussing about ghosts. “There is nothing like evil or demon in this world. It’s our outlook regarding energies that makes our actions seem good or bad which we attribute to God or devil respectively,” Raman said.

Arpit was more of a spiritual kind. “Nature has created two powers, one positive and another negative. The positive which we attribute to as God and the negative, evil,” he was interrupted.

Jai was a man of science. “I don’t believe in spiritualism until and unless I am confronted by this negative power,” and he looked at Arpit challengingly. Prove it.

“Let’s do a séance,” Arpit proposed. All of us were interested though slightly hesitant. It was something, never done before.

“Do we need an Ouija board or something?” I asked him.

“There are different ways of conducting a séance. We’ll try the trance and channeling way. There are few risks involved too. First and foremost, if someone else comes to know about this, we would be mistaken for a satanic cult. Secondly, the pentagram, the candles and other setup, if done in our apartment can raise doubts amongst our neighbors that we are black magic practitioners,” Arpit said.

Nikhil, the fifth one added, “There’s my farm house, a few KM’s away from the international airport, Shamshabad” and a smile crossed all our faces.

Three days later, we arrived at Nikhil’s farmhouse on the outskirts. The farm house is 3 KM from the B’lore highway and the whole area being wooded, we had to resume our journey on foot.

I alighted down the car and looked at the sky. It was a new moon day. And I had goose bumps when the wind lashed my exposed skin. A chill ran down my spine. This is the month of December and its freezing out here. The milieu was perfectly creepy. Amidst the rustling of the leaves and chirping of the crickets we trampled the grass blades and made our way to the outhouse.

Nikhil pulled out some keys and unlocked the door. We entered the house. I pulled out the candles and other paraphernalia, Raman chalked the pentagram on the table and we sat along the corners.

The candles were lit along the corners of the inner pentagon.

“All of us remember what we are supposed to do,” Arpit said. We held our hands and looked at each other. “We’ll not break this chain until and unless the spirit becomes uncontrollable”

And then Raman started, “Oh sacred spirits, we bring you gifts from life into death. Communicate with us….” And he went on chanting some spells.

Jai was seated to my left. And he slowly started gripping my hand. His hands started to become cold all of a sudden. An invasion of the spirit, I thought.

“Never open your eyes, whatever happens”, I still remembered the word of caution.

Jai was crunching my hand. I could feel his body vibrating and he banged himself onto the seat.

I could imagine him jumping and tossing on the chair much like Regan in ‘The Exorcist’. I was sweating profusely. And my heart was thumping.

You are confronted by a force in which you never had faith throughout your life. As a student of science, I’ve never believed in ghosts and spirits. And now the inevitable truth is being unfolded right in front of me.

I wanted to shriek, loudly but I suddenly felt him easing the pressure on my hand before he disconnected with us. We heard a thud sound and we opened our eyes.

Jai was pushed forcibly onto the floor and there he lay in a state of shock. There were convulsions on his face. And fright on the others. He’s possessed?

We rushed towards him and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“How can this happen? The spirit will use one of us as a medium, a channeling medium, but it shouldn’t possess us...” Raman said. We looked perplexed.

“An evil spirit?” Raman was about to say something when Jai spoke.

“I suddenly saw a tunnel. It was totally dark when I heard a voice calling my name. I saw two huge hands coming to grab me. For a minute I felt as if I had no control on my body. I could hear my soul hollering inside my hollow body and suddenly I let go your hands,” Jai, convalescing from the shock, replied looking at me and Arpit. Arpit was sitting to the right of Jai.

Me and Arpit walked out of the room to smoke. As I puffed, Arpit said warily, “do you really think a spirit contacted us?”

The very chant of word ‘spirit’ made me tremble. I nodded.

After a while I walked deep into the woods to pe@. I heard two familiar voices whisper, “We’ll sit next to each other, when the séance is in progress, we’ll play this prank…” and the voices slowly faded out. Jai and Raman played a prank on us. My blood boiled with rage and anger.

I narrated the whole story to Arpit. “Let’s play the prank before they fool us,” he said and I grinned.

All of us sat again at the earmarked positions and held our hands. It’s been 15 minutes and nothing’s happening. I slightly pressed Arpit’s hand indicating him to start.

And all of a sudden, he started to vomit blood and broke the chain. He held his neck with both his hands and ran amok in the room before he opened the door and rushed outside. Man, he’s an Oscar winner.

All the others were totally aghast seeing this violent outcome happen right infront of their eyes. I particularly liked the spasmodic contractions due to fright on the faces of Jai and Raman.

I decided not to take this too far. And I started to laugh out loud. All of them were baffled.

“So, you guys played wanted to play this prank on us…” I said furiously looking at Raman.

“W…W….WH…what prank?” Raman’s voice trembled.

The parallel tracks

2008-09-21T12:44:00.002+05:30

2007 June 23

I slowly exerted pressure on my calf muscles and raised my body. I swayed a bit but I controlled myself and started to walk along the tracks even as the ballast hurt my feet. I stared at the tracks …. When somebody held my hand.

2006 June 23

“I Love you… Baby,” Akrit said, the word baby personifying his love towards me. There was this particular grin plastered across my face which meant I was the happiest girl in this world. Akrit clasped my hand and held it close to his heart. I could feel the warmth of his love. At the moment, I had only one wish.

Leave behind everything and walk with him down these tracks till the point where they meet. He wrapped his hand around my slender waist and pulled me closer to him when my hair doused his shoulder as my head rested on it before my eyelids dropped dead while we started to walk along.

“Phhhhh oonnnnkkkkkkkk…….” There was a sound. Yet I never cared to open my eyes. I can go the distance, blindly when Akrit’s with me.

2007 June 23

The honking became incessantly loud when I felt a force pushing me and the next moment I was off the tracks. I stared at the tracks and pushed myself along them. The knee length milk skirt which I wore was tattered. Blood oozed from the calf area and I pulled myself.

“Are you a couple of tinnies short of the slab? Can’t you see a train coming your way?” Tina hollered at me.

Ever since Akrit broke up with me, I was outta my mind. Two years of love, how could he ever forget? I have given him my heart and soul. They say, love is blind. For me, faith is also equally blind.

2006 June 23

“I am too emotionally attached to you, Akrit,” I said and paused for a while. “You will always be there… for me?” I wasn’t questioning his faith, I thought.

He looked into my eyes and held my cheeks with his fingers. “You won’t ditch me right?” I asked him. I was frightened. He was nicest guy I have ever met. And he loved me a lot too.

When you have something which you hold above everything else in this world, you always have the fright of losing it. So you are possessive of it, never let it go away from you.

“I promise,” he said with a kiss on my forehead. And we continued walking down the tracks as there were tears in my eyes, tears of happiness that cascaded down my cheeks.

2007 June 23

I wiped the tears off my cheeks. I was always frightened that I would lose him and so did I. Not that I never had faith in him, but that’s the way of love.

Tina, my best friend is trying to console me. “I will never let him marry another girl,” I said.

Initially, I was angry with him. But as days passed by, the ephemeral anger subdued and the abysmal love surfaced. I missed him. I loved him so much.

“The tracks are a way of thinking in life. Both the tracks should run parallel. From either side, there should be love. Only then a journey called life becomes meaningful on a train called love. He doesn’t like you anymore. Whatever you do, he isn’t gonna come back. And you will also forget the pain in a few months if not years,” Tina delivered her speech and continued, “So trash these feelings of yours and resume your journey on these tracks called life.”

2006 June 23

“But they tend to converge as they approach the horizon. My love for you will die only at that point,” he said with a smile.

“Poetic, huh?” I raised my brow.

“Romantic,” he replied.

“And you will be very well dead at that point where it dies,” I looked straight into his eyes.

2007 June 23

There was a lot of commotion around. I have reached the platform but I still walked from between the tracks. People were aghast to see a girl in a skirt drenched in blood walk along the tracks.

Drops of blood trickled down the knife.

“What are you doing?” Tina rushed towards me. I just slashed my wrists.

“Look at this…” I showed her my wrist.

Everybody could see was a speeding train coming along the tracks.

Current day

I told this story to my husband as we waiting for the train, on the platform.

“How do you know her story so well?” he asked me. I worked as a psychologist.

“And you mean to say she’s dead?” he asked me one more and kept bombarding, “What happened to Tina?”

“Tina is an alter ego of her. Tina never existed. It was her own self which kept convincing her that she should go on with her life even after the breakup,” I replied.

“What happened to Akrit?” he asked.

“Akrit’s dead body was found a few miles from the station. Police ascertained that he was stabbed by a woman, most probably the same girl. But she was never found again.”

“Why did she slit her wrists? She killed herself?” he said winking at me, “the last one, please”

“Every one else were of the same opinion,” I said as I rolled up my sleeve and looked at the scars on my wrist.

The train slowly pulled itself along the tracks and I resumed my journey.

50 horror\slasher\crime flicks you must watch

2008-09-21T12:28:00.001+05:30

Hollywood has produced cult classics like Exorcist, Evil dead etc. But there are other film makers worldwide who have produced even better works. From the land of the rising sun, from the land of prancing horses and Lamborghinis and from the land of raging bulls and broken walls come even better horror and slasher flicks.

Most of these movies are made in 1980’s which is considered the golden period for horror\slasher flicks. Not in any order though, I give you the list of 50 finest horror and slasher flicks ever made.

1) Silence of the lambs - Antony Hopkins in the greatest crime movie ever. Based on the novel by Thomas Harris, the transsexual Buffalo Bill is inspired by America’s most famous serial killers Ted Bundy, Ed Gein(who also inspired Texas chain saw massacre)

2) Psycho - Antony Perkins in this slasher flick kills people based on his dead mom's directions (he still thinks’ his mom's alive) watch part-1 and 2. Hold your breath; you can’t afford to miss the shower stabbing scene with the spine chilling screeching string score by Bernard Herrmann.

3) Exorcist - Based on the book by William Peter Blatty feat. the famous ‘spider walk’ and other scenes like the Regan shouting,”f*** me”, vomiting slime etc, making this one of the most interesting horror movies ever to watch. I really don’t know how horrifying it would have been in 1973 when it was released.

4) The Omen - Harvey Stephen’s outstanding performance as the devil’s child Damien, is the predecessor to all those child based horror and slasher flicks. While the background score itself haunts your memories, the kills themselves are chillingly frightening. Think about a cross being flung from the top of a spire or the baby sitter hanging herself from the window, I guess this is classic horror at its best.

5) Evil dead (only part -1) - This was the first movie by Sam Raimi (director of Spiderman trilogy) and one of the finest movies in the world of horror. Though the movie drew criticism for its extreme graphic gore and horror content, I guess this is the perfect horror movie of the century which is based on ambience or milieu. Watch it when you are all alone with lights turned out.

6) The shining - Stephen King’s adaptation and Stanley Kubrick’s finest directorial with the acting of the millennium by Jack Nicholson. Particularly Danny Lloyd shouting REDRUM and Jack Torrence typing “all work and no play make jack a dull boy” will freak you out.

7) Halloween - Both the films, by John Carpenter (1982) and by Rob Zombie (2007) are extremely good for an average slasher flick fan. But Rob Zombie’s 2007 flick makes Mike Myers even more psychopathic with the zoo sadism tendencies shown in his childhood. With his penchant for masks, Mike Myers is a better killing machine than before.

8) Friday the 13th - Who wouldn’t have read about Jason and his machete and the hockey mask? Though there are many sequels, a handful of them are very good.

9) A nightmare on Elm Street - Wes Craven’s beauty. You are stalked in your dreams and you wake up to find it all for real. What else can be more chilling? Just like Friday the 13th, many sequels have followed the original, but a few of them are good. There is a movie when both the antagonists fight with one another called, “Freddy vs Jason”

10) Pulp Fiction - Watch this for Travolta and Uma Thurman. Watch this for Quentin Tarantino’s directing style. Watch this to know what America was in late 80’s and early 90’s. Watch this cos this is one of the greatest movies on crime and pop culture ever directed.

11) Kill Bill I and II - Tarantino’s revenge sequels. A former assassin’s husband is shot dead infront of her at wedding time in a church. Now the bride craves for vengeance. This movie is so special, for it has Uma Thurman, Lucy Liu, Michael Madsen and above all David Carradine. Some billion gallons of artificial blood was used in part -1 which features one of the finest soundtracks of revenge “Battle Without Honor or Humanity" by Tomoyasu Hotei and the Pai Mei’s five point heart exploding technique in part-2 is an inspiration from Dim Mak of the far east and the Varma kalai or Varma ati of Kerala.

12) Godfather - Should we talk about Francis Ford Coppola or Marlon Brando or Al Pacino or Mario Puzo. Filmmakers all over the world have paid tributes to the 1972 original by scripting their own, but the sheen never even reached miles close to that of the original. Watch this for the drama and crime. Also feat. the beautiful star of yesteryears, Diane Keaton. And if you think this hasn’t satiated your senses, check out the sequels too. Top rated movie of the century. Crime will never be the same again.

13) Saw - Excellent movie. Watch all the four parts. I guess a serial killer can never get better than jig-saw. Very gross and very bloody. Now there is a real autopsying scene in Saw 3 which isn’t for the faintest of the hearts or the weakest of the stomachs. It will churn the contents from inside out. I rate this as the goriest movie\sequels of all times. And a good news for all you horror aficionados. The next two installments are gonna be coming soon.

14) The Ring - I haven’t seen the Japanese original. But this itself was freaky to a certain extent. At certain places it makes you jump over your seat. Watch this when you are alone. And the sequel is chillingly good too. You watch a video and you finish it when you get a call. A few minutes later you are dead. Now follow Naomi watts into the entwined mystery of Samara and the ring. But the original ring was said to be one of the most frightening movies ever made.

15) The shutter(thai) - I have never known that the movies from far east are so chilling and frightening until I saw this. Superb tale of love, rejection, murder and horror and finally vengeance. The language is thai, but the dvd comes with subtitles. And don’t miss the ending.

16) Seven - A deranged serial killer Kevin spacey kills one each for the seven sins. Now the last of the seventh sin has been committed and what will detective Mills, played by Brad Pitt do to stop it? Or rather...... One of the finest and darkest movies I have ever seen.

17) Identity - I wouldn’t call this horror or gore, though there are certain scenes like a man sitting dead on a chair with a baseball bat driven wide into his mouth. But this is the mother of all psychological thrillers of our time. I guess the best movie ever on split personality\alter ego and phenomenal performance by John Cussack. Another good one on the similar lines is “Session 9”

18) Last house on the left - The first and finest of Wes Craven. A chilling tale of revenge when two guys seek shelter in the last house on the left only to be tortured and killed by the owner and his wife as an act of revenge for raping and killing their daughter.

19) American Psycho - The best acting by Christian Bale (after his acting in Equilibrium). Too good a slasher and a psycho movie that you can’t afford to miss this. And believe me. This gory flick was written and directed by Mary Harron, yes a female.

20) Texas chainsaw massacre - Be it the Tobe Hooper’s original or the remake, both of them are equally chilling and gory. Watch the remake for the colour effects and the epilogue which shows a documentary kinda video almost making the story seem real. Ofcourse inspired by serial killer Ed Gein comes the sleazy ‘Leather Face’. In short, this guy kills women and skins them to stitch a mask for his disfigured face. The scene where he lifts a guy and hangs him to the hook when the guy suffers in pain is one of the most chilling scenes ever.

21) Hostel - Eli Roth’s macabre epic. The film has the worst moments of torture ever. Be it Jay Hernandez plucking off the half hanging eyeball from a girl and then some fluid oozes out (yuck) or be it the way in which they dispose the human parts, or even worse, the Slovakian kids hitting and killing a man by smashing his head with stones for some chocolates, gore to the core.

22) Suspiria - One of my favourites and Dario Argento’s best horror movie. This is about a girl who joins a college only to find that it’s run by witches. Revealing anything other than the tagline will remove the sheen, the tagline of which says, “The only thing more terrifying than the Last 12 minutes of this film are the first 92”. Another highlight of the film is the creepy music composed by Argento himself and the band Goblin.

23) Tenebrae - If you thought about super sports cars, beautiful women, great food and finest architecture, then you are thinking Italy. And here comes the god of serial killer movies. The only drawback, the language is Italian. Rumored to be based on Dario Argento’s real life incident when he was stalked, this is serial killer at his best. And the basic idea of this movie was stolen in other serial killer movies like seven, bone collector etc.

24) Fallen - Detective John Hobbes captures serial killer Edgar Reese and he’s executed too. But after his death start killings again with the same pattern. Reese seemingly killed people under the influence of the demonic possession by Azazel, who can move from one body to another just by a simple touch. I guess the five minute sequence of body hopping sneering Hobbes is just too awesome to be described in words. Whether evil wins over good forms the rest of the story. Denzel Washington as John Hobbes impresses after his acclaimed performance in Bone Collector.

25) Anatomie - This is a German film. But do watch it with the subtitles. A young medical student joins a hospital as an anatomist only to find that she’s amidst a brotherhood that conducts anatomies on live specimens. Pure slasher horror from Germany.

26) Kalifornia - One movie feat. Brad Pitt and David Duchovny (protagonist of X-Files). Duchovny is a psychology student who goes to a serial killer murder sites along with Pitt who hitches a ride, not knowing that Pitt himself is the serial killer. If you have loved Brad Pitt as detective Mills in Se7en, you will love him as serial killer, Early Grayce in Kalifornia.

27) Descent - A troubled woman whose husband’s dead in a car accident goes for a holiday trip with her five friends. And they descend down a cave. One of the girls has another thought in her mind; to discover a new cave formation where nobody else has dared to go. Will they survive the translucent humanoid creatures of the dark which start attacking them? Very much graphic and gory.

28) Memento - The entire movie is shot in reverse chronological sequence. Wonderful plot, short term amnesia, and Guy Pierce make this move one of the best sought after thrillers.

29) Zodiac - Perhaps the best movie ever based on a real serial killer who evaded the police of San Francisco and the unknown face that personified fear amongst the urban population in the 1970’s. The movie uncovers the murders, the possible suspects etc from the eyes of a journalist. This is crime drama at its best.

30) Ju-on - Remade as Grudge, this Japanese movie will put Hollywood remakes to shame. The original movie is even more frightening. And if you thought the Grudge itself was frightening, think again, think Japanese. I rate this second best to Ring in terms of Japanese horror.

31) Gin-gwai - Based on the concept of cellular memory and time warp, the original Japanese movie scores well beyond its Hollywood counterpart, The Eye(2008). This is a psychological horror at its best. Though remade in Hindi as Naina, I loved the Telugu movie release way back in 80’s called Kokila which freaked me out as a kid.

32) The hills have eyes - A perfect family holiday turns violently macabre when a cannibal group attacks them beyond the hills. If you love cannibalism and if you love graphic gore, this movie is a must for you. No other story creeps you more when the cannibals suddenly appear and start to prey on one by one from the family.

33) I know what you did last summer - A perfect urban legend kinda movie. Few friends after returning from a prom hit a man in an accident and they drown him in a nearby river thinking him to be dead. Very soon, each of them is stalked with a note saying I know what you did last summer. Watch it for the first time; it will be an edge of the seat thriller. I liked the sequel, I still know …., particularly the ending.

34) House of 1000 corpses - This is carnage at its best. Rom Zombie’s best ever horror film in which four friends pay their visit to a museum of madness and monsters next to a gas station. After a so called murder ride, a lady hikes a ride only to take them to her house where the family of lunatics wants them dead. Torture and gore at its best.

35) The Devil’s rejects - This is a sequel to house of 1000 corpses. Three members of the torturous firefly family(from the house of 1k corpses) escape when police raid the house. In the wake of the other murders they commit, the media describes them as the devil’s rejects and it’s up to the sheriff to stop them who is bent upon revenge for his brother’s murder.

36) Scream - A serial killer stalks people and kills them the way it was shown in the movie. The starting sequence of the movie itself when the masked serial killer kills people in the theatre is damn good. Now the serial killer is behind a girl whose mom was also supposedly killed by him. Good twists. Again, a film by Wes Craven that rewrote slasher flicks.

37) Brain dead - From the director of LOTR and King Kong comes this squeamish movie. Blood being splattered on the wall, zombies biting humans and they in turn turning into zombies etc and etc. The protagonist’s possessive mom is bitten by some rat monkey in a zoo when she turns into a zombie. And he hides the bitten people who in turn are zombies and his mother in his basement, when his uncle unleashes them all at a party.

38) Night of the living dead(1968) - Now this movie ushered the audience into a new era of horror genre. Zombies. Though this is a real practice in Haiti islands, I guess George A Romero made this world famous. Now the original black and white flick had all those gory and grotesque scenes which are copied and re-enacted in a variety of ways in all zombie\cannibal movies. If you are a fan of gore, then don’t miss any zombie movie of George A Romero. There will be atleast 3-4 scenes which are squirmiest to the core. Another must watch is ‘Dawn of the dead’ and the 2008 remake, ‘Day of the dead’

39) Haute Tension - This French movie by Alexandre Aja lives up to its name, the plot and the direction increase the tension as the story paces ahead.. There is a rotary chainsaw much akin to the Texas chainsaw massacre but the killings are far more gruesome by the malevolent killer.

40) Chakushin ari - This Japanese flick was remade in Hollywood as ‘one missed call’. I downloaded Chakushin ari cos it introduced new age horror to Japanese audience (though I had great difficulty in finding the movie). People start receiving phone calls from their future selves about how they are gonna be die. Excellent movie. Watch in Japanese with English subtitles.

41) Audition - Another Japanese extremely gruesome movie. Torture, terror, sadomasochism, macabre are a few words that can describe this. A widower arranges for an audition to select a bride when some one amongst the potential bride is a.... Classic one from Takashi Mike. The end is a lil’ shaky but the second part of the film contains most disturbing sequences ever filmed.

42) In the mouth of madness - Referencing Stephen king’s and H.P.Lovecraft’s short stories, this extreme horror flick from John Carpenter is about the thin line separating reality and insanity. Great acting by Sam Neill and Jurgen Prochnow. Lots of squirmish scenes.

43) Cannibal Holocaust - One movie worth mentioning. This is banned in more than a hundred countries for its despicable content. Nudity, gross, cannibalism and sleazy and abominable to the core. A jungle rat is poked into with a knife and the blood is poured out of it. This is one scene from the movie. The most sucking movie I have ever seen. Enjoyable, only for a true psychopath or a cannibal.

44) The Amityville horror - Based on the book by Jay Anson (the first ever novel I read), this is creepy movie based on the evil that haunt the house. “He slit his throat so that his presence would live forever” dialogue spooks me often. I guess the original 1978 movie was even better; nevertheless the remake is good too. There are doubts as to whether this incident really happened in America, because Anson says it based on real facts.

45) Pet Semetary - Adapted from Stephen king’s novel, this is again a classic tale of horror. Most of Stephen king’s stories move around animals, that too dogs and cats. This will give you real spooks.

List II

Now if you are not satisfied yet, there is a series going on in America called Masters of Horror. (They will never be aired in India for the highly disturbing gore and adult content. but u can get a DVD...) just watch these episodes

1) Dance of the dead - where dead are resuscitated to life and they are made to dance, when the owner earns money. Perfectly creepy

2) Jennifer - the face of Jennifer itself will haunt you. Her eyes and her animalized seductions are way too scary

3) Sounds like - super tale of horror when a man hears every minute possible sound cos of some disorder and finally cuts off his own ears

4) The Screw fly Solution - chaos regain when a hormone to control flies goes awry and men start attacking women, killing them.

5) The damned thing - supernatural horror and more....

Notable misses are Aliens, Jaws and such kinda movies, as I don’t consider animals or aliens being more frightening and horrifying than man himself. Also flicks like Poltergeist etc. are too kiddy kinda of movies at least for the present age. Other movies like Cube, Covenant etc are thrillers type.

But the movies that don’t make it to my list are white noise, what lies beneath, signs, dragon-fly etc. More of a psychological thriller than horror and gore. Sin city isn’t included cos of its adaptation from Frank Miller’s comics though its gory, the colours part prevent you from seeing the actual gore. John Carpenter’s ‘The thing’ is again an extraterrestrial horror and so it’s excluded.

the dent

2008-09-21T12:22:00.001+05:30

Every dent has a story to tell...

‘Thud’ the door was slammed. ‘What the hell’ I turned behind. For a minute I felt I was sitting in infront of a bout when The Undertaker choke slammed Batista and ‘thud’ there was a sound. God damn, this is a Getz, not a 1970 model ambassador, I wanted to shout. The more I seemed to love my car, the more I am confronted to such incidents.

I clucked the seat belt and shifted to the first gear, disengaging the clutch. I just had a glance at the rear view mirror when I saw something dark move, real fast. What’s that? I have never seen a thing move so fast. It was in my car’s rear seat. I looked behind. There’s nothing, I shrugged my shoulders.

Damn f@#king alcohol. My eyelids were too heavy. I can still manage to drive. It’s only a matter of 50 KM. Still swaying under the influence of Johnny Walker, I was driving along the Karimnagar highway towards Hyderabad. The roads were pretty empty. 30...40...50... the indicator slowly crossed one mark after the other.

Just then I was blinded by a dipper from behind. Alcohol in the blood and with more and more adrenaline being pumped, I am a tough customer to deal with, particularly on the road.

I took a deep breath and a fresh intake of oxygen by my lungs slightly negated the alcohol effect. “I see you,” I said as I stepped up the gas. The red indicator upped from two to five on the tachometer which reads per 1000rpm. Still in the 4th gear, my car raced from 50 to 100 KMPH in five seconds flat.

Holding the wheel with my left hand with my thumb locking the groove, I lifted my right hand and showed my index finger, the McDowell’s way and said, “I like it my way” still looking at the rear view mirror triumphantly with a raised Jack Nicholson’s devilish brow.

But to my horror, two pairs of eyes were seemingly watching me and gaining on me. The headlights of which flashed on and off, the Urban Legend style. I turned behind to warn him when I saw a dark silhouette holding an axe and dashing towards my car.

A drop of sweat meandered through the dusky beard and in that moment of trepidation, the alcohol effect faded out and I was back to my senses.

Why the hell is this black car guy following me? “Oh shit... damn shit...” I just remembered what happened a few minutes back.

Returning from my friends B’ day party, I was trying to overtake a vehicle when I saw a lorry coming in the opposite direction. I had to either brake or accelerate further overtaking the black car on my left. The lorry was almost 300 metres away when I swerved in the path of the black car. He had no choice but to swerve further left to avoid a collision with my car. And the next moment he was off the road into the fields.

I wanted to apologize but at this time and in this condition, a definite ‘no’. All I saw was a thick trail of dust in the direction where’s he gone. No, where he’s forced into.

And now, I see he’s coming back for me. This unprecedented action of mine has provoked him. With a clenched fist, I hit my chin. “I brushed against some rogue criminal. He’s having an axe in his hand and right now, he’s behind me,” I called up my friend. “Keep driving. Don’t stop. I will inform the police,” he said.

“Keep driving, my ass,” there was a pause for a while. “Man, he can drive,” I thought, wondering how he must have come back onto the road.

I have almost reached the cantonment road and my engine was already rattling at this speed. And suddenly there was a jerk and I was pushed forward. “Damn...he rammed into me...” I thought as my head whipped against the headrest. I gripped the wheel firmly before ‘thud’. Once again. This time he hit even more forcibly. The tyres screeched like a Beethoven’s high pitched Quartet and my car swerved before I finally managed to balance it.

I looked at the rear view mirror. He was approaching even faster this time. I was prepared for the worst when I saw an Army truck coming in the perpendicular direction, ram into the black car behind me, a scene straight out of a Hollywood flick.

Then I noticed that I was crossing a + junction when I dint notice the red signal. I was lucky enough to cross the road but he wasn’t. I had a good mind to stop my car and help him out. But something sinister inside me held back my nerves and I reached home in a few minutes.

The whole night I had a disturbed sleep and I was troubled by the fact that I was responsible for the accident. The next morning I raced to the same place where the accident happened. There were no signs of any wreckage nor any burnt marks of the tyres on the road.

“Bloody f@#king shit... I just saw it yesterday night,” I told my friend. “Shall we check out with the police?” I asked. “That will pose a problem to you,” he said and I nodded.

I was back at my home and completely forgot about this incident and was browsing through the net. Just then a Pop-up window appeared from nowhere. Must be one of those f@#king porn promos, I thought as I was about to close the window when the photo of a truck caught my attention.

“Shit...” A chill ran down my spine and the window gave me the scare of my life. Two years back, a black car was hit by a speeding Army truck at 12:30 AM on 11-April. I looked at the date today. It’s 11-April.

I immediately ran a Google search for the same and the news archive from The Hindu confirmed the same.

Many questions crisscrossed my mind. Hadn’t the black car hit me twice, I would have been dead like him. Did his ghost come and save me? Is he caught in a time warp and he’s trying to save me or any other soul who’s coming in this way? What about the dent?

I totally forgot about the dent.

“Damn,” I pushed the reclining chair and dashed downstairs towards my car. I almost froze in fright when I saw the rear portion of my car badly dented. I neared the car and ran my fingers through the dented bumper and then looked at them. They were smeared with a black paint. My Getz is a blue coloured one. That means I must have been hit by a black coloured car. A ghost for real? And I trembled.

My sister and brother, almost 10 years younger to me, listened to this narration holding their breaths even as I showed them the dent on the Getz. There was silence for a while before my dad called out my name.

“The black car guy who’s dashed your car is here. Get the matter settled soon,” he said. And I looked at my sister and brother who were staring fiercely at me. And I knew it’s my time to get dented.

Dont tell your dream

2008-06-29T08:45:00.001+05:30

When I was a kid, my dad always told me this story. A kid was challenged to visit a cemetery at the night. And he went there and as a proof that he visited the cemetery, he’s supposed to hammer a nail into one certain gravestone. When he tried to turn back he felt something pulling him, which freaked him out. Later they came to know that he hammered the nail on his knickers’.

“Fear is the biggest ghost within,” he would conclude.

“This is summer and let’s do some activity, yaar” Rohit said. “Where’s the S.O.B. Akrit?” I asked him. “He’s not even called us in few days,” I continued.

Just then I received a call on my mobile. “Sorry guys, I moved into a new place. I was busy with these household chores that I couldn’t call you. I am hosting a party, only three of us,” and he gave us the address, “Aston Villa no.13, Road No. 78, Jubilee hills” and this address echoed in my ears again and again.

“Dude, we have some activity now,” I said looking at Rohit. And we geared up for the evening. “Arey macha, wassup da? Been a long time since we saw you,” we went and hugged Akrit. The sun has almost set and we reached the destined place a few minutes back.

And after Rohit hugged him, I looked at his shirt. “Damn f@k, where the hell did you stain your shirt with these blood marks?” I was curious. “Akrit, you are bleeding macha?” Rohit asked. “Oh, shit,” he looked at his wrist which was seemingly slashed by a blade.

We bandaged his hand after washing it with an antiseptic. And we then proceeded to dine after a round of hard drinks.

“Wait… wait… how the f@k did you move into this house?” Rohit suddenly asked. “This is my ancestral property and I am supposed to be moving here,” he replied.

“Where are your parents, then?” I asked.

“They left a few minutes back”

Left where, I thought.

“Man, I have a hunch that we should also leave,” Rohit said.

“Where so early… I ammm wautuiiinnnhh feur uuhhhh,” Akrit muttered even as he jumped onto Rohit. His skin suddenly started to peel off and blister very much like a zombie. I immediately rushed for a log lying nearby and was about to hit him when Rohit shouted, “Stop…”

“F@k you, you would have wounded me badly,” Akrit shouted. Damn, he’s fine. Was it my delusion? F@king shit.

“I guess you had enough kick. Retire to sleep,” they advised me. I am still uncomfortable.

Akrit slept in a separate room and me and Rohit slept in another room.

And I slowly woke up and proceeded to the table. I picked up a blade lying on the table. And I looked at my wrists. With a single blow I slashed my own wrists. And blood started to ooze uncontrollably. But instead of the pain, I felt something relieving me of my insomnia. But I dint stop this here.

I picked up the blade and slid the sharp edge over the neck’s ridge. “Glug…glug…” blood spurted out from the cut and filled the windpipe that I wasn’t able to breathe.

I hit my head hard onto the pillow and my body pressed heavily against the mattress when I suddenly woke up. F@king shit, that was a dream…it seemed so real.

Rohit narrated how he picked up the blade and slashed his wrists in the dream. A few minutes back three of us shouted almost in sync. Three of us had some god damn nightmares. The first one to narrate was Rohit. And then it was Akrit’s turn.

“And I walked out of the bedroom to drink water. I slowly opened the door of the other bedroom to have a look at you guys. What I saw perhaps should have blanked me out, in fear. I saw myself sleeping next to Rohit. And my skin peeled off at places and I was rotting...” Akrit stopped suddenly, “I cant continue....”

What is wrong with this place? Why these nightmares to three of us? I thought. “What about your nightmare?” Rohit asked me. “I just forgot,” I looked at them in utter astonishment. Damn, what was it...

And we retired again to sleep. All the while I was tossing and turning unable to sleep. I was so restless. What the f@k!!!

“Rohit....” I shrugged him.

He seemed to be in a deep sleep. He refused to wakeup. He was sleeping prone when I turned him over. F@k F@k, he was bleeding. His wrists and his neck were slashed. I looked at him and he held the blade in his hand.

I rushed to the next room where Akrit was sleeping. A sudden stink of a dead carcass made me nauseate and I pushed the door open to find him rotting.

I was so freaked out that I ran out of the house. Never even tried to look back. My dear life was not in my hands, but in my legs. I ran as far as my legs could carry me before collapsing onto the ground.

The next morning I woke up when somebody sprinkled water on my face. Pushing myself out of the curious onlookers crowd, I ran back to Aston villa no.13.

I reached the place. But there was no house where me and Rohit stopped yesterday night. Did I miss the house? I looked at the name plate of the previous house. It read no.12 and I walked a little further. It read no. 14.

Damn f@k, where did 13 go? And I saw a small gap in-between no.12 and no.14. I walked a little inside when I saw a huge board which read Aston villa, overlooking which was a cemetery.

I closed my mouth with my hand as I nauseated. My head reeled over yesterday’s events.

“Wake up….” I distinctly heard a sound. Which became more lucid and loud. Suddenly I woke up from the bed, very much at my home.

I immediately pushed aside the quilt and reached for my mobile. I dialed Rohit. But he wasn’t picking. I dialed Akrit. His mother answered my call.

“Can I talk to Akrit, aunty,” I asked. She started crying. “Akrit’s passed away a few days back,” I could make out from her words amidst her melancholy.

Shit, without saying another word I cut the call.

And I removed the cap of my pen and started to write this story.

“When I was a kid my dad always told me this story….”

I wrote a few paragraphs. I just remembered my dream. Rohit before slashing his wrists and neck, cuts off my fingers. And I was about to pen down the same when I saw blood blotting the paper. I dropped the pen onto the paper. One by one, drops of blood trickled onto the paper. I looked above. There was nothing. Where the hell is this blood dripping from?

I tried to hold the pen but I couldn’t. I looked at my hands and there were no fin....

The twisted night

2008-03-10T17:26:00.000+05:30

Based on a true story…..

India is the land of gods. Innumerable prayers are offered to them every minute to an equal number of them. I believe in one God – The God. I don’t exactly believe in idol worship though I am not an iconoclast in anyways. What I mean to say is, God is the ultimate power, omnipresent, omnifarious and of course omniscient. But I normally see and pray to an image or an idol. The whole reason, I need to concentrate on some form of Him when I am praying. My prayers should converge at his feet and not diffuse into the thin air, which is also God Himself anyways, but concentrating on his image and praying gives me more satisfaction, even though I pray to Him in my inner self a few times too. I am too young and hardly know anything to say anything about god. The whole reason why I was speaking about God….

Nature is beautiful in its own way that it has created an opposing force for everything in this world. Even if I see God as a positive force from the eye of a physicist or an atheist, there should also exist a negative force. As we normally see in movies or read in books, the presence of a negative force is felt by a cold wave which sweeps across or a drop in temperature or a cross which hangs upside down.

I believe in the existence of a negative force, even though my senses haven’t had its manifestation, to say, never in fact. The Christians may call it Satan or the Hindus may call it with various names like rakhshas etc…

This particular Saturday, I have planned to visit a temple of Goddess Durga at Indrakeeladri, Vijayawada. I had to take the 0600 hrs flight and so I wanted to wake up early. I need to.

Saturday, 1100 hrs

‘Even as he was thinking about his dead wife, she suddenly appears in front of him at the window…’ and I squirmed on my seat. I was watching ‘The dragon Fly’. Even though I have seen Anurag Basu’s rip off ‘Saaya’ earlier, and I anticipated the scenes, I still couldn’t help myself.

Saturday, 1500 hrs

Everyone is seized by ‘the mouth of madness’ even as Sutter Cane’s horror works freak the shit out of Sam O Neill as well as me in this John Carpenter’s flick. This movie is also again about a seizure by a negative force which is more of a hallucination.

Saturday, 2030 hrs

I was picking up some empty DVD’s at Walden when my gaze got transfixed on the cover page of a book. It read ‘The Prayer’. I immediately turned to the flip side and started reading the premise. One line at the end caught my observation. ‘The prayer challenge – If you don’t find this book to be one of the scariest books you ever read, you can avail of our worldwide money back guarantee. Visit us at …’

‘Wow’ I thought. I am a big horror buff. I have seen many movies, gore, horror, crime etc. Few scenes did freak me out. Be it Ed Gein heaving the guy onto the U-hook and leaves him hanging and in pain in ‘Texas chainsaw massacre’ or be it the post mortem thingy in ‘Saw III’ where two doctors cut open jig-saw’s dead body or be it the demon which possesses father Karen after leaving Regan in ‘Exorcism’ or be it ‘Evil dead-I’ where the milieu amidst the screeching of the violins and the ghosts that scared the shit out of me… to name a few.

But I was never haunted in my dreams or never felt that these were so horrifying. I did squirm at particular instances, but that was out of a sudden trepidation because of an alien object or a sound. This happens even when some one suddenly jumps onto my front to scare me. Can this be called a moment of fright…. I don’t know.

Yeah… I was talking about ‘the prayer’. I picked the book and thought I can read it in tomorrow’s journey. They say curiosity killed the cat. It should be curiosity killed the man. I started to read the book the very moment I reached home.

Saturday, 2200 hrs

Pushing the book onto the table beside my bed and then pushing myself onto the bed, I pulled the quilt and started to doze off. But before that, I switched to Lord Shiva’s wallpaper on my mobile, prayed to him and set the alarm time to 0400 hrs and closed my eyes.

Before I start off with the actual horror, lemme give you an epigraph of my bedroom and the orientation of my bed. I sleep on a double cot bed with a table to my right on which I leave my laptop and an almirah to the left, when I sleep in an upright position. Towards my feet lies an opening which leads into the attached bathroom.

Sunday, 0315 hrs

I was sleeping to a side facing the almirah and my back towards the table. I really don’t know why I opened my eyes, but I felt something really strange. Even when you are sleeping, you can definitely see or feel things around you. Perhaps the subconscious mind never sleeps. A cold wave passed across me and I shivered under fright even as I woke up with a jerk.

I was unable to move, perhaps I can link it with a medical condition called sleep paralysis but my whole body shivered. I knew there was something in my room. Something super natural. I knew I had only one chance against the unseen demon. Pray. Pray to god. Even as I tried to reach for my mobile to unlock it and see the image of Lord Shiva, I was unable to move my hand. It was paralyzed and I was not able to reach for the mobile.

I was in a kinda psychic vibration for a few seconds. My whole body vibrated on the bed with me lying motionless. My brain asked me to pray. And as I was about to say the name of the Lord, my jaws were paralyzed too. ‘Sh….’ And my voice diffused into thin air even as I tried to move my hand or chant the name of the god.

My only hope left was to imagine a cross at least hoping that I would be saved. I always studied in Christian missionary schools and we used to pray to Jesus Christ every morning ‘Our father in heaven ...’. And so I wanted to imagine a cross. Moreover, it’s the easiest form of god any one can ever imagine. I always believed that the image of God itself would shun all the evil. Even as the cross was about to be framed in my mind, my mind also switched off immediately and blankness dawned upon me just like clouds eclipsing the moon.

My eyeballs began to oscillate beyond the closed eyelids and even before I had any idea as to what was happening around me, I suddenly opened the eyelids only to find that I was dreaming. My whole body was sweating under fright and my heart was thumping at almost 120 beats per sec. Perhaps this is most frightening moment ever in my life.

Sunday, 0330 hrs

Sometimes, dreams seem to look so real that they almost have you. I was almost dead for a few seconds. Heaving a sigh of relief I tried to reach for my mobile. This time with my eyes wide open. Midway in between, my hand paralyzed again. ‘No, this can’t be, you can’t let this happen to me god… Jesus… Shiva…’ and my jaws paralyzed, but for real, this time.

The entire bedroom was dark barring the light from the lamps in the adjacent house which faintly lit the room. The lights flickered for a moment and finally blacked out.

I was lying with my back towards the table and still under seize of trepidation. It was at that point of time when I saw him, the demon. In fact I haven’t seen the dark being, but I felt its presence. Yes, very close to me. A huge hand, I don’t remember how many fingers it had but I felt or saw the thumb and the index finger so huge and bulged and so yellowish with little hair and the skin peeled off at certain places, slowly move towards my back. It looked more like a huge bird’s claw.

I tried to scream and move and then I was seized again by the psychic vibration. My body began to vibrate much like my cell phone with all my muscles defying my conscious brain’s orders. The index finger and the thumb of the being which I could see approaching me from my back had black nails and that too very long. No, they are claws. It slowly touched my body and the vibration stopped suddenly nevertheless I was still paralyzed throughout.

With my back in the grip between the demon’s index finger and the thumb claws, I can feel the pressure mounting upon and so did the pain. Slowly the pressure dropped and the claws made their way to the spinal cord and started to press the bone hardly in between them.

‘God…..’ I shouted when the hand vanished into thin air even as I tried to reach for my mobile. I slowly tried to hold my mobile when a hand emerged from beneath the mattress. It was partially burnt and partially rotten as I could smell the same. A burning human body smells nauseates like an oil burning, after all the fat and the muscle gets burnt emanating a kinda highly obnoxious smell . And the hand tightened the grip on my hand that I left the mobile. My paralysis seemed to have ended and I was able to turn my head when I looked up, above me and another hand emerged from inside the bed holding onto my face and with the palm covering and fingers spread wide and holding my head onto the bed firmly.

From in between the gaps of the fingers holding my face firmly to the bed, I clearly saw with my eyes something even more frightening. There seemed to be a bulge in the wall. My eyes became big as I struggled to see what was happening and five to six beings emerged from out of the walls and walked towards me. All of them had one or two limbs missing. And the way they walked towards me, looked to me like they have come for organ replacements.

The flesh was coming off in bits and pieces as they walked towards me and their skin peeling off with slime dripping down those parts, the slime which looked greenish but with a tinge of blood red. How could I see them, I never knew, I just framed all these images in my mind. Perhaps an astral projection of myself was looking at my plight from outside my body frame.

One being slowly walked towards me dragging his body on a single feet even as the hands from beneath the bed held me onto it.

And suddenly they stopped. And the hands that firmly caught onto me retracted themselves into the bed. And these beings walked into the walls. ‘Is this over?’ I thought, when I felt a sever e pain in my lower back.

The same huge hand, which I call it the devil’s hand had its grip on my lower backbone and ‘Creak’ the bone was crushed and I cried out loud in pain even as my body wriggled under the same. For a few moments I wriggled and squirmed even as the bed creaked along on its legs and then the Demon loosened his grip when I felt a slight relief.

I was crying and crying even as I gathered some energy to walk down the bed and reach the bathroom. I wasn’t able to stand as my backbone was crushed and my legs refused to move. I was paralyzed from the spine to bottom and so I slowly crawled along the floor even as the nails dug across the marble as I tried to pull myself along the floor even as the nails made the scratching sound on the floor.

I have cried enough that tears stopped to come out the lacrimal glands. My eyes pained a lot when tears started to come again. I reached the bathroom and I slowly pulled up myself onto the wash basin with my hands. Even as I looked at the mirror, drops of blood trickled down my eye lashes and I dropped to the ground as my hands trembled and lost the grip.

‘Am I going to become one of them….’ I thought even as I dragged myself out of the bathroom and when I saw the beings come to life again, out from the walls.

Sunday, 0345 hrs

And suddenly there was the psychic vibration again and all the things that happened now slowly rewinded in front of my eyes in the reverse chronology. ‘This is too real to be a dream’ I thought even as I rushed my hand towards the mobile and unlocked it to see the image of Lord Shiva. And I held the mobile close to my heart. I knew I still had fifteen minutes to sleep.

But I dared not to. I was so freaked out. The sweat soaked my clothes wet.

‘That was a wonderful moment of fright… I am not gonna waste it, lemme pen down the same’, I thought. But I waited for 0400 hrs as my mom would wake up then and after that I wouldn’t be frightened.

I slowly held onto my mobile and started to frame the story.

Sunday, 0355 hrs

And if you are still waiting for the twist…. I give you not one… but three.

The first one, if you weren’t frightened, relive the story once again and imagine yourself to be in such a position. You would definitely squirm.

The second one, please… please… please… don’t think of this story when you go to sleep. Probably you may be haunted and hunted too. And do gimme a call, the next morning.

Sunday, 0400 hrs

And the third, I looked at the floor which bore the nail scratch marks. I slowly pulled the chair from the table and sat down when my back at the spinal cord region, hurt a lot even as I typed down, this story….

The lady with the lamp

2008-03-06T11:55:00.002+05:30

01 March, 06

‘Creak’ the door opened slowly and Arvind and his wife Aparna entered the old house in Jubilee Hills, road no. 75. ‘Sir, this is the house, a very old one. The owner is residing in US of A and he’s not planning to come to India. So he’s selling the plot at a throw away price. Four crores for 500 sq. yards’ the seller said.

‘Four crores and a giveaway price…’ Arvind smiled sarcastically. Aparna walked across the rooms and in the mean while Arvind was bargaining with the seller. ‘Appu lets go’, Arvind called his wife and they came out of the house.

‘Appu, you liked the house darling?’ Arvind said. ‘This is a very old house, I think we need to pull it down and get a new one constructed….’ Even before she finished, there was a wind which blew the dried leaves off path to the gate.

The house is in a rectangular plot of 400 sq. yards with trees all around it. The plaster came off at certain places exposing the reinforced steel. And there were cracks and blisters all around. The house was in an almost dilapidated condition as it was built some 70-80 years back.

‘We are losing on 100 sq. yards because of this narrow passageway to the 400 sq. yard area. Of course a car can pass through it, but we are paying simply for that as we wouldn't be living on that.’ Arvind told the seller.

‘Sir, according to the land rate here, you should have been buying 500 sq. yards for five crores. But the owner is considerate enough to sell it for 3.75 crores, your quoted price’

‘Arvind, what are we gonna do with that banyan tree’ Aparna pointed to a huge banyan tree at the gate. ‘Hmm… if that’s a hindrance, we’ll pull that down.’ He said even as he put his hand over her shoulder and pulled her close to him.

Nobody knew that a pair of eyes was watching them closely.

‘What’s this on the tree…’ Aparna asked Arvind. She paused for a while. ‘Looks scary..’ she said. ‘Must be that somebody wanted to bring down this tree and this looks like an axe mark’ he said.

‘Arvindddd…. Aparna screamed’, and Arvind looked at her, ’What happened?’ ‘I saw a woman sitting on the top of the tree with a lamp on her head’ she said pointing to the top. He looked in the direction of her finger and, ‘Ha ha.. that’s a street lamp darling… how many times have I told you not to read those Stephen King’s novels.’ And they started to move across.

‘It’s a deal, we are getting the house. I will contact my engineer and contractor, and they will decide whether we need to pull down the house or not’ Arvind told the seller and they got into their car even as Aparna looked at the tree. She did see something. ‘Was it my illusion?’ she thought and they left the place.

‘We’ll start moving into the house a week afterwards’ Arvind told his wife.

07 March, 05

A lorry slowly pulled over near to the house and Ramu and Somu alighted from the lorry and started to move the packed items one by one into the house. ‘Sir and madam would be joining us the following week, and so we are supposed to take care of this place well’ Somu said and Ramu nodded.

They have reached at dusk and it’s almost dawn before they moved the items into the house. ‘Bhoomika has cleaned the place very well, by the way where is she’ Ramu had a question mark on his face. ‘I don’t know’ was the prompt answer from Somu. And both of them rested their backs against a wall after the hard day’s work.

Just then he heard the sound of an anklet and turned towards the direction of the sound. And then there was a fait laugh. ‘Ramu, I am frightened of ghosts…’ Somu said even as he approached Ramu and grabbed his hand under fright. ‘I don’t believe in ghosts, that must be Bhoomika’ he said. Somu seemed to have heard a distinct laugh and he squirmed under fright.

‘Anyways call the master and inform that we are done with the stuff Somu’ Ramu said looking at him. ‘Ramu, where are you…?’ he shouted but he wasn’t seen anywhere.

08 March, 06

Arvind stretched his hands as he woke up, when his mobile started to ring. ‘What….’ Arvind screamed even as he rushed to the house at road no.75 in his car. ‘Sir, we found this body during our routine patrolling and on his mobile, yours was the last dialed number. So we called you up’ the police officer said even as he removed the cloth off the face of the dead man.

‘Yes, that’s him’ Arvind confirmed. ‘How did he die?’ Arvind asked the officer. ‘We don’t know sir…. He was killed brutally by somebody….’ He said, even as Arvind looked at the tree.

‘Can I see the body?’ Arvind said as he approached the body lying on the ground covered entirely with a white cloth. The officer pulled out the white cloth and what Arvind saw freaked him out and he trembled in fear.

The body of the man was lying down ahead of him. Till the chest part it was intact and below that, the abdominal part was forced open and all the organs including the intestines, liver and spleen, stomach were strewn apart as if some wild animal has preyed on his abdomen. There was blood everywhere. Perhaps he was under attack when he ran away from the place before he was hunted down and mauled.

The enviroment was so nauseating that he ran away from the place vomiting. ‘Are you fine sir’, the policeman asked Arvind. ‘Yes…. very much…’

14 March, 05

An old Contessa slowly stopped before the house. He parked the car beyond the gate and got down from it. He looked behind and there was no one else but the tree. He slowly proceeded to walk to the rear of his car and opened the hood. He slowly started to drag a body which was carefully wrapped in a polythene cover and he started to drag it along to the garden in front of his house.

‘I am sorry but this had to be done darling and the reason.....' he started to dig a pit in his garden. And he slowly lowered the body into the pit. Afterwards he filled the pit with the dugout soil and then placed the lawn slabs on the soil so that nobody would doubt that something was buried there.

Rubbing the sweat off his forehead, he looked at the gate and his eyes caught something unfamiliar. There was a light on the banyan tree. And it looked like a lamp. He went a little closer it before the intensity went on reducing before becoming 0.

He slowly opened the house and went into his living room, opened a wine bottle and started to drink. Within a few minutes he lay on his chair with the bottle in his hand and his hand off the chair.

15 March, 06

‘Mr. Arvind… Arvind….’ There was a commotion at the door. ‘Please open the door, you are arrested for killing your wife in cold blood’ a policeman was standing at the door even as Arvind opened the door. ‘Following a tip-off from your servant’ we reached your home and found the body in your garden.

Arvind was shell shocked. He dint know what to say. And his legs trembled under fear. Even as he reached outside the door, he saw the body of his wife lying outside in the garden and he rushed to the body falling onto it and started to cry.

‘Aparna… who has done this to you… why did you leave me and go….?’ even before the police pulled him away from the place.

It was a shock for the police too, as it was one of the most brutal murders ever seen. Her body was ripped apart at the abdominal part and she lay with her hands inside the ripped open part. All her organs were strewn all over the polythene cover in which she was supposedly wrapped and buried into the ground.

‘I killed my wife, I admit to that fact, but I haven’t killed her so brutally. I strangulated her with a piece of wire… ‘Arvind cried. ‘Anything you have to say, you can say it in the court of law’ and they whisked him away.

20 March, 05

‘You will be produced in the court of law tomorrow’ said the policeman looking at his cell from behind the bars.

‘He’s drawn something all over the walls sir…’ the constable rushed to the officer and described him what he’s seen. ‘He’s drawn the images of earthen lamps all over the walls….’ The officer was surprised.

‘Can I meet my client, here I have orders’ a man approached the officer, ‘here’s the warrant from the court’ he said. And the officer looked at the papers and nodded to the constable who led the lawyer to the cell.

‘Hi sir, how are you?’ the lawyer asked him. ‘I have a strong evidence now, perhaps I can prove that you are innocent too..’ the lawyer said even as he looked at the walls around him filled with the images of the earthen lamp. He slowly pulled out a camera and clicked few snaps, and started to walk back.

21 March, 06

‘Your Honour, this man killed is wife brutally in cold blood and we have submitted the conclusive evidence as well as circumstantial. We await you to pronounce death punishment to him, on account of him brutally killing his wife’ and the prosecution lawyer bowed to the judge after his arguments and reached his place.

‘You Honour, my client is suffering with split personality disorder…’ The defense lawyer said even when the prosecution lawyer intervened, ‘objection your Honour, the defense council is trying to mislead the court and save a convict by roping in some medical jargon…’

‘No your Honour, this is the twist to the case. Only then I can prove that my client is innocent…’ the defense lawyer said.

‘Objection overruled..’

‘Thanks your Honour…’ and the defense lawyer continued, ‘01 March, 2005, a family moved into the house just like how the Arvind’s have moved exactly an year later.’

‘There were a series of paranormal phenomenon occurring at the house which contemplated the husband to kill his wife. The wife was killed in the same pattern as Aparna as you can see from the following photos’ he said as he passed on the photos to the Judge.

‘The husband was convicted of first degree murder and he was sent to the jail, where he killed himself under the similar pattern, his wife and Aparna were killed. Arvind entered the house on day 1 and went to the dead convict’s room. He was influenced very much by the writings on the walls, which you see in this next photograph. He came under his influence. He identified himself as the dead convict. And henceforth perpetuated to this bloodshed.’

‘If you look at these pictures, he’s drawn the images of an earthen lamp in his cell, even when he had no idea about the dead husband. These were the photos shot in the cell of the dead husband which bear similar coincidence to those drawn by Arvind’
There was absolute silence in the court hall even as the defense council put forward these interesting facts and they awaited the judgment.

‘On the basis of the facts provided by the defense lawyer, this turned out to be a more complicated case that what we had thought. I however direct the police to admit the convict in a mental asylum where he would be treated for his condition. And since the murder wasn’t committed under pure knowledge or senses by the client, the case stands dismissed for the time being until his condition is confirmed by a psychiatrist. And kudos to the defense council for bringing out these facts…’ he said.

30 March, 06

‘Arvind’s condition just worsened day to day and he was more involved with drawing the earthen lamp everywhere. Everywhere on the walls, floor and even his body… perhaps his condition is becoming worse..’ the doctor noted and forwarded the proceedings to the court.

‘Wonderful Arvind, superb acting, and the court has acquitted you of the crime, you just need to act for some more time and you can be out of this asylum too, very soon…’ the defense lawyer visited Arvind after the judgment was pronounced.

14 April, 05

‘Have you forgotten me so soon, dear…’ a voice echoed from the walls. ‘What is it.. who are you..’ he shouted.. ‘you haven’t recognized me… you swore to be with me in life and death.. the voice said..’ and he started to shout loudly but in vain. The walls seemed to dissolve his cries and the next day he was found dead with his abdomen ripped apart and the blood drenched intestines and liver strewn apart all over the place.

15 April, 06

Arvind was found dead in the prison room with his abdomen ripped apart and his internal organs strewn all over. ‘It is pretty obvious that Arvind killed himself with his madness still not being cured. These blood marks on his finger nails prove the same..’ was the preliminary report of the duty doctor at the asylum.

‘And there was an earthen lamp behind his head even as his body lay cold and dead on the floor....’ where did this earthen lamp come from....’ he was puzzled.

14 April, 06

At road no. 75, a woman slowly walked towards the house and reached the gate. Blood was dripping from her body that trickled down her sharp teeth. Her finger nails were long and they looked like claws. They were dripping blood too. She slowly moved the earthen lamp onto her head which was filled with blood. She looked at the banyan tree and slowly climbed onto the tree....

14 March, 06...... 07 March, 06...... 14 April, 05....... 14 March, 05........ 07 March, 05.........

And there was an earthen lamp.........

The bathroom

2008-02-26T12:16:00.000+05:30

In the bathroom, when I close my eyes, and when the droplets of water splash my face, I can see in my mind a woman with a knife waiting to slash my back. I suddenly open my eyes and I see that it’s the fear within me.

‘Claustrophobia is the fear of confinement to places. Even seasoned horror movie buffs’ nightmares come true when they are confined to the four walls of a room…’, said professor Nick Masson when everybody in the class started discussing.

‘I agree with you prof. My worst fears are when I park my car in the garage’ some one said. ‘Mine when I am alone in the house’, some one else added and yet another said, ‘mine when I am sleeping alone in my bedroom and the power goes off…’

Prof. Nick Masson was a psychiatrist at the national college institute for psychological and criminal sciences. Masson was delivering a lecture on ‘fear of confinement to closed spaces’. ‘….and mine when I am in the bathroom…’ Jamie told herself and a chill ran down her spine and she shivered under fright.

‘I have my own reasons to be frightened of a bathroom. A friend of mine was murdered in cold blood under mysterious circumstances in a bathroom, the previous day. It was rumoured that she killed herself under her own fear’

Jamie and Megan have been friends for more than three years, in fact, very good friends. They confided in each other their worst fears. Megan was claustrophobic. She always felt some one was gonna kill her when she was in an enclosed room. The previous night, Megan was alone in her apartment when she heard a sound in her bathroom. She immediately called up Jamie and said, ‘I am having a problem. Somebody’s there in my bathroom….’ And even before she could continue the call hung up. Jamie called 911 and reached Megan’s apartment.

The whole place was dark when Jamie reached the place. She stumbled upon something and fell down. She woke up and reached for the lights, and looked around for the object that stumbled her down. She couldn’t find any.

‘Eeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww…….’

She shouted under fright when she saw a palm sliding down the glass walls of the bathroom and she reached for it when she saw Megan lying down in a pool of blood.

Police reports later, confirmed that Megan slipped down in her bathroom and died when her skull hit against a sharp edge fracturing the posterior part of the skull and causing a hemorrhage in her medulla oblongata.

Jamie wasn’t convinced of these reports. She knew that some one was there in Megan’s apartment and that Megan called her. Also she stumbled upon what seemed to her to be Megan’s killer.

Jamie could vaguely hear the professor say, ‘Tomorrow, we’ll discuss about….’ when she was still thinking about her murdered friend. The only clue she has to Megan’s murders is that she is claustrophobic and today the prof’s taken a lesson on claustrophobia. After the class Jamie left to her room. She immediately changed into some loose clothes and fell back on the bed and started to read Robert Bloch’s ‘Psycho’. Just as Marion Crane undressed herself and opened the shower, Norman Bates attacks her with a knife before slashing and stabbing her multiple times.

Suddenly there was a sound in her bathroom. Jamie turned towards the direction of the sound and slowly pulled out the butcher’s knife which she always kept near her bed for safety. Now she was damn sure that somebody was there in the bathroom.

Jamie closed the book and stepped down from the bed and walked towards the bathroom. ‘Yes, I am claustrophobic and yes, I am frightened to take a bath, but …..’ the words spoken by Megan rang in her ears again and again. She slowly opened the door by turning the knob and peeped inside.

‘Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww……..’ she shouted and ran back onto her bed when she saw hundreds of bugs, black in colour emerging out of her western toilet. The bugs were emanating like water from a burst pipeline when Megan fell back on her body. Regaining senses in a fraction of minute she looked towards the bathroom and it was all clear once again. ‘I think I have been thinking too much about Megan’s death’ she thought.

‘I need to have a refreshing bath’ and untying the knot of her dress which slowly slid down her curvy body and she looked at the mirror praising herself as she turned back and forth looking at her image in the mirror.

Suddenly her heart started to beat faster and she began to pant under fright when she saw a man in black clothes behind her holding a knife. Moving her hands over her naked parts she turned back and there was no one. ‘Why am I thinking much about Megan’s death….’ She thought.

She then opened the tap and drop by drop, lukewarm water started to shower upon her, wetting her skin and the bathroom was filled with the hot vapours within a few minutes. She turned off the shower and reached for the soap and closed her eyes when she applied it over her face. And then she reopened the shower as the soap washed away from her body.

She slowly opened her eyes and was aghast to see blood being sprayed from the shower. She hollered for a minute and ran out of the bathroom. ‘Something’s really wrong’ she thought even as she slowly picked up the knife in her hands which were still trembling under fright.

After a minute she told herself, ‘Chill… nothing’s gonna happen.. no one’s around..’ when she walked towards the bathroom and opened it to see that there’s no blood. ‘Again, my figment of imagination’ she thought.

‘Ding dong…’ her door bell rang when she realized that she was still running around naked. Wrapping herself in a towel she reached the door and shouted ‘Who’s that’ when she looked out of the keyhole and saw Megan standing at her door. ‘Meg….nnn…. she’s dead… where did she come from….’ She muttered to herself and ran away from the door before she tripped over the bed and fell onto it.

Now she clearly saw Megan in the bathroom without any clothes. Even as Megan applied soap onto her body, she stopped for a while and looked towards Jamie and slowly walked out of the door even as Jamie kept on shouting. Megan walked towards the door and opened it. And Jamie saw a woman coming into the room after which Megan bolted the door from behind. Jamie followed her with the knife still in her hand.

The woman followed naked Megan into the bathroom when she stood there while Megan was having her bath. Suddenly the woman rushed towards Megan and held her hair in her hands and she pulled Megan’s leg with her leg and hit Megan hardly against a sharp edge in her bathroom. And the woman ran her finger over Megan’s nose, perhaps to see whether she’s still breathing or not. And then she left the bathroom adjusting her Rolex watch and then the visions vanished. Jamie was flabbergasted by these hallucinations.

Jamie looked at her wrist and saw the Rolex watch she was wearing. She dropped the knife at the bathroom door and cried ‘I killed Megan, myself…’ she kneeled onto the ground and started to cry hiding her face behind her palms.

‘Probably my hallucination… I could have never killed Megan’ she thought as she turned away before her eye caught something weird, a palm mark on the vapour condensed glass doors and she shivered under fright. ‘The knife…’ she thought, ‘I dropped it at the door. ‘Now where is it…’ and she slowly pushed the door open still kneeling on the ground.

She entered the bathroom and her pupils dilated to see beyond the vapours and she switched on the exhaust fan to clear the vapours off the room. As she was about to step out, she felt a hand reach for me. It looked more like a female hand and it slowly tickled her back. A chill ran down her spine and she jumped in fright even as the towel got unwrapped and she rushed out of the bathroom into the living hall and started to look around frantically searching for any object to defend myself.

Jamie was shouting in fear. This time it wasn’t any hallucination. She ‘felt’ a hand tickle her back.

She pulled out the lamp stand and made it slowly to the bathroom. The vapours were cleared off and could find no one in the room. With a sigh of relief she turned back when a hand pulled her back by closing her mouth. And it dragged her into the bathroom by holding her hair. Jamie turned to look behind but she could only see the gleam of the knife. The hand slowly closed onto her and she felt a stinging pain in her back.

The knife slashed across her back and blood spurted out from the open wound. The knife dug deep into her spinal cord and the limbs were almost dead even as she wriggled under pain. Jamie found it almost difficult to breath as she was bleeding very heavily. With her face lying on the floor which was filled with blood, she was close to death.

A few hours later, police were at Jamie’s apartment.

With a slash across her back till the thigh part, Jamie was found dead in a puddle of blood. The police were shocked to find the fifth such murder in the recent days. They searched for circumstantial evidence when they found something far more worthy and gruesome, they would have never expected.

Inside the fridge of Jamie’s apartment was a stuffed body of a girl slit from toe to back on the posterior. Under her bed was another body murdered under similar circumstances and wrapped neatly in a polythene cover. The over head tank was inspected and there was a dead body of another girl too.

‘I think we have unraveled the murderous crimes of the serial killer who terrorized these surroundings, finally’ detective Ramses heaved a sigh of relief. ‘The serial killer is no one other than Jamie Fox, who was suffering with a rare brain disorder. She had both her hemispheres separated to cure her of epilepsy and she was under some neurological stress which perpetuated her to murder four innocent girls before she killed herself out of the same trauma or something else….’ He told the press when they were taking photos of Jamie lying naked and dead holding a knife, partly covered with blood and still gleaming under the light, in one hand and a few strands of hair in the other.

The next day Nick Masson was taking a session. ‘As I told the previous day, today we’ll be discussing about the Alien Hand Syndrome or Dr. Strangelove syndrome. People suffering with this disorder feel that one of their limbs has a brain of its own and his or her brain cannot control it. This normally happens when both the hemispheres of the brain are separated as a treatment for epilepsy….’ She finished her session even as she checked the time and adjusted her Rolex watch….

The voices of the dark

2008-02-21T15:43:00.003+05:30

The vile vortices twelve are areas distributed around the globe that are alleged to have the same qualities as claimed for Bermuda triangle. These form the vertices of an icosahedron. Five of them are on a latitude near tropic of cancer including the devil’s triangle or the Bermuda triangle, five of them near tropic of Capricorn and one each at either of the poles.

‘She’s the most beautiful girl I have ever seen and I instantly fell in love with her’, I told my friends. Mike said, ‘She is virtuous, beautiful, well-educated and the list never ends. It’s very imperative that you have fallen in love with her. But what quality should she see in you to reciprocate your love?’

‘Hmm… my heart which is brimming with her love…’

‘Sam… man….’ He said even as he came close to me, ‘Sam….’ and he had tears in his eyes.

‘… Heart wrenching….’ He said even as he made the gestures with his hand and the others burst laughing. I flung the beer tin onto him. ‘Have I ever told u that you are a rogue, Mike’, I continued. ‘Have I ever told you that you are just like me, dearest pal’ he replied and I ran behind him into the house. The other friends followed us.

‘Do sleep soon, you should be robbing her of her peace by following her from tomorrow… right…’ he said. ‘You dog…’ I barked… I mean, I shouted hitting him with the pillow. And I lay down on the bed looking at the ceiling.

‘Man, I love her so much…’ I said.

‘118….’, he said. ‘What?’, I looked at him when he said ,’This is the 118th time you are repeating the same thing…’

‘Huh… what will you understand about love… look at those stars… and look at her face, I mean the moon. Aren’t the starts singing in her praise…’ I said. ‘I don’t see anything other than the rotating fan and the ceiling…’ he said with a wide grin on his face. ‘Phew…’ I thought and I closed my eyes.

It’s around 12 ‘O clock in night when I heard few voices.

‘Sam… wake up… wake up… Sam… Sam…’, even as I tried to close my ears ignoring them.

The next morning, I woke up with a jerk when Mike was holding my hand. ‘Mike, did you hear any voices in the dark?’ I asked him. Mike’s face suddenly turned blank as if he were frightened. ‘Yes… I couldn’t sleep properly for a while and when I heard the marble tile beneath the bed we slept being moved slowly. I looked beneath the bed when I saw a hand, half rotten push the marble tile aside and emerge out from below. It slowly came and stood beside the bed even as I pretended to be asleep and all of sudden it came close to me and the rotting body slowly lay itself along me…’

‘And then, what happened..’ I was inquisitive.

‘Then.. then… today morning I saw you lying on me….’ And he started to laugh.

‘Man, this Mike is a big joker…’ I told myself.

‘And Camilla, this is Mike about whom I have been saying’, I introduced Mike to Camilla, on the day of my wedding. ‘If the bridegroom can dedicate some time to me, I can go on with the wedding’ the church priest said. ‘Sam is so talkative that we, others are seldom given any chance to speak’, Mike said.

And then me and my dream princess Camilla started to walk towards the priest with both our clasped hands.

‘In the name of God the couple holding each other's right hand take the oath of life-long loyalty to each other’ the priest solemnized.

And we exchanged our rings when the priest said, ‘You may kiss the bride’ even as I proceeded towards Camilla and locker her lips with mine. As I closed my eyes, I suddenly heard the voices again. ‘Sam…. Sam…. We are waiting…. Sam….’ and I suddenly opened my eyes pushing her off.

Everyone in the church was perplexed and I apologized for my behavior and we started to walk away from the church.

Ever since I married Camilla, every night I used to hear those voices. I would wake up all of a sudden in the night much to the discontent of my wife. Slowly I lost interest in my love life, and I started to lose interest in her. I consulted a psychiatrist on her advice.

‘You may be suffering with oneirophobia or the fear of dreams. Perhaps a change in the environment will get you back to normal’, he said and prescribed few medicines.

‘Camilla darling, we are moving out of Hyderabad on a very long holiday’, I said even as she jumped onto me and hugged me. ‘Where are the tickets, where are we going’ she inquired like a baby. ‘We are moving to Aruku valley tomorrow and we are going by road’ I said and she was so damn happy when she locked her lips with mine. Romanticism was in the air for a while with the atmosphere in here getting hot.

I closed my eyes gripping her tightly and close to me when I heard the same voices again.

‘Sam… Sam…’

And I pushed her onto the ground shouting, ‘what do you want from me, what have I done to you, who is this first of all….’ And falling to the ground on my knees and hiding my face behind my palms I started to cry. Camilla came slowly from behind and put her hand on my shoulder, ‘Don’t worry Sam, you will be fine soon. Perhaps you need a change in the environment.’ And I nodded in affirmation, taking her close to me by laying my hands over her waist and kissed on her forehead.

‘Vroom….’ My Scorpio left the house leaving a trail of dust behind which slowly settled down. Within an hour we were already cruising on the highway.

The sun slowly started to rise in the east beyond the hills with a tinge of orangeness at the horizon even as few birds fluttered beyond us in the direction of the orange sun. A cold wind lashed across my face when I felt a hand clutching me. ‘Sam… Sam…again I heard the voices…’ when the loud blare of honking of an incoming truck brought me back to my senses when I found my Scorpio on a head on collision track with the truck. Pulling the steering wheel to the left, the MUV swerved to the left in the nick of time preventing the head on impact and thus saving us.

‘Sam… what is wrong with you…’ Camilla asked me clutching my hand. ‘No, nothing….’ I said. ‘Please don’t think about those voices…. You will be fine…’ she assured me and I nodded.

We drove for almost two hundred miles before I was totally exhausted. ‘I need to rest for a while’ I told her handing the wheel to her and I slept for a while on the non-driver’s seat. I had no idea for how long I slept before I suddenly woke up to a jerk. Camilla stopped the Scorpio with a jerk. And I looked at her with my eyes opening slowly, still half asleep.

The half of the face which I was looking at was rotten, in fact rotting with insects coming out of the eye sockets and I looked at her hand which was rotten too. I suddenly started to feel a kind of pungent smell when I realized that it was that of a rotting carcass and I shouted in fright when she looked at me.

‘Sam… Sam…’ I heard the voices again, but this time, it’s Camilla who woke me up. And I looked at her moving my hands over her hands and face. It was all fine. Did I have a nightmare again? I was confused.

‘What happened?’ she asked, to which I replied, ‘nothing. What’s wrong with the traffic?’

‘Seems that there’s an accident on the highway and so the traffic has come to a standstill. We can take a route along this way’ she said, showing me a muddy route perpendicular to the highway. ‘We can reach a parallel road and then move across the road for a distance of about 40 Km when we’ll join the highway once again’, she continued and I nodded.

‘Hey, just a minute, you have never been to this place before and yet you were talking about the routes as if you know this place very well’, I asked angrily. She didn’t answer. I asked the same question once again. She suddenly turned to my side and grinned, but there was no answer.

And she maneuvered the MUV towards the country road and started to drive along. The sun dawned beyond the mountains and she continued to drive till it was dark. Other than the luminosity from the headlights of my vehicle not a single source of light was present on this dark stretch of the road.

And suddenly my vehicle started to jerk before coming to a complete halt.

‘What’s wrong’ I turned to her. ‘The engine’s over heated I guess, it’s not responding properly’ she said and asked me to look into it. I opened the door and walked to the front asking her to pull the bonnet latch and I opened the bonnet. ‘Yes, the cars’ over heated, where’s the water’ I shouted from behind the hood.

‘It’s in the rear’ she replied when I walked towards the rear and opened the door. What I saw gave me the scare of my life and I fell prone on my back and started to crawl back in fright still lying on my hands and my buttocks kissing the ground.

‘What happened, Sam?’ Camilla shouted even as she opened the door. From the rear door a dark silhouette slowly emerged after putting its feet onto the ground and its upper half hidden behind the door. The pants were tattered and it whispered ‘Sam… Sam… I have come for you… Sam…’ and I started to run away in fright before I heard a voice calling out my name.

I heard that voice somewhere before, I thought and I looked back. ‘What the hell are you doing inside my car, Mike…?’ I shouted at him walking towards him angrily. ‘You will pay for this’ I said fisting my hand and punched it on his abdomen. He wriggled under pain for a while before Camilla came from my behind and prevented me from hurting him more.

‘So, both of you resorted to this dirty trick on me’, I shouted at them in full fury. There was silence for a long time before Camilla came close to me, ‘I can explain’ even as I was reluctant, she continued, ‘I asked Mike to accompany us, cos’ you weren’t well. If something happens to you in between I can’t alone handle you…’

Wiping a tear off her face, I looked towards Mike. ‘Why the hell are your pants tattered, that scared the shit out of me?’ He replied, ‘latest fashion’ and my face turned red in anger. ‘Latest what… I will see that you repay for this, Mike’ even as we proceeded to walk to the car and resumed our journey.

It was 10 ‘O clock at night when Mike suggested that we should rest tonight at a motel nearby. We found two rooms, one for me and my wife and the other for Mike. ‘We’ll start tomorrow morning’ I said even as Mike wished us ‘Good night’ before retiring to his room.

It was perhaps in many nights that I had slept without much difficulty. It was around 1 ‘O clock at night when I was awakened by a sound from the outside when I reached to the window and looked around. The whole place was deserted except for a few dried leaves that were blown away by a slight gust of wind. I reached for a glass of water and then returned to the window looking out.

The clouds silently moved under the moon and the trees swayed often to the occasional wind from across the vast plain lands. As I was about to return to sleep, a silhouette caught my attention. I saw a man moving across the road and he turned back to look at the motel. In the dimly lit night, I still managed to see his face. It was almost rotten and his eyes were blank devoid of the pupils. And he smiled at me, with slime dripping down his canines which were also big. I slowly rushed to the door to wake Mike. I reached his room only to find that the door was already open and he isn’t there in the room. I immediately reached to my room to find Camilla also missing. I started to shout and I fell down on my knees hiding my face behind the palms. Suddenly I felt a hand fall on my shoulder when I squirmed in fright looking behind.

‘Sam, where have you gone, me and Mike are worried’ Camilla said as Mike emerged from her behind. ‘No where….’, I said in a low tone and got back to my bed to lay asleep.

‘Sam, we are in one of the vile vortices twelve which pass through India below the tropic of cancer, and perhaps that’s the reason for your restlessness. Highly sensitive people are more prone to such delusions…’ even before Mike could complete I turned my back to him.

‘Something is happening and I don’t know what… First of all I need some peace and good sleep before I can solve what is happening around me…’ I thought and I slept.

The next morning I woke up again with a jerk. ‘Was it a bad dream or ….’ And I rushed towards Mike’s room. He’s no where around. I woke up Camilla and explained what I’ve seen the previous night and continued, ‘Mike is the man whom I saw at night. That tattered pants is a clear evidence’

‘Mike is missing right now…’

‘Let’s wait for him till today evening and then we’ll lodge a complaint that he’s missing if he doesn’t return’, she said even as she stripped down her clothes and slipped into a towel, moving into the bathroom.

I opened my pack of cigarettes even as I walked across the room restlessly. After a few minutes, the shower sound stopped and she emerged from the bathroom with the towel so low that I could see her bust line. I closed onto her and pushed her against the wall moving my hands across her body. But my excitement dint last for a long time. I felt something rough when I looked down and I saw her peeling off her skin and her flesh rot with a bad stink and I pushed her off onto the bed.

‘Now, what’s wrong with you again’, she was freaked out and changed into her usual attire.

It was almost dark in the evening and we waited for a long time for Mike. We were sure that he’s not gonna turn up and we decided to lodge a complaint.

‘The nearest police station is 50 miles away and that too you have to drive along the poor country roads to reach that place. It would be better if you could report the same at the police headquarters of this district 200 miles away from here’

‘We’ll do that’, I said even as Camilla looked at me and grinned. She knew I was frightened to take the country road. And we checked out of the room and reached to the Scorpio.

‘Camilla, I prefer to drive’, I said snatching the keys from her and reaching to the driver’s seat. I turned on the ignition and reversed the vehicle before moving along. We needed to go for another 30 miles before reaching the highway once again.

After driving for more than an hour, I still could see no signs of the highway. ‘Hey, are you sure that we would reach the highway in a few miles like what you said today morning?’ I asked.

She suddenly turned to my side with her eyes wide open and paused for a while. ‘NO’ she said. ‘Man, you don’t talk to me like that. Already I am not able to understand what’s happening to me here’

She smiled and moved her body towards me and leaned her head against my shoulder. ‘It will be a problem when I am shifting gears’ I told her. ‘I don’t mind… I love you…’ she said and I suddenly jumped in fright when a loud blare made me look towards the road. It was a truck missing our car by a few inches and he was honking.

‘Phew, that was close’ I thought, ‘nevertheless we reached the highway’ and I pushed in the CD playing some music.

After driving for another hour, I looked at my watch to check the time. 12 O’ clock. ‘God… ‘ I thought when I heard a bursting sound and my car swerved to the left. ‘Oh shit, not here, not now..’ I thought

‘What happened’, asked Camilla. ‘We are running on a flat tyre’, I replied. Turning off the headlights to save the battery, I got down from my vehicle and removed the spare tyre and rolled it across to the front. The whole place was pitch black and so I placed a torch across and started to unbolt the nuts from the wheel.

Camilla alighted down the vehicle and started to stray across. ‘No Camilla, don’t go into the dark’ I said and suddenly I heard the voices again. This time they were very lucidly clear. And they were not whispering my name, but they were calling out ‘Camilla… Camilla… come closer…’

And I gripped the hydraulic jack in my hand and went closer to Camilla. ‘What are you gonna do?’ she looked at me with an air of apprehensiveness and I said ‘protecting you’ even as I closed onto her and grabbed her by her hand. ‘Let’s get out from here…’ I said.

‘Sam… leave her… Camilla come along….’ And the voices were even clearer this time as if they were very close to us. I looked around in the dark. I couldn’t see a thing beyond a few feet and I turned in all directions with the jack still in my hand.

‘Camilla’, I shouted, ‘Close your ears and don’t heed to the voices and stay behind’ but Camilla was in a state of trance.

‘No you come along with me’, Camilla gripped my hand and started to pull me into the cover of darkness. The voices became even more clearer and I first tried to drag her back, but she’s too strong for that and so I tried to loosen her grip and freed myself pushing her away and reached to the car. And immediately reached to the dashboard switching on the lights, and I couldn’t hear the voices any more.

I stood there looking for Camilla for around half an hour when the lights slowly started to fade out with the battery being discharged at an alarming rate and the voices called out my name again.

Still holding the jack in my hand, I started to run away from the place till I was exhausted. I ran for approximately 2 Km before I fell to the ground on my knees crying out loud and shouting, ‘Please save me god…’

‘Sam… there is no escape… this is the call of darkness… and you have to give in to it…’ I heard the voices call again. And I closed my ears with my fingers.

Suddenly I felt a hand fall on my shoulder and I looked around in fright.

‘Thank God, it’s you Mike… where were you… what’s happening here… where’s Camilla…’ even before I could finish questioning him, Camilla walked from behind Mike and whispered, ‘you have taken an oath of lifelong loyalty to me… come along…’ and her skin started to peel off exposing her rotting flesh. I turned to Mike and he was also rotting. I tried to get onto my feet and push along when I felt my feet could no longer sustain the weight of my body and I looked down only to find that I also started to rot.

The next morning police have launched a massive manhunt to find three missing persons and a TV reporter was saying this news, ‘The disappearances in this part of the country still continues with three more people disappearing last night and skeptics attribute this to the vile vortices twelve….'

Me justified - chronicles of a serial killer

2008-02-20T13:19:00.001+05:30

One in every three children is a victim of abuse, directly or indirectly. Every man is born good until circumstances awake the monster inside him.

Born on 6th of July, 1976 in an affluent family to Sir Trevor and Lady Catherine Trevor, I borrowed the first name from my mother and was christened Catherine Dunstan. ‘Dunce’ as every one called me, I grew up happily in the loving care of my dad and mom. But as destiny would go, the Pandora’s Box was opened once and for all before life took a sharp turn.

I was around three years old when Sir Trevor, I wouldn’t prefer calling him my dad, was addicted to drinking and my mom was always suspicious of him having an illicit affair with few other women. Squabbles crept in which slowly turned into bigger quarrels.

Either of them would start abusing each other till they ran out of words or energy. Occasionally the milieu turns tranquil after they see me crying when one of them would come and pick me up and lull me back to sleep, and then the volcano would erupt once again.

This happened every day and every night. After every such fight even when they lay me asleep, I would suffer from bouts of insomnia, and toss and turn on the bed crying and praying god that they should never quarrel and peace should return. But my prayers were never answered for a long time.

I was later admitted to the kindergarten but I showed no interest towards studies. With other children of my age, I never interacted. My teachers marked me as an introvert. My classmates often made fun of me. They called me names and teased me till the point I burst into tears and me fleeing away from the place, pushing them aside. Hatred towards my fellow beings slowly started to buildup.

I was too small to show my anger on them and so I started to bite my nails in fury. I started to hurt myself by hitting hard onto the wall and scratching my hands off the rough surfaces. I found more peace when I was all alone but I hurt myself the most then.

My teacher referred me to a psychiatrist and later they informed my parents. If my behavior isn’t arrested and corrected now, I would grow up as a psychologically challenged human being and that I have already started showing the symptoms.

That night also my parents fought, but for a different reason. Each of them started the blame game until it belched into a brawl. For the first time he slapped my mom and she started to cry. I was standing at the door with my little hands on the table near the door even as a drop of tear cascaded down my chubby cheek.

But when they saw me hold a butcher’s knife and they rushed towards me under the fright that I would hurt myself.

The next day police were at my home investigating the double murders of Sir Trevor and Lady Catherine Trevor. I was only six years old, too small to be suspected. The only circumstantial evidence, a butcher’s knife was never recovered.

And I was on a killing spree since then. I grew up into a beautiful nymph. Police always suspected a man to be behind those serial killings.

San Andreas… Trevor square… Birmingham road… Wellington Street…

January… March… April… August….

1980… 1982… 1983…

I always chose my victims at random. I always slashed the victims or shot them down when they were in seclusion. And my victims always happened to be couples in love. If you are in love or you married and having problems with your spouse, then you are my next victim. For more than 6 years I terrorized suburbs of Mexican cities with my killings throughout. More than 78 couples were killed in one of the worst serial killings that ever happened in the history of Mexico.

For four years there were no more victims, no more killings and left the police perplexed. They thought that the pattern ended.

Four years back, I found a real soul mate, a lovely and a wonderful husband he is, he took so much care of me. I finally thanked god for answering my prayers. Whatever love I have lost since my childhood I found it here.

My blood drenched hands were brimming with so much love that I couldn’t hold a gun or a knife to continue my killing spree. And this was the reason why the pattern ended. I knew god would never absolve my sins but at least I wanted to be happy as long as I lived.

And we were blessed with a two year old baby girl. Life passed on day by day and month by month, when we both altercated over petty issues. My husband was a good man though and he would pour water onto the heated pan, cooling it down immediately. But my past experiences have taught me something else.

The monster in me which was dormant for so many years seemed to surface once again.

A year later, he saw me with a male friend of mine and questioned me under suspicion, right in front of him. Unable to bear the humiliation I rushed to into the room locking the door and started to cry. He was banging the door and shouting at me to open it.

‘I wouldn’t allow my kid also to undergo the same pain as me’, I thought and I opened the drawer after unlocking it and pulled out the butcher’s knife which still bore the stains of coagulated blood.

‘Cluck’ the blot came down and I walked towards the hall gripping the knife in my hand. Even as I approached my husband, he was lying down on the floor with blood trickling down his slashed throat and I looked around in fright when I saw my three year old daughter walk towards me with a knife in her hand and blood dripping down it….

The tow-man

2008-02-19T11:03:00.001+05:30

My obsession with serial killers’ continues in this thriller once again…

‘Fourteen girls have been killed in the last few months and we suspect a stout man behind these killings. Young ladies are expected to stay indoors at night…’ when I changed the radio frequency to play Savage Garden’s ‘I’ve been having difficulties keep to myself… feelings and emotions better when left upon the shelf…’ even as I crooned along.

I was driving across the old Mexican route no. 57. I had to cross the woods to reach to the other side of the country where the roads are pretty good. It was dark in the night and all of a sudden there was a downpour. I just reached a toll gate on the highway.
‘Ma’am, if you are driving through the woods, I would suggest you to rest tonight in the motel over there, as there are muddy swamps across the way. It’s possible that your car might get stuck in that’ said a man at the toll gate. And I looked around at the motel and then looked at my watch. It was 19:45 hrs.

‘Those two people have stopped for the night’, he said pointing to a stout man in front of his towing truck and another guy walking towards the motel after parking his car. I was a bit apprehensive about the stout man and so I decided not to stay. I thanked the man at the toll gate for his word of caution and started to drive along.

The rain slowly converted into a torrential downpour and almost made it impossible for me to see the old muddy road through the woods. I went on wiping the windshield from inside as the exhaled water vapours condensed on the inner side of the windshield.
Driving across these roads itself is a big pain and that too under these weather conditions and that too when I was cautioned, which still rang in my ears again and again. Perhaps I should have stayed back, I thought, when my car suddenly jerked and came to a halt.

I pressed on the accelerator, but it’s of no avail. One of the frontal powered wheels was stuck in a muddy swamp, and the tyre slipped in the mud allowing no grip. I opened the door covering myself with a coat and looked at the condition.
‘Shit, I am stuck here for the night’ I thought angrily even as I kicked the tyre. I am right now stuck in the middle of the woods amidst a heavy downpour and so I couldn’t even expect any help. I opened the pack of cigarettes and I started to light it when the flame was being put out by the wind.

‘This is hell.. shit...’ when a hand extended towards me with a lighter and the other hand trying to keep the flame alight. Even as I lit my cigarette I saw the other person with blood red eyes in the faint light of the flame and I fell back in fright. The stout man whom I have seen at the tollgate side motel pulled a crowbar from behind him and started to move in my direction.

I way lying on the muddy road and crawling backwards pleading, ‘Please don’t kill me… please’ when he lifted the crowbar and heaved it heavily onto…. the ground. And started to dig the mud from the side and pouring it back beneath the tyre. He then came with a metal rope and tied it to my car and started to pull it back with the towing truck.

After a few minutes of struggle I was out of the swamp and I continued my journey thanking him. His headlights slowly faded in the darkness even as I watched him through my rear view mirror.

After moving on the highway I could feel some metal being dragged by my car and so I pulled over. I could see the metal wire used by the tow-man to pull the car out from the mud. ‘He’s forgotten to collect this one’, I thought ‘I will return it to him at the motel when I am back’

My errand at the town was completed and I started to drive back. I decided not to risk this time and hence I was driving under the sun. I passed through the woods, the place where my car was stuck in the mud and I reached the toll gate when I alighted from my vehicle.

I walked towards the motel with the metal string in my hand and inquired about the stout man. The receptionist looked at me and said,’ I am sorry ma’am, are you talking about the towing truck driver’ and I nodded when he continued, ‘the truck driver, a stout man died yesterday evening because of a heart-attack around 20:00 hrs’

‘No way’, I screamed much to his surprise, when I said ‘He towed my car out of the swamp yesterday night’

‘That’s not possible’, he said, ‘the truck driver hasn’t left his room since yester night and today morning he was found dead, probably passed out due to a heart attack’, he explained.

I slowly started to walk out of the motel and I reached his truck. It was very clean. ‘Even if it was at the woods, there would have been mud and it would have looked like my car’ I thought looking at my car. I went to the toll gate and asked the man who cautioned me the previous night.

He too said the same thing. He hasn’t seen the tow-man moving out of the hotel.

And then I reached towards my car in disbelief and fright. ‘Then who saved me last night, where did I get this metal string from…’ when I saw the metal string in my hand and I threw it onto the ground with fright and I squirmed.

‘What happened next, where is the metallic string… when did this incident happen…’ so many questions were raised by the female audience when I finished my story.

‘The metallic string lies….’, I paused for a moment and then pointed my finger to a man sitting in one corner of the room. ‘The metallic string lies in the corner with that man’ I finished pointing to the tow-man sitting in the corner even as he proceeded to the door and bolted it before walking towards the audience. Gripping the metal string in his hand, he tightened it over the neck of the first victim even as she looked at me in despair and fright.

‘My obsession with the serial killer continues….’ As I finished the story.

Three laws of duel

2008-02-15T08:42:00.000+05:30

I was barely out of school when I first witnessed the duel. A rich landlord often used to challenge his neighbouring landlords by inviting them for a duel and ultimately possessing their land after he killed them.

Sir Henry and Sir Richards walked onto the field followed by an attendant who opened a chest. Two new single shot gold plated Italian Flintlock Dragoon pistols were lying in the case only to be picked up by each of them. With their bodies prone to each other, they walked for a distance until some one counted 1…. The finger was on the trigger 2…. The gun was brought into the position…. and ‘boom’ ….3…. both of them happened in sync. Sir Henry hasn’t even turned back. And blood oozed from Sir Richards chest even as he fell to the ground while trying to turn. Sir Henry had shot him facing backwards but his hand and gun facing the victim.

‘The three laws, you have to follow them to win this game of death. The first one, Cowards don’t deserve to live and hence the brave are destined to win. The second one, you need to be an adept in the game of hunting and shooting. You were good with the first two, but the third, you missed out. The third law states that your life is dependant on the reaction time. A millisecond is all that costs your life’ and then there was silence.

Those words had a deadly impact on me. ‘One day I will win over you, Sir Henry’ I told myself.

I brought a country pistol and practiced shooting with it even as Sir Henry’s empire went on expanding. I couldn’t do all the things on my own and so I hired a teacher, a woman named Danielle who was a widow of one of Sir Henry’s victims. She was from a noble background and she was adept at shooting and hunting. Moreover she was raging with vengeance, and naturally my perfect choice.

‘You need to have an empire sizeable enough to challenge Sir Henry, and so you will have to participate in the annual duel competitions and win them all before you see your last victim’ she said, ‘You see Sir Henry’s move, he doesn’t turn back to waste time. Instead he maneuvers his hand in the direction of the victim and hence killing him’

There was a war raging between England and other countries which were against the colonial power. Sir Henry was asked to lead a battalion and he headed towards the west to suppress resistance. In the mean while I went on winning duels after duels and expanding my empire. ‘Your life is dependant on the reaction time. A millisecond is all that costs your life..’ I always followed Sir Henry’s words.

Five years since I witnessed the first duel. My empire, if not my age, now is sizeable enough to challenge Sir Henry and he also returned from the war.
My messenger headed to his palace and he was surprised to see an invitation for duel. Normally it’s him who invites reluctant and frightened landlords to duels. He’s heard of me in the war as my name spread far and wide owing to my victories in his absence. And so he readily accepted for the duel.

The day I had been waiting for eventually came and I reached the famous dueling court where Sir Henry hasn’t lost a single duel. I alighted from my carriage, walked towards the court followed by Mrs. Daniele and watched by thousands of curious onlookers. I remember, five years back, I was one amongst them. Today is gonna be my last duel. If I win, I will quit killing and if lose, I lose my life and Sir Henry will be invincible.

Sir Henry looked at me and said, ‘You are too young for a duel’ to which Mrs. Daniele replied, ‘He may be young but not at heart. He’s brave enough to fight you’.
Sir Henry nodded and keenly observed my eyes. ‘There’s no fright in your eyes, not even a bit of anxiety. You are a brave boy, I can’t kill you’ he said even as he was about to leave when I shouted, ‘You are violating the first law’. He turned back and his eyes were red with anger. He called out a name and his attendant slowly approached us onto the court with a wooden chest.

Both of us chose our weapons and promising that we’ll abide by the laws of duel, we turned prone to each other. Then both of us walked for a certain distance before we stopped still with our backs facing each other.

One ….. I moved my finger onto the trigger even as all the incidents that happened previously in my life uncovered in front of my eyes. A slight gust of wind blew my hair and pulling me back to reality from those imaginations.

Two ….. I slowly raised the pistol into position with my hand gripping it even as a droplet of sweat cascaded down my beard. ‘Come on… this is your moment… you can do it… I told myself.

Three …. ‘Boom’ ‘Boom’ … two shots were fired. Both of us were still standing with our backs facing each other. And I looked down in despair even as blood poured out from my chest, and I fell onto the ground on my knees.

With great difficulty I turned back to see Sir Henry still smiling and standing on his feet. ‘No this cant be… not another victory to him…’ when Sir Henry turned to my side when I saw him spit blood from his mouth and he opened his jacket to see that he too was hit in his chest.

He laughed and said ‘Both of us have been hit’ when I put one of my hands down pushing myself onto the feet and I said ‘No…. I ‘m not hit even as a I pressurized my hand over the wound on my chest.

Sir Henry looked confused when I explained the third law and said ‘Your methodology is undeniably the best. You don’t turn back and shoot. Neither do I. But you shoot by moving your hand away from your body which will definitely take more time than my move… My move of not moving the hand away from the body but shooting through the body where I am least hurt…’ when I saw Sir Henry collapsing to the ground much to the surprise of the curious onlookers and he himself to be beat at his own game and also the third law.

Captivity

2008-02-14T12:25:00.001+05:30

I felt a heavy blow on my head before my vision blurred and me falling to the ground. A few minutes later I regained consciousness and I was on a table with both my hands and legs tied to the table. I could only turn my head to see what’s happening around me.

‘Anybody there?’, I hollered, but of no avail. Suddenly a door creaked open and a huge body with an athletic physique entered the room dragging a body along with him.

Looking at me, he said ‘Welcome to the facility, and you are among these subjects who will be tried and tested for my experiments ‘, pointing to few severed human bodies.

‘What kinda experiments?’ I asked him. He laughed, placing the body which he dragged along with him onto the table. It was a girl and she was alive. And then he closed the door, ‘Wham’ behind him and left.

‘We need to get out of here’ the girl hollered. ‘I know that too, but how…’

Within a few minutes we came to know that we are not the lone captives but two more people, all of them tied onto different tables were with us.

‘I was there at this place since yesterday’, said a voice introducing himself as Connor. ‘That guy who left a minute ago is the serial killer Thomas aka Tom. And he’s probably a doctor who instead of conducting experiments on caged animals, he will be using us…’

‘What kinda experiments….’ I asked him to which he replied, ‘I have no idea. He just gets the subjects and I hear them crying in pain before they pass out. And all I see afterwards are severed human organs and blood.’ And suddenly the girl started to cry. ‘Keep quite miss, we’ll find a way out…’ I assured her. ‘A way out…’ Connor laughed, ‘The only way out is to get along with those mutilated beings, that too dead…’

For a day we were all thinking of different ways to escape and when the sun dawned, Tom was back. He slowly opened the door and came near to my table. He pulled out a machete, when I thought he would thrust it into me. He moved to the next table where the girl was lying. He slowly raised the machete much to the dismay of the girl who was squirming under fright, but was instantly laid to rest and there was silence once again. After a few minutes he collected some blood samples and pushed the mutilated parts and the dead body to a corner where many such parts were lying. He then left the place once again.

Two days have passed. Connor and me were the lone survivors, atleast for the time being.

‘Why can’t we attack the serial killer and kill him…’ I replied. ‘We haven’t had food for almost three days. Our starved bodies will be no match against him.’

Pointing to the mutilated parts, ‘You see that, those are our only hope of escape…If we manage to free ourselves and then chop off one of our limbs, hide among the remains so that we’ll be cleared from the place, atleast we can get out, alive!!!’ Connor said.

Wriggling across the table and banging it onto the ground with all the strength left, we were able to push ourselves close enough to a scalpel lying down. Even as Connor was about to pick it up, the door opened and we pretended to lie unconscious as we always did. Tom was back again, this time with two bodies and their fate, same as ours, after tying them up to the tables. Tom walked to the corner and collected all the dead bodies lying down and pushed them into a sack before he left the room again.

The other two persons were already bleeding heavily on account of some injuries afflicted to them. Connor reached for the scalpel and cut our bounds after freeing himself. We dint have the strength to move across and so we slowly dragged ourselves towards a machete that was lying down.

‘No, I can’t do this’ I said. ‘You have to’. Connor replied showing his arm, and I close my eyes raising the machete and his hand fell down, with him wriggling under pain. It was my turn when he raised the machete and severed off my hand too. And in that deep anguish, we slowly crawled towards the corner, and hid ourselves behind the rotting parts.

A day has passed and Tom hasn’t turned up. Connor’s health was failing even as he bled heavily. I removed a piece of cloth and tied it to his hand to arrest the bleeding. Within a few hours, his wound was infected and he was almost dying in pain. ‘Please kill me…’ he requested, ‘I can’t bear this pain any more…’

‘Please Connor, some more time…Tom should be around the corner by now…’ I said. After a few hours, Connor was silent. I reached to him and was aghast to know that he passed away. My wound now started to pain. I think I too contracted an infection.
The door then opened and Tom looked around and came towards me. He pushed all the severed organs into the sack and started to walk off leaving me behind.

‘No.. please… no.. this is not gonna happen…’ I prayed when he turned back and looked at me. He slowly lifted me up and took me out of the room and then placed me on a table when he pulled out few dressings and bandages and started to clean up my wound.

‘My health is failing and I need someone to take over me’ he said even as he dressed my wound. And when he asked me to hold a bottle when he pulled out an injection, I realized that he too had a severed hand…….

The thirteenth floor

2008-02-11T12:42:00.001+05:30

‘That’s the hotel, please pull over’, I asked the cabbie. I pulled out my luggage and walked across to the reception.

‘14th floor, sir’, the guy said handing me over the keys and called a waiter to assist me.

‘This way sir’, the waiter led me to the elevator.

He pressed a button numbered 14, when I noticed a queer thing.

‘We don’t have an elevator stop at the 13th floor as it’s considered unlucky in this part of the world’. And the doors closed slowly and the elevator started to ascend under the tension of the metal strings pulling it.

‘So the 13th floor is rechristened to 14?’ I asked him.

‘There is no 13th floor sir, in our hotel. You cross the 12th floor and we reach the 14th floor’, he said.

‘That’s not logical. How can that possibly be?’ I grinned, and he looked at me in distraught fury. ‘When I say there is no 13, you got to believe it. If you want you can check for yourself!!!’

9….10….11….12…. ….14 and the door slowly slid open, even as I exited out of the elevator and the doors slowly closed again behind me with the waiter saying a bye. It took time to cross the 13th floor, yet no number appeared on the digital display. All this looked very absurd.

‘That guy must be nuts’, I thought even as I changed into my night clothes and rang up the reception for dinner. A few minutes later, one more guy turned up to serve dinner. I asked him about the 13th floor after paying a hefty tip. What astounded me was the same answer given to me by this guy.

‘Have all of them gone nuts or is it me who’s gone crazy’ I looked at the mirror and spoke, ‘I am gonna check out the same thing in the night’

It was around 11 O’clock when the knob slowly rotated and my room door opened slowly. I slowly came out of the room and started to walk towards the stairs. I looked out of a window on the way and saw the advertisement hoarding fixed outside the hotel, peeped my head a little out of the window and counted the number of floors. ‘1…2… .. 13, yes 13 floors below me’, I told myself.

As I approached the stairs, I looked down and my eyes started to reel under acrophobia. Holding onto the railings I slowly walked down the stairs before looking at the placard on my floor which read 14th floor and then walked down to reach the 12th floor.

I proceeded to walk towards the window, peeping my head out I looked up. And I began to tremble under fear. The advertisement hoarding which was fixed on the outer side of the 14th floor seemed to look 2 floors away from here, now. I climbed down only one floor, I was very sure about that. But…

And I counted the number of floors below me. ‘1…2… ..11, 11 floors, that means I am at the 12th floor. Actually I should have been on the 13th. And I started to climb back. Expecting to see the placard 14th floor, the lights suddenly went off when I have almost reached. The whole place was dark and I dint even have a torch with me. Holding onto the walls, I slowly started to walk towards my room. ‘These walls seem to be pretty old, with the plastering coming off at a lot of places and I could feel the blisters on the walls.

Suddenly I heard a cry, the cry of a woman and I turned back. Even with fully dilated pupils, I couldn’t see a thing as it was pitch black. And I turned to walk in the direction of my room. I suddenly heard a whisper and started to tread along even faster. As I reached the third door, I reached for the knob, when I felt something soft and fleshy. And I immediately retracted my hand from that thing.

‘I sense many eyes watching me, or is it just my delusion?’ I asked myself not knowing that I would be answered in a few more minutes. I decided to go back to the stairs and turned around running in that direction. Judging by the distance I walked to this place, I knew I was very close to the stairs when I suddenly trampled across what could have been a human body and a pair of hands holding my feet, tripping me over.

A sticky fluid was all that I could feel on the floor amidst obnoxious odours. And I could feel the pair of hands grabbing my feet when I tried to kick them off. Back on my feet again, I was about to run when I rammed into a huge silhouette blocking my path and again falling down. I could see the light at the stairs a few feet away. Pushing the silhouette, I made a dash to the stairs gathering momentum. As I neared the light, I screamed in fright.

My skin started to peel over and the flesh on my feet started to rot exposing the bone and I collapsed onto the ground only to see the decay spreading slowly from the feet towards the abdomen and I looked back to find many partially decayed beings moving towards me before my eye balls dropped out from the sockets and distinctly heard ‘Welcome to the 13th floor’, before I stopped to hear……

The blood diaries

2008-02-11T12:41:00.000+05:30

An untold love story of a serial killer…

Pulling out a machete and thrusting it deep into her body, I pushed her body after it fell prone on me. ‘One more feather in my cap’, I smiled and I walked across the fallen body wriggling under pain.

‘Following yesterday’s murder, the total tolls gone to 35. The investigations are still underway. We expect the unmarried ladies not to leave home, particularly after evening hours…’ the news flashed again and again.

Emptying the glass of wine, I switched off the TV throwing away the remote.

‘I hate to kill people’, I wrote in my diary and I pushed myself back onto the chair and puffed. ‘A woman is an embodiment of love, the cradle of human life, but I couldn’t help, my childhood left a scar on my life which I am not able to erase. The deep rooted hatred developed inside me towards women makes me kill them…’

And I fell asleep holding the pen in my hand and the diary on the table.

The Sun shone brightly the next morning and I woke up with a head ache. Probably a hangover, I thought. I opened my door to fetch the newspaper, when my eyes were bedazzled by a beautiful woman walking along the road. I looked behind and my machete still bore the marks of yesterday’s kill. I closed the door behind me and started to follow her.

Lurking behind the stationary cars, I slowly followed her to her home. When she was at home, I discovered that she couldn’t speak.

‘Oh God, I wanted to kill a girl who’s mute…’ and I threw away my machete which clanged on hitting the ground, when she turned behind. She looked at me and smiled.

‘That’s it… I have fallen in love with her smile… in fact I have fallen in love with her itself…’ I thought. The whole world seemed to come to a standstill with only us exchanging words through looks. She opened the door. Having gone inside, she has taken away my heart along with her.

‘I would do anything for her… anything… ‘ I wrote, ‘Till date I have killed 35 girls in all with such callosity and malicious perfection and without any reprieve. Women have made my life miserable. The abuse, the humiliation I have suffered in my earlier life had turned me into a monster, a ruthless killing machine, but today, me who’s lingering in the darkest corners of human morality, saw light, a light good enough to change me. And these hands which slew many an innocent victims are never gonna feel blood again. The machete which thrust deep into the hearts of many a woman would never see light again….’

The next day I’ve gone to the church to confess my sins and henceforth absolve them. I knew God will punish me, but I dint want to be separated from her. That was the only wish I made.

I used to follow her every day from dawn till dusk, from the time she would leave her home to till she reached. ‘I am very protective of her too’. Every time she saw me, she smiled at me. I was very particular about one thing that whether she loved me or not, she did reciprocate these feelings.

One day, I gathered all my courage and proposed to her at the church. She promptly accepted and this was the best moment of my life. All the abuse, the humiliation, the abhorrence, the scar in my childhood seemed to vanish opening the gates for a new world, a world where love seemed to rule my heart rather than the machete.

‘I want this happiness to last, last forever’ I fell on my knees and prayed.

A few days later, it was our wedding. I held her close to me and kissed her after exchanging the rings. And that was day when a beast turned into a man, to live like a man forever.

‘Life passed by, with the police still having no clues why the killings have stopped and the case still remaining open, and me, enjoying life with my wife….’ I continued in my diary until one day when she came across the machete and the diary when she was dusting the shelves. She put the diary and the machete before me on the table and looked at me, as if she wanted me to give an explanation.

I came close to her and ran my fingers through her curly locks and pulled her close to me, and narrated my story. She patiently listened to my entire story and then there were tears in her eyes. She pulled me close to her and kissed on my forehead and said, ‘I love you….’

I was shell shocked to hear her speak. Even before I could say anything, the machete slowly thrust into heart tearing apart the chest and ribs. And I looked at her in dismayed fright. Pushing me away from her body she slowly pulled back the machete and said, ‘I kill people whom I love….’

Even as blood poured out of my heart, which was already broken into pieces, I slowly fell to the ground with darkness once again looming around me. And the last I could see was she pulling out a diary and writing something, after which she pointed the machete towards me and say ‘23rd …’ before my eyes stopped to see and my heart stopped to love, once again.

The revenge of the reventon

2008-02-11T12:39:00.000+05:30

‘A serial killer is on prowl killing women at random. According to eye witnesses and other reliable sources, we came to know that ….’

I turned off the radio. The same news was repeatedly broadcast again and again. ‘Murders, robberies, rapes… Every morning you hear nothing other than such untoward incidents… phew…’ I thought.

I had to wait till the sun dawned. ‘Now it’s time for me to drive my beauty’ and I rushed to the shelf for the keys.

‘Cluck… cluck…’ my beauty unlocked. The Italian Lamborghini make, Lockheed F-22 raptor design inspired, 650BHP powered by a 6.5L V12 engine Reventon. In automotive terms Reventon means burst or flat tyre. Only twenty such cars exist in the entire world and mine’s one of them.

Opening the trademark Lamborghini scissor doors, I got into the car, and pulled the doors down turning on the ignition. And shifting to the first gear, the car slowly moved out of my garage. Today I will be racing across the Mexican border along route 43, old Mexican highway starting from San Andreas.

Within a few minutes I was already cruising on the old Mexican highway at about 140 miles an hour. A Mercedes McLaren SLR, an Audi TT Quattro to name a few are some old customers, left behind. Though I wasn’t utilizing all the horses inside my car, still those customers are no match for my beauty.

After driving for half an hour, I saw another speedster crossing me. ‘It’s a Lamborghini… it’s a Murceilago… no it’s another Reventon… One of the elite twenty… let me race with him…’ and I shifted one gear down and my car roared to life.

Two Reventon’s scorching the old Mexican highway in between the old style ranches is the rarest of the rarest sights. The highway is a two lane road with vehicles plying up and down not very often. I was a NASCAR driver, and I had no problem in driving my car at 250 KMPH. But I was shocked to see that the other Reventon was also racing pretty close to mine.

I tried to look into the other car through the window, and I could see a girl wearing a helmet. She looked at me and indicated me to look forward when I saw a big Red Rugger coming in my direction. I was driving at such a high speed that forcing the car to come to a complete halt would take no less than 25 seconds and in that time I would be smashed to bits.

Having not decided what to do, I would hit the truck in another 2 seconds when I pulled over the wheel and my car hit the other Reventon forcing both our cars off the highway even as we sped into the sandy ranches. After 10 seconds both our cars came to a complete halt. I opened the scissor doors and got out of my car and proceeded to walk towards the other car.

As I reached the car, I looked through the window. The girl was lying unconscious. I tried to open the door, but it was locked from inside. Looking around for a metal rod to break open the glass, I started to walk away from the car, when I heard the scissor doors open.

I turned back in surprise when I saw the girl coming out of the door and slowly pull a machete dripping blood, from behind and she started to laugh wildly. This girl must be the serial killer, I thought and I started to run away from the place with her chasing me.

The place seemed to be endless with no place to hide, when I came across a wooden house. I ran towards the house and hid behind, when I caught hold of a broken log. ‘The girl was right behind me, where’s she now’, I started searching for her, gripping the log in one hand.

I saw a shade trying to plunge a knife from behind when I jumped down in the nick of time and hit the girl with the wooden plank. She fell to the ground as I sprang to my feet and dashed to the car. I jumped into the car and the tyres revved up the sandy roads and it wasn’t long back before I started driving on the highway.

‘That was a pretty close shave with the killer’, I thought, adjusting the rear view mirror when I saw the other Reventon on my trail. ‘Shit… she’s still behind me’, I thought even as I raced my car along the highway before I actually lost her. I drove for some more time before slowing down when I heard a blaring sound.

‘Please pull over…Reventon… Please pull over’ I could see a police car on my trail. As I slowed down my car and pulled it over, two officers approached me with guns in their hand.

‘On you knees, man…’ they shouted, and I fell to the ground with hands behind my back. With one officer on guard, the other went to look inside the car.

‘There’s a dead body inside the car, sir. He’s the serial killer whom we have been searching for…’, he shouted even as I was astounded.

‘Oh shit, this isn’t my car…’ when I looked at the colour under the revolving red and blue lights of the cop’s car. It’s gleaming black, ‘And mine is moon silver…’ when I saw a moon silver Lamborghini Reventon race past us even as the radio from the cop’s car shouted …

‘A serial killer is on prowl killing women at random. According to eye witnesses and other reliable sources, we came to know that the serial killer ‘s plying in a black Lamborghini Reventon…’

Six days of the night

2008-02-06T12:18:00.000+05:30

Author’s note: again another gory story. Sorry I couldn’t help. And as usual, this is R-rated

If death is imminent, there would end all my woes – Davinson.

Day 1

I never knew how I got into this cave. The last thing I ever remember was spending the time with my family, I closed my eyes when my daughter planted a kiss on my cheek and when I opened my eyes, I was in this cave. No light, no water, no food. I shouted at the top of my voice. But there is no human soul in the audible horizon.

The first few hours have passed, with me trying to find a way out of the cave. Within a few hours I realized that my efforts were futile and there is no way out, considering the fact that the entire place is pitch-dark.

Day 2

My vision is of no use. I have to entirely rely on my hearing instincts. I slept for most of the time to reduce my metabolism rate and save energy. Nevertheless, my intestines wriggled under the quenching thirst and hunger. Just as I was about to faint, I heard something move close in my vicinity. Having developed an acute sense of prudence based on hearing, I picked up a stone and flung it in the direction of the sound. I heard a loud thud and I rushed towards it. It’s a creature, a human being.

When survival matters, man can go to any extent. Plunging a stone deep into the human being, mindless of whether it is dead or alive, I drank to my heart content. Within a few minutes, the entire blood coagulated and I decided to cut open the body and feed on the edible parts. I tore apart the skin below the rib cage and pushed my hand deep into the body searching for the liver.

I seemed to have reclaimed vitality. I haven’t even wondered from where the being came from.

Day 3

A horrible stink emanated from the dead carcass. And I started to wonder on what I should feed on today. And the other major problem is the smell emanating from the feces. I had no option but to live with these. I would walk across the rocks until I reach a peak and again I would start tumbling down. Today, I hurt myself so badly. My condition became worse, but I still had the longing to live. My family, what happened to them, where are they?

Day 4

My condition worsened day by day. No food yesterday topped with the wound and the flies and bacteria infecting it, I knew that I wasn’t gonna live too long. My head was already reeling and the strength in me fading slowly. I have developed a penchant for blood that I started to lick my own wound. Gross. But if you were in such a situation, you would also be doing the same thing. And believe me, you would be doing it, actually.

And when my hands were trembling on account of lots of insulin burning out the glucose in my blood, I again heard a sound in the cave. Life, I thought and my life sprang back, with me drawing all the left over energy and rushing towards it.

Even as the being fought for its dear life, my life is dearer to me. And I raised the stone, killing it. Blood splattered all over my face. I slowly move my hand over the body. It’s a female, I could sense that. And then tearing apart the skin, I fed on all edible portions. I licked my fingers clean. That was a great meal, I had in days together.

Day 5

This can’t happen to me. I won’t indulge in more cannibalistic acts. I would rather find out from where these beings are coming from and would find my way out. What am I going to say if my own daughter asks me, what I did these days to survive?

My wound became worse and I just wanted to die a peaceful death.

Day 6

Today, I heard something soft rolling down the rocks. As I reached for the same, it’s a human being but it’s very small, probably a kid. It wasn’t talking but making some sounds. I couldn’t understand them. Yesterday, I haven’t eaten anything. With the failing health and degenerated moral values, I decided to cut open the kid too.

I ripped apart the clothes and as I was about to silence the kid by hitting it with a stone, a fatherly love in some corner of my heart told me not to kill the kid. I put the boulder onto the ground and started to cry out loud.

After crying for some time, I raised the boulder and dropped it heavily.

Day 7

‘Archer, we found the hideout, its 30 km from San Andreas’ the voice from the other end of the phone said. Detective Archer made his way to the cave deep in the woods.

‘Look at these bodies, they were killed and eaten up. You see their mouths, they were stitched and so they couldn’t talk. Four bodies in all, in a highly decomposed state and eaten up partially…’ even before he could finish the recording, ‘Detective, we found one more body’ and Archer rushed towards it.

In the gleaming beam of the torches, detective saw a body of a man, with his head crushed under the boulder. And he heard a low moan from another direction. He rushed towards the moan, and rescued a kid and the medics took care of her afterwards.

‘This is one of the goriest murders I have ever seen. We suspect serial killer Jack’s role in these murders. All the deceased belong to the Davinson family. Except for Mr. Davinson who was found dead with his head crushed under the boulder, all the others had their mouths stitched and eaten up. The only survivor is the Davinson’s kid who’s undergoing treatment at the hospital now’ and Archer finished writing his preliminary report.

The interview

2008-02-05T11:31:00.000+05:30

The author’s note: This story is grotesque. Don’t read it if you are offended by such stuff.

Your worst fear begins when you start to squirm… And I normally squirm for grotesque stuff….

‘You have come for the interview ma’am? ’, he asked me when I was going through my documents and placing them in the correct order.

‘Yes’, I replied blinking my eyes. He gave a smile and walked back to the room after indicating me to wait for some more time and called in another girl. I looked at another girl and asked her, ‘How’s the interview going on?’

‘I don’t know, nobody who’s gone inside have come out’ and I looked at her with raised brows and she continued, ‘and only ladies were called for this interview’ and I squirmed under fright.

‘I definitely smell a rat, lets sneak in and find out what’s going on? ’, she suggested and both of started to move close to the door. And I looked through a keyhole. I couldn’t see anything initially. It was all red, but slowly as the redness started to fade, I realized that its blood dripping slowly from the opposite end of the keyhole.

I was so frightened even to continue beyond that and I pulled back myself, explaining what I’ve seen to the other girl. She suggested that we should leave the place as soon as possible. Even before we could take an evasive action, two strong men appeared in front of us, and dragged us inside by holding our hair, even as she and I were battling for our escape. I was pulled to one corner and had my hands and feet bound by chains.

She was slowly dragged across to the interview table even as she showed some resilience by digging the ground with her nails, but all this turned into nail scratches on the ground long before she was lying on the interview table.

I looked across the room and found partially eaten bodies of girls when I realized that I was attending a cannibal interview. I screamed in fright when I looked to the other side. A girl was lying down with blood coming out from her mouth even as she was trying to tell me something. She caught hold of me and with great difficulty, asked my help to stop her bleeding.

Already her two hands were on her abdomen part, when I had to put both my hands which were tied together, onto her stomach. I felt something wriggling and by the time I could recognize that it’s her half mauled intestine, I pulled back my hands in fear.

I started to scream, but it seemed to die out in the thin air, and then suddenly stopped when I heard another girl scream. I looked towards the interview table and three big guys were mauling upon the poor girl.

One guy dug his mouth with his teeth into her tummy and bit the skin and pulled his head with such a force that the girl was lifted into the air ephemerally and she fell onto the table under her body weight, but before her tummy was torn and blood started to spurt all over.

Licking the blood on his face after spitting the skin, the man bent down onto her and started to eat the intestines with great relish. Two more guys joined him and one of them cut the tendon and ligament at the feet and as blood started to pour out, he started to drink it…..

‘Just stop it… its damn gross… grotesque… I don’t wanna hear about your interview… you could have simply said that you weren’t selected for it, and I would have taken it much more happily’ said Michelle throwing the pillow at me.

And I started to laugh. ‘Better don’t ask me questions from the next time onwards or you know what’s gonna happen…’ I winked and continued to smile.

‘Move on Michelle, we’ll have lunch…’ even as I started to pull her, she was reluctant. ‘Those intestine biting and wriggling things have made my intestines wriggle under this gross stuff, and you expect me to eat?’ she pushed me onto the bed with her hands on my neck and showing her teeth.

She was so strong that I couldn’t fight back and she lifted my shirt and bent down with her mouth wide open and bit it. ‘No…..’ I shouted and she looked towards me and winked. ‘Fool, I was kidding’, she said and for a moment ‘I had goose bumps you see’

Then we moved to the dining table and I pulled open the refrigerator door and put a dish onto the table.

‘What’s that black thing?’ Michelle asked.

‘Liver…’ I said even as I chopped a piece of it, and started to bite it, under all its yummy taste.

The mirror

2008-02-04T16:14:00.000+05:30

Organized/Nonsocial Offenders types are usually of high intelligence, have an above average IQ (120+ range), and plan their crimes quite methodically, usually abducting victims, killing them in one place and disposing of them in another. They maintain a high degree of control over the crime scene, and usually have a solid knowledge of forensic science that enables them to cover their track.

June 20

‘This is Dr. Thomas, neurologist interviewing serial killer Jill’, placing the recorder close to my mouth, I asked Jill ‘So what are the reasons behind your killings Jill?’

‘Have you ever looked into the mirror doc, what do you see beyond your pupils? ‘Jill asked. ‘You haven’t answered my question’, I looked into his eyes, ‘No, you haven’t answered mine’, he was furious.

‘I see a monster beyond your eyes’, I said and he started to smile inadvertently and replied, ‘so do I….’

March 10

‘Twenty six girls in all, murdered in cold blood and discovered so far with another two kills’ said the news reporter with the cameraman zooming onto the two bodies of the girls recovered lately.

Detective Drakes was having a chat with Chief Inspector David, ‘going by the kills, we have two serial killers, two patterns. But the circumstantial evidence proves that there was only one guy. It could be very much possible that one of the serial killers is of organized types plotting to involve the other guy also into these killings’

‘Or isn’t it possible that the same guy is killing two sets of people at the same time?’ asked David. Drakes was now in deep thoughts.

April 13

A handsome man in his 40’s walked into the police station, and asked for detective Drakes. ‘May I come in, detective?’ he asked after knocking at the door. Normally Drakes wouldn’t allow visitors, but this man insisted to meet him as he wanted to give him a tipoff about the serial killer. Drakes called in David and asked the operator to send the man into his room.

‘Yes, please do come in’, Drakes replied, and a man with an athletic physic entered the room.

‘Detective, please listen to me carefully, I am the serial killer you are looking for’ he said straight looking into his eyes. David burst into laughter but Drakes had something else running in his mind.

June 20

I went on questioning, ‘Why did you kill 26 innocent victims Jill?’

‘Please hold it doc’, I killed only 13. The other 13 were killed by Jack’, he replied, ‘Please make sure that you go through the circumstantial evidence before convicting me’

I asked, ‘Who’s Jack?’ to which Jill promptly replied, ‘Jack and Jill went up to kill, to fetch a pail of blood….’

‘Please Jill, stop that, you have been saying the same thing innumerable times’

‘You see these patterns doc, it’s done by me. I am more organized than Jack, and I have covered all my tracks so far. I wanted to kill only 13 people and after that I have surrendered myself before the police.

March 10

‘It’s more than impossible that there is one guy who’s committed these murders. If you look at the handling of the knife in both the incidents, the post mortem reports on the dead girls and also the circumstantial evidence at only one place, all these indicate two guys are involved’ ,Drakes continued.

‘The following thing, isn’t made public, but since you were stressing that there’s only one guy, I have to divulge this. There is one thing common between them, each of them carved their respective names on the waists of the victims, and the way it’s written was exceptionally same for the 13 victims of Jack and same for 13 victims of Jill, but, undeniably these two sets of carvings differed from each other’

David had goose bumps on hearing this.

April 13

‘My name is Thomas and I am a neurologist. I am responsible for killing 13 young women and carving my name onto their waists. I have completed my number and so I am surrendering myself, voluntarily’, I said.

‘Freeze’, David shouted, but he was pushed back by Drakes, ‘This isn’t our man; his name isn’t Jack or Jill…’ and both of them looked at surprise towards me.

I replied, ‘If you don’t believe me, please send you men to search in these locations’. Drakes wasn’t sure of me, but still he sent a few men to the place I pointed. Within few minutes, there was a call on Drakes mobile.

‘Sir, whatever Dr. Thomas said is very much true. We found another 13 bodies of young ladies, very well preserved and with a mark of his name Dr. Thomas on their waists’, the voice from the other end said so.

The present day

‘Dr. Thomas is convicted of 39 crimes committed under three different masks, and he be taken to the asylum, where he would be treated for his condition’ was the verdict from the federal court.

June 20

‘You look into this mirror’ I said pointing towards Jill, you very much see that Jill and Jack are not different but one and the same’

‘You look into this mirror’, Jill showing a mirror towards me and said, ‘Jack and Thomas are not different but very much same’

And I started to sing ‘Jack and Jill went up to kill, to fetch a pail of blood….’

Miss sledgehammer

2008-02-04T11:35:00.000+05:30

23:00 hrs

‘Walking like a man, heading like a hammer, she’s a juvenile scam…’ and everyone on the dance floor swayed to the grooves of the DJ. A pair of feet without any protection and dripping wet stepped onto the dance floor. ‘Miss, you look dirty with these bloodstains all over your clothes’, a voice beckoned me as I closed onto on guy. I smiled at him, a statement which was regarded as the smile of an angel but the indication of the devil, of course by his predecessors and then a sledgehammer in my hand replied….

‘…kissing like a rainbow… she’s got the look…’ the music ensued.

‘I don’t like the word dirty’, I looked at his fallen body pointing the sledgehammer towards him and shook my head.

22:00 hrs

‘What is it honey, where have you been? And what’s wrong with your clothes, why are they dirty?’ Mark asked even as I stepped out of the bathroom washing my hands and I turned to one corner of the room. ‘Answer me, Cathy’, Mark held my shoulders and shrugged me. And I looked at the corner where the sledgehammer was lying.

21:00 hrs

Mark was restless and was writing something in a book sort of a thing. When I neared him, he closed the book. And he pulled me away from the table holding me by my waist and biting my neck.

‘Stop it Mark’, I pushed him away. He thought he diverted me, but my gaze was transfixed on the book in which he was writing something.

20:00 hrs

‘Five girls Andie, Betty, Dorothy, Verona, Mickey have gone missing in the past few days, with the latest one missing a few hours back’, said the news reported flashing the photos of the missing girls. ‘And a few more murders at the respective places of their abduction, proving that those who have seen the abductions or those who provided some resilience were killed. Perhaps a single or a group of serial killers are on a prowl abducting teenage girls, so we request you to stay indoors after the sun dawns’ she continued.

‘Mark, you saw that, all these girls who went missing are from the very same area’, I said when Mark looked at me and gave a distinct smile. ‘So what do you want me to do?’ he asked.

‘Honey, I will be back in some time, please don’t leave the house…’ said Mark as he left the house. When he was about to pull the door, I saw him donning black gloves, sliding a pistol into his pocket, and many thoughts ran in my mind thereafter.

‘Why not follow Mark … I smell a rat’ I thought and followed him closely.

19:00 hrs

Special Officer Mark and his associate were at the place of abduction of the fifth girl.

‘The entire place is a mess, 4 people slashed brutally with a chainsaw and what you see all over here are the severed legs, and a girl went missing. She was supposedly walking along the road when a Volkswagen van stopped in front of her even before she was pulled into the van’, explained Sergeant Stephen.

And Mark was noting it down in a book which he promptly pulled out from his pocket.

‘When did this happen?’ Mark asked Stephen. ‘At around 6:30 PM, the girl was abducted…’

‘And these people were slain at….’ Mark interrupted and Stephen looked at Mark and said ‘…6:00 PM …’

18:00 hrs

Four friends were walking along the road along the river side, even as the sun was setting down behind the river bridge. There were no one in the near vicinity, and a figure slowly emerged close to them. On hearing the chainsaw sound, the four guys looked behind. ‘Who’s that?’ Willy shouted. Even before a message could be passed by the nerve receptors from brain to the spinal cord, Willy was lying dead on the ground with a heavily bled abdomen. And the same fate followed his friends.

23:30 hrs

A van stopped in front of the pub where I killed some people with the sledgehammer. Even before I made my futile attempts to escape from the place, two strong pair of hands caught hold of me and pulled me inside and slammed the sliding door.

‘Welcome miss, it’s a great pleasure to have you in our club. Please meet Andie, Betty, Dorothy, Verona and me, Mickey… and girls, meet Cathy’ said Mickey even as she pushed the chainsaw to one side to accommodate me.

‘Cathy, the sledgehammer ….’ she continued as I grinned, and all of them holding their respective weapons.

The burial

2008-02-01T10:52:00.000+05:30

The burial or inhumation of a corpse is the act of placing a person or object into the ground and this grave is the last place where all the secrets are buried and so is the deepest rooted fear within …

Switching off the lights I went to bed after a very tiring day. There was a torrential downpour outside with thunder bolts not allowing me to sleep. I slowly reached to the window still drooling under sleep and looked across.

Far across the hill top I could see that there is no rain over there, but with the moon as the background I saw the shadow of a dog. No, it’s a wolf, and it’s howling. It is said that the howl of a wolf brings disaster to the person who sees or hears it. Already the milieu is damn frightening, and to add to my worst woes, this wolf’s howl. I was squirming under funk and passed my fingers over the cross which I wear and tried to get back to sleep.

For one final time I looked out of the window. In one lightning strike, I saw a giant silhouette with its huge claws which seemed to dawn upon me. For a minute I stood motionless, and then heaved a sigh of relief. It was the shadow of a dead tree with its branches spread like claws.

‘Fear, deep rooted within, is the ghost, responsible for my multitudinous delusions’ I told myself and went back to bed. I was able to sleep for some time but suddenly woke up when I heard a soft whispering.

‘Someone called me, I knew someone called me’. And I heard the voice once again. I slowly reached to the window and looked out of it again. For a minute I clung to the window and was looking around like a kid. When I tried to turn back, I distinctly heard a whispering, ’Noddy…’ and I looked out once again.

It was the most tremulous moment of my life. I saw a woman, no… a girl, clad in a white gown. She must be in her twenties and with her hair falling over her head under the weight of water droplets trickling down those strands, the sight was indeed jittery. I could see her outline. For a while I thought it was some one stuck in the rain but I saw her long nails, I was panic-stricken.

She slowly raised her hand and pulled her dripping wet hair back and I saw her face. Half rotten and with two or three scratches of knife on her face, she looked scary, but more than this the last thing I could see in her face, scared the shit out of me.

‘Her eyes, they are so beautiful’ I thought and in the next twinkling the black balls just rolled behind and I could only see the white sclera of her eyes, and she looked at me and smiled. It was like a demon, no… a ghoul and I jumped back onto my bed holding the cross in my hand.

Suddenly I felt a chill run down my spine. The room has become so cold and my fingers numb. I was not only shivering under the cold, but also under fright. I opened my eyes and looked around. And that girl clad in white dress was standing at one corner still with her head down. With her hands crossed over her chest, she suddenly opened them and spread them like the wings of an eagle and was moving towards me. She then looked at me and gave a wolfish laugh and I could see her canines sharp and hungry for blood.

I reached for a baseball bat and heaved it heavily onto her. The bat hit her face and it turned her face and disfigured the skull and she fell onto the ground. And I tried to run out of the room when she caught hold of my feet and I tripped over. She slowly crawled on her body pulling me down with her claw like nails digging into my body, and in the next moment she was lying right on the top of me.

I saw the blankness in her eyes and her appetite for blood in her canines dripping some sticky fluid even as she slowly dug them into my shoulder and gripped them. Then she pulled her mouth out with a great force and tearing it apart.
I tried to push her off my body and was crawling back under great pain with blood pouring out from the torn shoulder part. She was strong enough to pull me back and dug her claws into my chest and thrust them into it. A tear dropped onto the ground and a few more ensued.

As I cried in vain before meekly submitted myself under the great pain, for one last time I saw her eyes and my eye lids slowly dropped down never to see light again. I could feel her dragging my body slowly.

‘Exhume the body carefully men’ said Sergeant Thomas looking at the stone on the grave which read ‘Noddy James, 1978 - 2008’. Three days later, Thomas and his men were at the graveyard. They slowly removed the coffin and undid the nails and opened the lid of the coffin.

‘Oh my gosh’ screamed in terror, ‘Sergeant you got to look at this’, when he rushed to see the opened coffin.

Later in his report, the sergeant incorporated this piece, which was never made public.

‘… There was lot of blood on the velvet cloth on which Noddy was lying. There were a few marks on his chest as if some nails have been dug into it. A portion of his shoulder part was missing as if it has been eaten. And his teeth had the stains of blood, his fingers and nails also contained the blood marks. And there were nail scratch marks along the inner sides of the coffin. Apparently he was buried alive. He desperately tried to come out but of no avail. Either out of starvation or in a frantic move to kill himself he bit the shoulder part and dug the nails into his chest….’

‘… But the thing that baffled me is his eyes. They dint contain the black pupil nor the iris. They were hauntingly blank …’

The Prediction

2008-01-31T12:10:00.000+05:30

In a cat and a mouse game, detective Castor want to put an end to Johnny’s serial killings. But on the other hand Johnny vows to take him down. So what’s your prediction…?

‘You can never predict my end, detective, I have played it safe till date and so am I going to. You ….’ And suddenly the call went blank.

Detective Castor immediately called the control centre and asked them to trace his last call. 30,000 feet above the earth, a geosynchronous satellite shifted its focus and then, ‘this might be incredible but the serial killer is calling from somewhere near your house, our satellite’s precision is 250 metres. So that guy must be in an circle of 250 metres radius around your house, sorry but this is all we can do detective’

Castor hyper-threaded his predictions rewinding the conversation in his brain and tried to recollect any possible sounds from the background when he was on the call.

LOCATION: SOME PLACE NEAR CASTOR’S HOME _

Castor slowly emerged from behind a pillar and pulled out his Beretta with its muzzle pointing towards the ground. ‘Come on baby, I am gonna get you today’ he told himself.

‘Boom’ there was a shot and it hit the pillar behind which Castor was hiding. Castor started to run towards the next pillar and with his gun pointing in the direction of the shot and pressed the trigger twice and he jumped behind the next pillar. Immediately numerous shots were fired from the other end towards him but being shielded by the pillar, he wasn’t hit.

Beyond the rumbling of the falling pieces of cement, he distinctly heard a magazine drop. Till then the knee which rested on the ground maneuvered itself into a standing position and the muzzle which kissed the ground turned in the direction of the magazine drop and began to emit fire in successive intervals and finally calmed down with smoke emanating from it.

‘Aye aye aye, you can’t kill me detective’, he heard a voice from the other end. He heard that voice before. ‘You aren’t gonna escape man’, saying this, a magazine dropped to the ground from his Beretta, and Johnny rushed towards him with full fury and had him on his knees.

‘As I have predicted, your life lies at my mercy now’ he said and Castor was on his knees with hands bound behind him. With a gun pointing towards his cranium, Castor knew that it was his last minute on earth. The trigger was pulled and there was some recoil.

‘Boom’ blasted a bullet out of his head and he fell onto the ground with a thud and blood started to ooze out from the wound.

LOCATION: FEDERAL COURT _

‘The sensational case is being aired live on TV and we are awaiting the judgement and so are you’ said a TV reporter.

‘Ever since Castor’ death, Johnny was never heard of. Many were of the opinion that Castor was Johnny’s last target and he would discontinue after killing Castor. In a cat and a mouse game that ensued after Johnny’s second kill, and which lasted for three years, we have a tragic end to the game, with Castor becoming the latest and probably the last victim of Johnny’ ,two weeks after Castor’s death the judge was hearing the case. In one of the most wildest and sensational breakthroughs, we have filed a case with evidence against a serial killer under homicidal charges for killing detective Castor, and we await orders to direct the police, FBI, CIA and the SWAT teams to nab the culprit, Mr. Justice’

Saying this, Drakes from the prosecution council sat down. The judge nodded and even before he picked the pen to deliver, ‘Mr. Justice, sorry for the delay but to come home with some hard earned facts isn’t very easy though’ interrupted Michael.

My dear colleague was correct till the fact that we need to nab Johnny, but he’s already dead. And the court hall sat in astounded silence.

‘Some kinda predictions, Mr. Michael’ chuckled Drakes. But Michael was in no mood for a counter and he proceeded towards the judge’s seat, ‘This is the documented evidence, the ballistic reports and circumstantial evidence, if you have a careful look at them, you will know one thing…’

‘At the place where there was an exchange of gunfire and the place where Castor died, two weapons were discovered. A Beretta supposed to be that of Castor and the other one that of Johnny. And the fingerprints on both the weapons were of the same person… Castor. Other than a few strands of hair and blood samples, no other circumstantial evidence was recovered and the DNA reports of all these confirm that there was only one guy in that place… detective Castor’

‘These ballistic reports confirm that Castor was shooting in all directions wildly. And finally this report from John Hopkins medical facility states that Castor was once admitted to the hospital for a neural disorder. Even before the treatment was complete, Castor discontinued his therapy’

‘What neural disorder?’ the judge intervened.

‘The split personality disorder….’

‘And if you look at all the reports at the crime scenes since last three years, it’s very evident that there is no Johnny, but Castor who doubled up as both. On the fateful day, he killed himself still under the delusion that his hidden self Johnny is killing detective Castor.’

‘And so Mr. Justice Castor and Johnny no longer exist and so the case supposedly stands dismissed’

‘No Johnny is still alive…..’

LOCATION: UNKNOWN BEACH _

At a distance of about 1000KM from the place where the live program was being aired, ‘no, Johnny is still alive. Just as I have predicted, you are responsible for your own demise….’ Looking at the detective’s photo, Johnny started to walk along the shoreline.

Pandora's book

2008-01-30T14:40:00.000+05:30

Pandora's box contained all the evils of mankind - greed, vanity, slander, envy, pining and hope. Zeus instructed Pandora not to open the box but she was too curious and opened it. After the jar was opened all of the evils escaped and, after the lid was replaced, only hope remained in the jar. Now what is Pandora’s book?

I was a teacher at a reputed school. Miss Camilla Arthur, they used to address me and I was supposedly one of the best teachers around until one day, when an accident towards the end of the year crippled me. I lost my job and for almost a year, I was bed ridden.

It was at that time when I discovered the writer in me. I started to write short stories. Most of them are published in major dailies, and a few more have been adapted into blockbuster Hollywood movies. But I have always wanted to write a masterpiece. In the quest for a new theme and peace of mind, I embarked on a journey to our family cottage.

The cottage is located deep within the woods, and I had to walk for a distance of about 4 KM into the woods. I parked my car at a nearby gas station and proceeded to walk on feet. It was late in the night when I had to light my torch and kept on walking. Suddenly a hard bound leather cover caught my attention. I picked it up and the title read, ‘The Pandora’s Book’ and I carried it along, to the cottage.

The same night under a reading lamp, I started to read the book. It was a manuscript but it was beautifully written. The very first lines read ‘This is the Pandora’s book. Don’t open the book and make the same mistake committed by Pandora’.

‘Crap..’ I thought and continued to read on for some time.

There was a party going on in the nearby farm house. It was so disturbing that I couldn’t sleep and so I picked up the axe and started to walk towards the place. They were more than surprised to see a woman approaching them, beautifully dressed but with an axe in the hand.

Holding the wooden part of the axe, with my fingers constantly gripping the handle and with one feet falling into the place from where I removed the other, I walked slowly like a cat and neared them.

With the curly locks falling over my face and head bent down, they were not able to see my face. One guy emptied the contents of the beer can onto my curly locks. And I raised my axe like a lumbar jack and ‘thud’ his headless body fell to the ground.

‘What the hell are you doing miss’, one guy shouted and was trying to pulling out a gun, when I sprang towards him with the axe and raised it with full fury from underneath him and he fell to the ground like an apple split into two halves.

One more guy ran up to me swirling a pen knife. Picking up two butcher knives, I moved left and turned right with my head still bent down and flung them across, which instantly made their way out of the guy’s neck and hit the wooden wall behind like flying darts.

Panic gripped the other fellas and a few of them were able to escape except for another brave guy who removed a revolver from his pocket and fired a shot at me. Luckily the bullet hit the mast head of my axe and the impulse almost made me drop the axe from my hand when it rotated vertically with the handle revolving across my palm and returned to the original position and I gripped it once again. I started to run away and suddenly turned back throwing the axe at full force onto the guy, and he hit the wall with the axe fixing him onto it, through his head.

I went close to him and picked up the axe and raised my head suddenly that my hair fell back and I started to laugh out loud, sadistically. In all 13 people were slain to death, and blood dripped slowly from the iron head of the axe and I walked back to the cottage.

‘Wonderful story of the spree killer, very gory though’ I thought as I closed the book and it was time for me to sleep, ‘let me continue with the story later on’

I was tossing and turning on the bed. I was unable to sleep as I have left the story unfinished. ‘Let me complete the story and then go to sleep’ I thought and walked back to the table to switch on the reading lamp, when my eye caught something interesting.

I was gripped in fear when I saw an axe lying in the corner of the room. Focusing the reading lamp, I looked around the room to find out if someone had sneaked in. As I went near the axe, I found that it was old and rusted and I heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Phew, must be an old axe lying around, man this story caught onto my nerves’ I smiled at my idiocy and proceeded towards the reading table.

I started to read the remaining part of the book. As I reached the last page, I was shocked to see a line. I ran my fingers over the page and felt the book. I pushed the table lamp and other things on the table and fell on my feet.

‘What’s there in the last page…’

‘What’s there in the last page Miss Camilla Arthur…’ One more question, I heard from behind. And the inanimate and mute audience in the class started discussing.

I pulled my locks back with one hand and said ‘It was signed, Camilla Arthur….’

And even before the entire class could come out of the shock and disbelief, I walked towards them with an axe in my hand…

The gate

2008-01-30T10:10:00.001+05:30

‘Look at the house overlooking the cemetery, it’s supposed to be haunted. The colonists built that bungalow and it housed many eminent personalities. With the decline of the colonial power, the house lost its glory and charm. The last of the occupants, Ms. Barthory was a supposedly a witch practitioner and under her rule hundreds of girls were tortured and murdered, the reasons unknown to this day. You see the graves over there, they are supposed to be of those dead girls’, saying this Sam sighed.

Tommy looked at me and said, ‘No wonder they call it the haunted house’ and Sam nodded and continued, ’This is your chance pal, sneak into the house, click snaps of all the rooms and then come back, we’ll admit that there are no ghosts’

‘But before that, a word of caution. Legend has it that anybody who goes into the house never returns. The ghoul of Ms. Barthory still haunts the house and enslaves them before finally killing them’

‘I just don’t believe in ghosts and spirits, remember I stayed all alone in the Westhoff cemetery last week, at night’ saying this, I started to move across the graveyard to the house.

I reached the gate and an address board read ’1001 Villa, Aston Street’. ‘That’s an odd number for a house address, very queer’ I thought.

I opened the gate and slowly walked inside. It is indeed creepy with few bats flying over and the full moon that shone over the central tower of the building. I jumped in fright when I heard a gong sound and I looked up. ‘God, it’s a clock on the tower’ wiping the sweat off me and proceeded towards the door.

The door was locked from outside and so I stepped down onto the garden to pick some stone to break it. When I turned back to the door, I could feel some hundreds of eyes watching me. I suddenly turned behind and there’s nothing but the graveyard.

‘Just my imagination coupled with the fright these guys have injected into me’ I told myself. There was a huge blow and it fell to the ground, the lock and I opened the latch and pushed the door open.

‘Creak….’ There was a big scraping sound and the flutter of bats which ensued after that, but slowly the creepiness was restored and the ambience was calm and silent once again. After hearing a lot to the honking of the cars and shoutings of the people in the city, silence seemed to be spooky, forget the existence of a ghost, the eerie milieu itself seemed to kill me out of fright.

As I walked into the house dusting the cobwebs I reached the stairs which divided into two with one running to the left and the other to the right. I just climbed the stairs to look at a portrait on the wall at the place where the stairs split into two.

As I approached the wall, I could lucidly see the portrait. It was of a beautiful woman of high nobility. Long hair, long nails and piercing looks, the portrait itself seemed to be very haunting. ‘Wonderful painting’, I thought as I ran my fingers over it. I could feel the cloth of the woman in the painting and distinctly I heard a girl laugh and I pulled back in fright.

And I started to run upstairs pretending to be brave, but in one corner of my heart I could sense the fright. Occasionally my body squirmed involuntarily and my pulse ran faster. As I reached the first floor of the building, the entire place was pitch black. The ground floor at least had the hearth where wood was burning and so there was light…

‘Oh my god, how was the wood burning? And I started to tremble in fear’ and I tread back slowly to see the hearth. There was nothing. ‘How did I manage to see the portrait, something’s wrong with this place, I need to get out of here’ and I removed the mobile from my pocket and pressed some key for light.

As I turned back I felt a cold wave pass across me and I saw a figure move across and my heart sank. There is definitely a negative force in this house. As I was about to walk further, I felt I was walking on a fluid when I bent down to see what it was. ‘It’s blood….’ And I was about to faint, when I felt some one lay his hand on me. With a shriek, I ran away from the place towards the stairs.

When I reached the stairs I could hear heavy thuds as if someone big was following me. Unable to withstand the fright I leaped and ran down the stairs and rushed to the door only to find that it’s not opening as if it has been locked from outside. I was pulling the door when a hand lay on my shoulders and I looked back in fright.

‘Tommy, what were you doing inside’ I asked him astounded by his presence.

‘Sam asked me to go with you and frighten you, but now, I myself see that the house is truly haunted’ saying this he fell onto the ground pronely. And there were nail scratches across his back as if somebody dug her nails deep into his back and he was bleeding heavily.

And I said my last prayers before I felt a stinging pain in my back…..

The next day Sam came searching for us with a few other friends of ours. When he was at the gate, he saw the address board at the gate.

It read ’1003 Villa, Aston Street’.

The perfect pattern

2008-01-29T11:03:00.001+05:30

Six days and six murders, a clean getaway, detective Reeves and his associate Summers have only one more day to apprehend the serial killer before he kills the seventh person on the seventh day and the pattern ends…

July 18th - Saturday.

‘Look at these pictures, all of them shot dead at point blank range, the victims have nothing in common, they comprise of both the sexes and of all ages, no clues and just 8 hours, I don’t see any hope’ Reeves was furious, pushing the papers and photos of the deceased off the table.

The previous day, he received a call from the serial killer stating that he would kill one more person on the last day to complete the pattern. Summers and Reeves knew that they need to prevent the murder else the doors to catch him are almost closed.

Suspect seven as he was called, started on a killing spree a week earlier. Each time he kills, he would call the police and confess. Six days have passed by without much progress and today is the last day. Time kept ticking down. The federal agency roped in the two best detectives to solve the mystery but on the last day.

‘Detective, I have killed six people till date and tomorrow’s my last day. After that, the pattern is done and so am I. After that you will never be able to catch me as I am gonna getaway with the perfect crime pattern’, and he hung up.

I have been thinking about the same since yesterday night. The voice was so cold, and his words are still ringing in my ears.

‘I got it’ Summers jumped in excitement, ‘I found his pattern…. Look at the dates. July 13th, the killings started, and see this. Reggie was killed on July 13th and he was born on July 13th. Murad was killed on July 14th and he was born on July 14th. He’s killing people on the days when they were born’

‘That means he’s gonna kill somebody born on July 19th, tomorrow. Excellent!!! Summers, let’s check the database for the people who were born on 19th July in this area and perhaps we may protect them thus failing the perfect crime pattern.’

30 minutes later, Summers was exalted and came running into my room. ‘I found our killer, sir’

‘What!!!’ I exclaimed.

‘Yes sir, at the third and fifth murder scenes, we have identified different blood samples along with that of the deceased, and both these samples are identical and the most appalling thing is that they belong to a person born on July 19th, and the only person living in the Bay Pay area’

‘You mean to say that the serial killer is the only person born on 19th and he wants to complete the pattern by killing himself………’ saying this I shivered in fright even as the hair on my skin stood out, as if I have been electrified. I was so damn excited.

‘What are we waiting for, let’s prepare an attack, and get the damn guy on his knees’ said Summers.

‘Look at this map, this is the guy’s house, we under the cover of the SWAT team will break into his house and arrest him. We’ll have two teams, one attacking from the front led by me and the other from the rear led by Summers’ I told summers and the SWAT team. ‘Under any cost, we are not gonna kill or let him kill himself and complete the pattern, I repeat ….’

July 19th - Sunday.

Two police cars and one SWAT van have arrived at the place in the early hours of 19th July, Sunday. Even as I was preparing the team for an assault from the front door, Summers and team have already gained entry through the back door.’

‘Please drop your weapons men, and don’t shoot!!! Drop your weapons’ I cried out loud, as we forced our entry through the front door. I saw Summers being held captive at point blank range by our man. With one gun pointing at Summers head and the other pointing at his own, we had to jump into a defensive strategy.

‘Man, just listen, please don’t shoot yourself. This is really stupid of you to kill yourself and complete the pattern. Instead hand over the gun to Summers and we will walk away, with you unhurt’ I shouted out loud.

‘You can call me Jack, detective. It’s a great pleasure to meet you and Summers here. Do you think I am stupid enough to fall for your counseling? I am almost on the verge of completing my pattern and you say that I should quit’ saying this he removed the gun pointed at him and fired a shot. And that hit me in my chest. Even as the SWAT were ready to take him down, I made a sign not to.

‘Don’t you see this as a trap detective, have your stress filled nights made you forget that you were also born on the 19th of July’ and my heart started to beat faster.

‘So it’s me who he’s wanted, he’s not gonna kill himself but he’s gonna kill me’ I looked at him in distraught agony.

‘No detective’, Jack shouted, ’But that is not my pattern you see, you are not my target’ saying this he pulled the trigger of the gun pointed towards Summers and he collapsed onto the ground.

And the SWAT team swung into action putting him down and nabbed him as they din’t have orders to shoot.

‘Summers was only correct till the fact that Jack killed people based on the dates but Jack killed people based on dates as well as days. The first victim Reggie was born on July 13th, Monday and the second victim Murad on July 14th, Tuesday and so on’

‘The first mistake Summers did was, he checked the birth list of the people born in Bay Pay. The second mistake, he never told me that he was also born on July 19th, and the biggest mistake that cost him his life. Summers was born on a Sunday….’

The assassin theory

2008-01-28T12:33:00.000+05:30

‘Assassinate Rodriquez at Kremlin square, say your price and we’ll pay you the amount. No more questions’ said the voice from this end of the phone. It was Mikhail, the internal affairs minister.

‘What shall we address you as?’

‘You can call me K-43, Agent K-43 and my payment is $ 1 million’

‘That’s too much an asking price’

‘Rodriguez is an imminent person of national prominence. You need to kill, you make the deal. That’s my theory’ snapped the assassin from the other end of the phone. There was silence for a while.

‘I will take that silence as an assertion. The payment will be done via internet. Once the amount gets credited to my account, I get an SMS, and the next minute your request will be initiated and completed according to the compliance’ and the assassin hung up the phone. Silence ruled the ambience again.

13-DEC-07. KREMLIN SQUARE

K-43 was there at the venue the previous night making his calculations. He knew that it’s impossible to kill Rodriguez once he reaches the dais. His car too is bullet-proof, and my bullet cannot penetrate the huge security cover. ‘But yes, I do have my theory’ he thought.

Rodriguez has just arrived to attend the public gathering. He got down from the car amidst heavy security canopy. Armed personal accompanied him to the dais mantled with a bullet proof glass.

He then picked up the lady, his favourite one, the Raufoss MK 211 .50 caliber automatic sniper. A target as far as 10,000 feet can be shot with a .025 mm precision. He kissed the weapon and lied on the floor aiming the weapon at the meeting place, looked at his watch and slowly swayed his head towards the telescope. His right eyelid dropped dead as his index finger closed in on the trigger. Adjusting the focus of the telescope, he could see Rodriguez covered by the security guards.

Just as Rodriquez emerged onto the dais, K-43 pulled the trigger.

‘Boom….’

There was a sound.

(.011millisec)The bullet entered into (.012ms) the head of Rodriguez (.013ms) piercing through the (.014ms) anterior lobe (.014ms) and continued through the cerebrum (.015ms) and emerged from the posterior (.016ms) after drilling a hole in the cranium (.017ms) and blood started to ooze out of it (.018ms) and splashed the rear of the bullet proof glass. Rodriguez fell to the ground much to the stupefaction of the onlookers.

The security guards looked in the direction of the bullet shot. All they could see was the Kremlin tower at a distance of 4 KM. Even before they could reach the place, their assassin would have skedaddled the place.

10,000 feet away from the incident place, something else was running in another brain. ‘I reached the place yesterday night as a routine security guard with my men, removed the bullet proof glass and placed a normal glass….’

And there was a smile on the assassin’s face.

21-DEC-07. REMOTE HAWAII ISLAND

A guy was on his knees with another one behind him holding a gun pointed to his head at point blank range. As he slowly emerged to the front, he spoke.

‘After my instructions are carried out, I seldom leave the assassin standing on earth. It has been a pleasure working with you Mr. Agent K-43, but on the contrite side, this is the last minute you will be inhaling. This is my theory!!’

‘Boom’, Mikhail pulled the trigger and K-43 dropped to the ground with a hole in the cranium made by the .303 bullet from the Beretta, and Mikhail pushed the body prone and walked across the dead body.

31-DEC-07. LOCATION UNKNOWN

‘Who are you and why do you want to kill me?’ Mikhail was on his knees, ‘if you want money, I can give you the dollars, but please spare my life’

The silencer was aimed at the posterior part of the skull and Mikhail was shivering out of fright. A droplet of water fell on the ground splat, and it dint take much time for Mikhail to understand that it was his tears. Slowly from behind him emerged a silhouette, still pointing the gun to Mikhail’s head.

‘Don’t you remember my voice, don’t you remember the way you shot me dead at Hawaii…’ said the voice. And boom there was a sound and Mikhail fell to the ground, and lay dead in a pool of blood in a few seconds.

‘The K-43 is not a single person, but an institution of look-alike assassins. You have assaulted one, the others have come to take revenge. This is the most secretive assassin brotherhood ever living on this planet and the best assassin K-43, that’s me, that’s him and him and him’

And from behind him 4 more assassins emerged. They all looked similar.

‘This is my theory, the assassin theory!!!!’

The post-mortem

2008-01-28T12:23:00.000+05:30

‘I slowly cut across the back making an incision along the spine from the neck to the bottom end of the spine with the mechanical saw’

‘creak…’ there was a sound. ‘What’s that?’, the duty doctor and my in-charge questioned me. ‘Nothing sir, the saw cut through the bone'

‘Just that you don’t know how to work upon anything, this isn’t your first time. You have made numerous mistakes in the past. Now you have messed up with the circumstantial evidence also. I have warned you to be careful with this body as the police needed some post mortem analysis regd. the death of this girl and now we see that you have tampered with the evidence’ doctor Nell was furious with me.

‘I am sorry doc..’ I tried to explain, ‘I have been working for three days continuously on the post mortem analysis, look at the bodies over there, I have worked fine on them…’

‘Just shut up…. And get out of here’ shouted the doc.

I was the best anatomy doc in my batch. My fellow batch mates used to be mesmerized with the way I used to cut across the specimens. They called me Mr. Anatomist for obvious reasons. And now .…

I will show Dr. Nell what perfect post mortem means.

That night I reached Dr. Nell’s apartment. ‘Ding dong’, the bell rang, and the doctor opened the door. ‘What is it Gary, you are here at wrong time?’

‘No Dr. Nell, I am here at the right time’ he thought and said ‘You have to come with me doc’

‘But where?’

‘To see how I do the post mortem…’ I said and hit on Dr. Nell’s head with an iron rod lying nearby and he fell to the ground. I lifted his body on my shoulders and walked to my car. I then opened the back door and lay his body on the rear seat, and started to drive to the hospital.

Seeing that nobody was there around, I parked my car, pulled the doc’s body out and laid him on the wheel chair. In 2 minutes I was at the post mortem room.

I slowly laid his body on the examination table. Then I walked to the door and ‘clutch’ I bolted the latch from inside. Walking towards the other end of the room where the tools are placed, I picked the mechanical saw and the scalpel, and a book, to take the notes.

I plugged in the saw and ‘grrr…..’ it’s started to run. I walked towards the examination table.

‘I cut across the clothes with a scissors and then took the scalpel in my left hand and held with my index finger and thumb holding the skin apart and started to make an incision across the chest. Blood started to ooze out from the cut open part, and I wiped it with a cloth and continued. After making an incision throughout the entire length of the thoracic region, I slowly removed the skin and flesh and took the saw in my hand dropping the scalpel. And then started to cut across the ribs'

‘The rib cage is one of the strongly bound portions of the human body’ I told myself and left the scalpel and the saw on the table and pulled apart the rib cage. After opening the ribs, I cut the arteries and veins, then pulled out the heart in my hands which were full of blood. The heart was still beating and I cried out loud ‘This is how you do post mortem … And that too of a live specimen…….’

The next day police were at the hospital to collect their evidence. The mobile of Dr. Nell rang and he suddenly woke up with a jerk. There was a stinging pain in his skull. Moving one hand over it, he pressed the green button and a voice said, ‘doc, where are you? ...’

The doc looked around, hysterically. His vision was blurred for a minute, but he managed to reach the door and opened it. By the time the police have reached the place and sneaked into the room.

There was blood all around.

‘Sergeant, look at this book’ and Sergeant bent down and lifted the book even as blood dripped from it. The sergeant leafed through the first page and read it out loud.

‘In the history of medical science, this is perhaps the first ever time, a post mortem was conducted on a live human being. And this book contains the descriptions in detail….’

Not far away from the place was the body of Gary lying in a pool of blood with his rib cage opened and the heart in his hand.

And the last of the pages of the book read, ‘I am the Anatomist … and this is the post mortem report of myself…’

The Trauma

2008-01-25T18:11:00.000+05:30

Every year more than a lakh people are killed in road accidents. With the advent of technology, the accident rate hasn’t reduced, but drastically increased. Accidents not only claim the lives of the victims but also are very painfully traumatic to the families of the deceased.

'Driving is my passion’ I always used to say this.

'Have you ever heard the euphonious rattling of your car when you drive it faster than the rate at which adrenaline is pumped? Have you ever felt the response time tick in your eyes as your car throttles in its untold vanity? Does your four-chambered heart pump like the pistons in your 16-cylinder engine?’

And so on, I would ask umpteen questions to myself.

But on this fateful day, which partially crippled me below the spine, I never knew that it would be my last stint in the driving seat. As usual I was racing on the Jubilee road, when a small kid appeared from nowhere, and I pulled the handbrakes, but the dynamics of motion kept it going. Leaving a trail of skid marks across the road, I jumped the divider and rammed into a vehicle coming in the opposite lane.

I didn’t remember what happened after that. I didn’t even know what happened to the occupants of the vehicle into which I crashed.

For six months, I was equivalent to a dead man, lying on the bed. I could hardly fathom things happening around me. It was the most difficult period to be construed. If I saw doctors at one time, the other time I saw police. My mommy would occasionally sit by my side, clasp my hand, and lay her head on it. Tears would roll down her eyes and this wetness would awaken me.

‘What happened to the other vehicle?’ I would ask my mom quiescently. Tears rolled from my eyes inadvertently and she would wipe my tears, without saying anything.

It was only after 9 months after the accident, I overheard one conversation when I came to know that a family was in the car, a man and his pregnant wife and both died on the spot.

That devastated me.’ I will never forgive myself’ I always thought, ‘I have ruined one family because of my mistake’

Within a year, I was able to walk with the help of crutches, but nevertheless my morality was crippled for life. I couldn’t even look at my hands to wipe my tears, they stunk of the murders. I was enervated by the post accident trauma.

I wanted to meet their family and beg pardon from them. I knew it wouldn’t be that easy for them, but their clemency would at least reduce the burden on my heart.

I reached their home. The ambience was dreary and gloomy. I slowly trampled along the fallen leaves on the path, pushing myself with the crutches and reached the door.

‘Knock… knock…’ no one answered.

‘Hello, anybody there?’ Nobody answered.

Noting that the door was open I pushed it slowly and it creaked open. I looked around. The whole house was gloomy. Cobwebs on the ceiling, lots of dust on the floor. Seems like no one has cleaned the house since a very long time.

There was an old man sitting on a rocking chair. He turned towards me for a second and looked at me, and then dropped dead onto the ground. I kneeled down close to him and tried to feel his pulse. It was cold. He breath his last.

Suddenly I heard a voice from inside. A low wail.

‘It’s coming from this direction’ and I walked apprehensively towards the bedroom. I was shocked to see the events that followed after.
An old woman was weeping with the portrait in her hands. I moved a little further but hearing the sound of the crutches, she looked towards me. I was about to say something before she pulled out a can from her side. Her sharp looks pierced me for a second before she emptied the can onto herself. I was so startled by this move of hers, that even before I could recover from the jolt, she lit a match and set herself ablaze.

And I rushed out of the room to call someone for help and I saw one girl running into another room. I was trying to push myself as quickly as possible with the crutches. I reached the room; she stared at me before she took out a blade and slashed her wrists. Even before I could reach her, she fell onto the bed.

I reached the hall once again to call the emergency service, but…..

The next morning police arrived at the house.

‘Detective Andy, we found these two papers lying down there. One of them is an old newspaper dating almost a year back and the other a note’

Detective Andy opened the newspaper and read out the news, ‘... And the old parents and their girl, unable to bear the loss of their son killed themselves in distress …’

And the note looked like a suicide note. It read ‘… And so I am committing suicide!!!!’

The Thirteenth motive

2008-01-24T17:11:00.000+05:30

Thirteen is regarded as an unlucky number in many countries. Fear of the number 13 is termed triskaidekaphobia. In crime too, 13 finds a special place.

‘They call him Parry “Dexter” Priest. His bludgeoning chop-logic moves can be comparable only to that of a grandmaster. By far, he has terrorized the Bay Passat neighborhood with his murderous puzzles and treacherous killings’ Sarah arguing against the defense counsel, paused for a moment. There was drop dead silence in the jam-packed court hall.

‘Mr. Justice, this man has executed 13 cold blooded murders with meticulous perfection. Under his resplendent face and innocuous looks, lies a malicious cutthroat. On the ill-fated day of 13th August, 1996, he butchered 16 people.’

‘The records and evidences speak the truth. So without further arguments, Mr. Justice, I request you to punish the devil’ and she turned to her seat and looked at the defense counsel.

‘Your Honour, the dear prosecutor has mentioned the facts. It is very much true that Parry killed 16 people, the reasons were unknown to this day’ when everybody burst into laughter.

‘You are in the defense box’ chuckled Sarah from behind.

‘But….’

‘But his psychiatrist Dr. Roberts has something to say in this regard. May I, with your kindest permission …’

The judge nodded in affirmation and an old man rose.

‘There wouldn’t be a ground for somebody to commit a murder other than the following widest possible reasons, spanning over social, economic, physical, psychological and biological considerations.

1.Depressive
2.Psychotic
3.afflicted with organic brain disorder
4.psychopathic
5.passive aggressive
6.alcoholic
7.hysterical
8.juvenile (the child was the killer)
9.mentally retarded
10.sex killer
11.compassion
12.ritual

These are however, contained to the books of criminology. Your Honour let me introduce the “13th motive”. Possession. Though the rational world may rule this out, there are recorded cases in the past where similar incidents have taken place. My client, under the puissance of a negative force, perpetrated to this bloodshed.’

‘You must have heard of Willy, the famous serial killer of the 60’s. Please read these documents and medical reports regarding Willy.’

Willy is one of the most notorious serial killers, the world has ever seen. He would approach an unsuspecting victim and would pounce on his skull with his one inch long canine, and the victim supposedly dies. Willy was convicted of killing 13 people and was sentenced to 13 life terms. Later on Willy supposedly met a painful death when he was serving as a prisoner.’

‘What do we have to do with Willy?’ the federal judge asked with a distraught smile.

Dr. Roberts continued, ‘The evidences produced, the recordings of Parry etc. all confirm one thing. Please do have a look at these old photos of Willy. He always had a peculiar grin on his face, and he would show his left canine which is an inch longer than the normal which he himself called, the Devil’s Grin.’

‘These photos of Willy would confirm the same.’

Again Sarah interrupted, ‘Parry is copying Willy’s pattern. He‘s inspired by his killings’

‘Now, this was a confidential matter and was never made public. Moreover, my client neither met Willy nor read anything related to him’ said Dr. Roberts.

‘Please go through these photos and video recordings. You can clearly see the influence of Willy on Parry, particularly the Devil’s grin.’

Sarah interrupted ‘You mean to say, Parry was possessed by the ghost of Willy?’

‘I don’t need to say more about this case I guess. At the culmination of this argument, I would request you to acquit my client of these murders for the above said reasons’ said Dr. Roberts looking at the judge.

There was absolute silence in the court hall following these proceedings. Everybody in the hall were awaiting eagerly the sensational judgement.

And he looked at defense counsel and grinned, winking his eye, as if they won the case.

The judge gave a deeper look at Parry, and finally pronounced his judgement.

‘Going by the criticality and the inconclusiveness of the case, I want Parry to be under the psychiatrist’s care for a year, and this case be studied conclusively, and I acquit him of all the charges against him as alleged by the prosecution counsel’

Sarah stood in shock after hearing the judgement, but was even more shocked to see the Devil’s grin on Dr. Roberts and the defense lawyer.

‘Mr. Justice, please for a second, look at them….’, when the judge turned back and Sarah screamed in fright. He had the Devil’s grin too.

Sarah ran out of the court hall and made it to the road. She immediately called for a taxi, and pulled opened the door latch stepping into it.

‘Where do you wanna go, Ma’am?’

‘Hmm… to the Paradise Square’ she answered scratching her nail against her canine.

The driver was looking at her through the rear view mirror, ‘Your left canine, that’s big’

She smiled and looked at him. ‘So is yours’!!!!’

The Race

2008-01-23T14:09:00.000+05:30

‘When do you feel the best adrenaline rush? ……’

‘When you are on a roller coaster ride, when paragliding or bungee jumping?’

I looked at Michael and thrust the beer can towards him. He pressed open the flap and the beer started oozing out under the pressure.

‘I feel it like this when I race my car at 150kmph’

‘Hey good idea dude, why don’t we race tonight?’

‘You will lose’ I told him, ‘No, you will lose Tommy’ chucking the empty beer can at me.

11:30 PM, Jubilee road
‘The weather is wonderful tonight, with no signs of any rain, and most ideal conditions for a race. And here comes Tommy, most respected driver and a loser’ Mikheal winked.

‘Man, this Michael is a bloody … got to beat the ass’ rolling his eyes, he told himself.

‘Mick, take care that the police don’t catch hold of you’

‘Don’t worry pal, I have removed my number plate, and request you to do the same, even in case they are behind us, we should sneak into some smaller roads, no problem, we can escape’

11:45 PM, Jubilee road
‘I have synchronized both our clocks. When the time strikes 11:50, we are gonna start. We will race around the KBR Park. Three laps in all. And the first one to reach this point is the winner and remember, no crisscrossing or blocking the paths as it might prove to be very dangerous’

‘Done!!! ’ I told him tightening my shoe lace.

The race was about to start. I looked at Mick and he was already too excited. I prayed to god, as the clock ticked slowly to 11:50 and so did my heart which started pounding.

‘On your mark, get set….’ Mick shouted at the top of his voice, and his engine already roared with the wheels running up the revs and lots of smoke emanating from the static tyres.

11:50 PM, Jubilee road
‘…GO….’ And his Octavia throttled to a flying start reaching 40 kmph in just 3 seconds flat and my Civic followed him closely reaching 50 kmph in just 4 seconds flat.

With both the cars on a very close trail, I knew it isn’t gonna be a very easy one as I had imagined.

Within 15 seconds from the start we were cruising at 100 kmph each, with my car in lead for the first few seconds and then his car. Side by side we looked at each other.

The cars raced to 120 kmph in another 5 seconds.

And then I shifted to the top gear, and pressed on the accelerator, releasing the clutch. Mick dint lose anytime. Still in his fourth gear he climbed to a top notch 130kmph and was in an impregnable state. As my car raced to 130kmph, I saw Mick grooving to approx. 140kmph and he just flew by me.

The trees and the lamp posts seemed to move back in a hurry. ‘Man, this was the best adrenaline rush I could ever have’, I told myself ‘Thanks old pal’

As I increased my speed to 150kmph, I could see two ambers trying to get blown down. Mick’s car is in the visible horizon. And I pressed on the gas, gripping the wheel. His Octavia seemed to respond slowly at this speed and I was closing on him.

In another 30 seconds, I almost caught him, and was driving by his side, parallely. I turned towards him and he pointed out to me something. Setting back my gaze on the road, I could see a vehicle parked on my linear path at about 100 meters. I removed my feet off the accelerator and pressed hard the brake pedal hard and pulled the hand brake.

11:55 PM Birmingham road
My car came to a screeching halt, before I saw Mick showing his finger to me and dashing off at full throttle.

‘Phew, that was damn close, and damn, I lost the race’

Without much thinking I again raced my car along the road, hoping to find Mick. But I never saw him till I completed my first lap.

12:15 AM Birmingham road
In the second lap, I again saw his car, and with revived vitality, I raced my car.

120… 140… 160… and the engine was rattling like hell, and I suddenly cut across the lane and overtook Mick.

I showed him my finger then, when I saw an intense beam of light coming in my direction and then ………

The next day, newspaper reports read “Two unidentified young men were killed in two separate road accidents. It seemed that they were racing against each other when one of them in an Octavia lost control at approx. 11:55 PM and the other, a Civic was hit by a speeding truck at approx. 12:15 AM….”

The fright-night

2008-01-22T17:48:00.000+05:30

Four days back, I was on the way to a far off place from the city. I had to leave at 11:00 PM in the night because of some unforeseen circumstances. But I love to drive at this time. The cool breeze blows onto you face when you drive, the lucid sky overlooks your car, the clear moon dimly lit the road ahead of me and ofcourse the trees alongside the road danced in their wilderness.

And all of a sudden clouds emerged from nowhere and the calm and the serenity is robbed by the ‘rat-a-tat-a-tat’ of the rain drops. In a few minutes the rain gathered momentum and converted into a torrential downpour.

This is a country road and so there aren’t many vehicles plying on it. Except for the beam of the headlights, I can’t even see a source of light in the visible horizon, coupled with the rain which reduced the visibility to zero.

Just then I saw a car overtaking me from my left. I could distinctly see a woman inside that car struggling. Smelling a rat, I followed that car for some distance before I lost it. When I started to wonder where I’ve lost them, I saw two red lights glowing like ambers in the dark at some distance. I pulled over and opened my door, slowly approached the car, which seemed to have hit a tree.

With a crow bar in my hand, I was ready for the situation. Suddenly a woman started running from behind the car and a huge man emerged from her behind.

‘Hey’ I called out and both of them looked back. Losing no time, I threw the crowbar at the big guy. He bent down apprehensive of my action, evading the tool, but the girl lost no time in catching hold of the crowbar.

The next minute the man was dead, lying down in a pool of blood.

‘Thanks for saving my life’, she told me, giving me back the crowbar ‘This guy picked me up from the city and tried to molest me on the way, as my actions proved futile, he tied me up and was driving away from the city. God knows what would have happened to me, particularly after these series of incidents when guys are picking girls and molesting them, raping them’

She was very beautiful with silver streaks on her gold toned hair. Her hair locks mesmerized me. ‘Nah, that was my pleasure’, and I walked towards the body and turned him. ‘Man, he’s Nathuram, I said, the murderer who’s killed 6 victims’

‘Let’s leave this place’ she said, ’Clean up all the evidence and don’t forget to pick the crowbar’.

I looked at her in dismayed astonishment, when she cleared her belongings from the big guy’s car. Just as I was about to pick my crowbar, I noticed a deep cut on his neck. I grew a bit suspicious.

‘What’s that’ I asked her pointing to the cut, and she replied that she was trying to free herself when he was hurt in the squabble.

Both of us started to walk towards my car, and she opened the rear door saying that she needs to sleep for some time. I started my car and after moving for some distance I could see in the rear view mirror, the girl getting up and holding a piece of string in her hand.

Even before I could turn back, she came close enough to me, from the behind and pulled the string over my neck and started to strangle me. I was almost gasping for breath, when I passed another car, and it started to follow me.

‘Press on the gas, dear, I will ensure its smooth’ she came close to my ears and whispered and suddenly pulled the string hard. I couldn’t do anything but to press on the accelerator.

Now, everything ran before my eyes, I could see her strangulating Nathuram, and I could see myself following their car.

‘What an idiot, I am’ I scolded myself for falling into her trap, and very soon I was gasping to breathe and the world turning dizzy in front of me, and I couldn’t hold the steering wheel for long.

‘Man, this is my last minute …....’

The next day I woke up with a jerk.

‘Phew,’ I thought.

And I walked into the garage and opened the boot of the car.

‘There you go… a new addition to my collection’, I said, running my fingers through the golden coloured locks and pulling out the body!!!!!

The Storyteller I

2008-01-18T13:08:00.000+05:30

Vitreous humour is the clear gel that fills the space between the lens and the retina of the eyeball. The retina is the part of the eye that sees the images which are conveyed to the brain with the help of the optic nerve fiber bundle.

‘No Sam, this isn’t great. I need an enthralling storyline, not a quondam story retold in a disparate style’ hollered Mike in front of all the unit members. Sam was terribly discomposed and it was time for him to egress.

‘You can proceed with your story, Jane’ Mike reclined back on his chair, closed his eyes and focused his attention on Jane’s recital.

‘I will be back, very soon with a more embellishing narration’ thought Sam and left the place.

The same night, Sam reached Mike’s apartment nicknamed ‘The Domes’ but was surprised to find Jane narrating her story to Mike. ‘Jane, the enchantress has Mike in her narrative grip’ thought Sam.

There was a torrential downpour and the rather murky ambiance is often disturbed by the sudden jolts of lightning. The door was slowly pushed and it creaked open. The occupants of the room suddenly shivered under the cold wind, and they turned towards the door to see who opened it. At the door, was a tall and a hefty man about 60 years old. His pants were torn and tattered and he held a shovel in one hand.

Far across the distance, there was a lightning strike, and the occupants could see the man’s face. His eyes were glowing like red ambers and he pushed open the door. This unprecedented move made the occupants run haywire and the old man walked into the room heaving the shovel in all directions like a madman and it hit the male occupants on his head from behind. A sudden hemorrhage occurred and blood rushed through the optic fibre, gushed into the vitreous chamber through the blind spot and filled the otherwise transparent vitreous humour, rendering it red. He’s become unconscious soon and fell to the ground with a thud.

The old man put his leg on the fallen man’s back and had the shovel digging into his back, and was holding the girl’s hair with his other hand lest she would escape. He pulled the girl towards the shovel and lifted the girl and banged her onto the top of the shovel.

‘Creak’ there was a sound and the girl’s spine broke. Under the weight of the girl, the front end of the shovel dug deep into the man lying on the ground, and that was all.

The hue and cry dissolved into thin air with the sound of thunder dominating the milieu once again.

‘Stop it’ Sam cried. And even before Jane could finish her narration, Sam rushed into the apartment heaving the door wide open and pulled out the shovel from behind and hit Mike on the back of his skull and heaved Jane onto the shovel breaking her spine.

‘Yes, and the old man now appears as a youngster and he goes on a carnage spree killing all the inmates of the Domes apartment owned by Mike. My story is better’, he winked at Jane, and left the place.

Two days later, Sam left the town and he was staying in a hotel. He heard a door bell ring and opened the door.

The next day morning, Police arrived at his place of stay following the hotel owner’s complaint that a bad smell was emanating from the room in which Sam was staying. Sam was murdered in cold blood and this created a sensation. When the detective inquired about any odd events or queer looking people seen in that area, eye witnesses were reported to have seen a man with red eyes as if they were filled with blood and a woman who was having a bent back.

‘Detective, we found something in the room; you got to see this’ called out the local policeman who was searching for clues.

The detective rushed to the room and found a piece of paper. He opened the paper from which blood was dripping and it was written, “My story is even better!!!!”

The Storyteller II : Is my story gory

2008-01-18T12:57:00.000+05:30

This is the sequel to my work ‘The storyteller’. However, this work contains lot of gore and descriptive bloodshed which I couldn’t avoid. If you are easily disturbed by such scenes or descriptions, you should rather avoid reading this story.

‘Your story is very gory. The concept is wonderful but it scared the shit out of me. It’s so damn gory’ said Mike. Sam looked at Mike in distraught anger. It was seen in his eyes but Mike could feel the searing looks. Sam shook his head, slowly in affirmation and left the place.

‘Sammy, wonderful Sammy, I just loved your story’ Jane jumped onto him kissing all over. ‘But why so much gore? Considering the sensitivity of major part of the audience you should have written something as horrifying as this, but a lesser bloodshed would have absolutely made it a classic.

Sam threw her off him and walked away flustered.

‘Why are people not able to appreciate my work? Did I write it’s as gorier as they have said? ...’ All these thoughts were running through Sam’s mind.

‘You people don’t appreciate my work, instead you all say that it’s gory, I will show you what goriness means. I will show you what horror means’ thought Sam.

In frantic rage he pushed the things off the table breaking the glass. Tears flowed from his eyes like pearls cascading down.

‘I have really written a masterpiece, the best of my stories so far. Yes, I am not going to leave anyone of them. They have awakened the monster inside me’ he speculated.

‘I am the horrormeister, I am the best’, he shouted out loud.

It was night 9 ‘O clock. There was a dense fog making his vision hazy. He could hear a faint voice from behind.

‘Sam… Sam…’ and he looked behind. He turned back and could see behind the mist, indistinctly a woman. Jane was running to catch up with him. She neared him.

Sam slowly removed a butcher’s knife from underneath his shirt. Just as Jane, tried to hug him, he dug the knife deep into her stomach.

She cried in pain. ‘Sammy, no Sammy…..’ even before she could complete, Sam turned the knife while it was still in her stomach. The pain was excruciating for Jane. Sam pulled her towards him and pushed the knife a little harder into her. He then pulled the knife vertically downwards with brute force. This tore her abdomen and he pulled out the knife. The intestines poured out of her tummy with lots of blood forcing its way out of the body. With a gentle push she fell down with her back facing him. He then lifted one of his legs and pressed the spinal cord with his feet. He then bent down and held her legs and then pulled them up.

‘Creak’ there was a sound and the spinal column broke under the force. And then he kicked the body as it was obstructing his path.

He then continued to walk to ‘The Domes’ where Mike lived. ‘Ding dong’ the bell rang and Mike on seeing Sam, opened the door.

‘Sam, what’s all this blood on your clothes, what have you done Sam, what happened? ....’ even before Mike could finish his conversation; he could see a wicked grin on Sam’s face. He understood what could have happened.

‘You killed Jane, Sam… you killed her…’ Even before Mike could say anything, Sam pushed Mike onto the ground with a lot of force. He lifted the shovel that was lying around and heaved it heavily onto Mike’s neck, tearing apart the body from the head. Even while Mike’s body lay down in blood and was still shaking under the pain, Sam hit Mike’s skull that it forced the neck bone to break and the skull flew in the air spilling blood all over the place.

Sam then put his feet on Mike’s severed head and looked into his blood red eyes, and then walked across it, stamping the skull which crushed under his weight.

Suddenly Sam woke up with a jerk. ‘Man, horrible nightmare’, he thought and he walked towards the bathroom to wash his face.

As he was trying to pour water on his face, a chill ran down the spine as his hands were smeared with blood.

And he looked at the mirror and winked to himself, ‘Do you think my story was still gory????’

The Storyteller III : The Darkest Souls

2008-01-17T15:13:00.000+05:30

Baltimore state prison is the house to the famous convicts of all time. Notable of them is Dr. Hannibal Lecter, the psycho psychiatrist who turned into a cannibal, based on a series of incidents in his life, which have changed his life forever.

Sam was convicted of first degree murder and he would serve four life terms without payroll by the federal court. This sensational murderer was then shifted to the Baltimore state prison.

One welcome sign caught Sam’s attention. It said, “The darkest souls who live among us, have the softest corner in their hearts”

‘Sam, you are the sweetest person I have ever met, I love you with the whole of my heart’ looking into his eyes and clasping his palm, Vennela told him. Sam was studying in Minneapolis when he met Vennela from India, for the first time.

It was love at first sight for Sam. He’s moved with many girls, all of them touched his skin, but no one could touch his heart. Beyond the depths of the pericardium lies the secret to his heart and Vennela seemed to hold the key for it.

‘My heart can’t lie to me. My eyes won’t show me the wrong girl. God, she’s my girl’ he was always seen saying this to his friends. For an year he was behind her before she actually realized how important Sam was for her.

‘Vineela… Vineela…’ Sam used to call her as he couldn’t pronounce her name properly. Vennela would tap him on his head correcting her name, and Sam would burst into laughter saying ‘Vineela’ again.

‘I have seen a lot in my life… Vineela… I have seen the smile of the cutest baby girl, I have seen a tiger cub being nursed by a cat, I have seen the flowers blossom from buds into their beautiful state, I have seen the beauty in the nature’s transitions in day and night, but….’

‘But they are not as beautiful as your smile. They are no way comparable to the love you have bestowed upon me. If at all there is a reason for the nature’s creations, then you are born for me’

‘I love you, Vennela’, he shouted from the hilltop.

‘And you learned to spell my name???’

‘Cos, I love you’, Sam winked at her.

He then held her hand. Days together they walked hand in hand. The sun would cool his temper so that they are not discomforted. The moon would become even more cold so that they could feel the warmth of love. The blades of grass would lie down flat, so that it wouldn’t hurt them when they lie down. The birds would sing joyous songs in their praise and the squirrels seemed to dance to their love tunes.

Life was so beautiful for them. The sun and the moon eagerly awaited their turn to look at this beautiful pair. Finally one day ….

‘I am from a very traditional family, Sammy, my parents are very orthodox. They won’t agree for our marriage, it’s better that you forget me’ Vennela said when she was leaving Minneapolis after the completion of her course.

The sea of separation seemed to sweep away his castle of love, but Sam isn’t ready to allow that to happen.

‘I will come to India with you. I will make you parents agree for our marriage, and I will stay with you. Whatever you say, I will do but please don’t leave me and go. I never want to be alone here after; it will be very tough for me. I have spent all my life facing problems and troubles, atleast now I wanna spend the rest of my life in peace and love on, which I never had since a child’

‘Sam, you have been very sweet to me, I have lived my life to the fullest extent, and you were the reason for it. I wish I could become your wife, and spend the rest of my life’

Vennela came close to Sam and kissed him on his forehead. Sam’s heart sunk deep into the depths of heart’s tranquility.

There was lot of silence in the room. Tears started to flow from Jane’s eyes. Mike was sitting speechless.

Jane held Sam’s hand and said, ’I always thought you narrated gore. But ….’

Sam winked at her wiping his tears ‘The darkest souls who live among us, have the softest corner in their hearts!!!!!’

The Storyteller IV : Sam - The butcher

2008-01-16T11:33:00.000+05:30

Love turns man into a monster. Love awakens the darkest and deepest evil inside you. I was a man once, so humane, but not anymore.

Written on the walls of the Baltimore state prison in one of the chambers where not even sunlight is allowed to pass through.

‘There sir, you can find Sam, be careful, he’s very dangerous’

‘Thank you’, said Dr. Mikheal who was accompanied by detective Janus. Dr. Mikheal was a psychiatrist at the facility centre, and the renowned detective Janus was investigating the murders at ‘The Domes’

‘Aah.. There you are Mike and Jane…’ Sam looked at them.

‘Why does he refer us with his slain friend names?’ whispered Janus to Mikheal. Mikheal moved close to her ears and said ‘Certain psychopaths have the tendency to refer people with the names of his slain victims. They then justify their misdeeds infront of these people, and hence providing us deeper insights into the killings and the reasons behind them. Moreover, our names are pretty close to that of the victims, no wonder he addresses us that way’

Detective Janus shook her head.

‘Hey Sam boy, how are you doing?’

‘I am fine Mike. Wassup with u?’

‘This is detective Janus, Sam’

‘Yes, I do know her, How are u Jane?’

Janus looked at Mikheal and Mikheal nodded his head. She turned to him and said, ‘I am fine Sammy’

‘So, what are the reasons behind you killing Mike and Jane….’

‘Vennela….’ he started to narrate the story….

At the end of it, Janus was in tears and held his hand. ‘I thought u always narrated gory stories…’

Mike suddenly popped up from his chair pulling Janus away from the bars whispering, ‘what are you doing miss, this is a kinda asylum for them, you are not supposed to touch him or his belongings.

‘I am sorry, Dr. Mikheal, I was so moved by his story’

‘And what happened to Vennela after that, Sam’ Dr. Mikheal looked at Sam and asked him. Sam started hymning a song and turned away from them.

‘He wouldn’t say it, think we should take him out and perhaps after seeing the fresh ambience after so many years, he would confront to us, his crimes’ Said Dr. Mikheal.

‘Perhaps, Baltimore state facility does offer such thing, but we need to do this under heavy security cover lest he might escape’ nodded Janus.

The next morning Sam was heavily chained in both his feet and hands. He walked out of the prison and his pupils initially had some difficulty in contracting themselves after being exposed to the light after a very long time.

He could smell the Indian flavor. For the first time he landed in India. ‘Great country this is’ he thought, ‘no wonder my Vennela is so good’. He made his way to her home. He was expecting her parents to retort and he was thinking of convincing them. Her parents were more than happy to receive him.

‘Son’ Vennela’s mom called him out and he could feel lots of love in her words. ‘We are happy, you are here. Arey suno jee.. kaun aaya dekho’ she yelled and Vennela’s dad has come.

‘Please be seated, son’ he told him, ‘we are more than happy to receive you’

‘Where is Vennela, I wanna meet her soon’ Sam could anticipate that her parents agreed for the marriage. Her parents started to cry. And her mom led Sam to a room in the interior and showed her.

‘Sam, Vennela was murdered in cold blood by a group of young men, the case is still under investigation and the reasons for the murder are not known yet’ said her mom weeping pointing to her photo on the wall.

Sam’s heart broke. It broke into pieces. Thousands and thousands of them. He fell to the ground on his knees and started to cry his heart out.

He wept for days together till not even a single drop could come out of his eyes. His tears have evaporated. ‘We want you to be with us son’ but he insisted and finally bade bye to her parents and left India.

Now he felt fresh air for the first time again after many years and it reminded him of Vennela.

‘Vennela, I will avenge your death’ he told himself.

The next day police were at the Baltimore state prison facility.

Detective Summers was a terribly shaken man. Right in front of him lay the bodies of Dr. Mikheal and Janus. A little far off from the place were the bodies of three prison guards. All of them were strangulated by a metal chain.

‘We have a situation. A dangerous convict has escaped- Sam, the butcher …….’

The Kill

2008-01-11T17:52:00.002+05:30

Jason Voorhees is the antagonist from the slasher flicks ‘Friday the 13th’. With the trademark hockey mask and a knife, Jason is a mass killer, a supernatural being who would stalk and kill his victims.

Jason needed to cross the cemetery to reach his home. The whole place was desolate and devoid of any form of life. He could see only the phosphorescence reminisce of the unburnt bones. Far across the cemetery, he could hear a wolf howling amidst the rustling of the leaves. A gentle breeze brushed his skin but he still proceeded to walk unnerved by the jittery milieu.

Suddenly he heard a faint voice calling him from behind. With an apprehensive consternation, cowered by the cover of darkness he preferred not to look back and treaded along, dreading the nonce. He tried to give the damned thing, whoever it is, a slip. It was fast catching on him. In the next twinkling, a girl put her hand on his shoulder. He looked behind and his apperception made her look like a phantasm transmogrify into a bewitching nymph.

‘This place is very queer looking and I am new to this place. Can u accompany me till the other end of cemetery’, the girl requested. Jason had never before seen such a beautiful girl in his life. He responded in the affirmative, and both of them started to walk.

‘My name is Mikhela’

‘I am Jason, Jason Voorhees’, saying this, Jason pulled out the knife and put on the hockey mask. Mikhela was aghast and her fingers became numb, and she couldn’t even raise her hand to stop Jason. She slowly gathered all her courage and strength and was trying to run away when she heard Jason laughing. She was flabbergasted and looked at him.

‘I have come down from hell to kill you, and now there’s no escape’

‘Jason can’t talk and he’s fictional, you are trying to imitate him!!! You aren’t Jason!!!’

Jason then removed the mask and said he was playing a prank on her.

‘God, you scared the shit out of me’, and both of them had a hearty laugh. And they continued to walk. Suddenly Mikhela was not walking with him. He could see only one shadow of his in the faint moonlight. He just turned back and saw Mikhela standing in the opposite direction with her back towards Jason. Jason approached her and put his arm over her shoulder. Mikhela looked at him slowly and it was a moment of trepidation for Jason. She turned into a vampire with two large fangs digging out of her mouth. Jason was shell shocked, and he tried to run. And when he turned back, he saw Mikhela standing in front of him.

‘There is no escape Jason!!! Offer yourself to me and I promise that it will be smooth’

Before Jason could say anything, Mikhela was holding his neck in her hands and was about to dig in her fangs into him, when Jason cried out loudly in vain. Mikhela held on for a moment before she removed the fangs from her jaws and showed it to Jason, saying she was playing a prank too.

Both of them had a hearty laugh, and by the time they have crossed the cemetery road, they parted ways to reach their respective destinations.
The next morning, there was a holler and a police car was at the scene a few minutes later.

The newspaper reports read this.

‘An unidentified man in his late 30’s is found dead at the lake side which overlooks the cemetery. He was stabbed multiple times with what seems to be a big knife and the only circumstantial evidence the police could recover is a hockey mask, mostly belonging to the killer. Not far from the place, another body was recovered, that of a woman in her late 30’s, and the evidence found were two fang marks on her neck!!!!!!’

One night with a zombie

2008-01-11T17:52:00.001+05:30

Crunch..crunch… zombies have invaded the living parts of the world and are eating away the humans, who are also meeting the same fate as that of the zombies. That was a great movie by Romero. He’s still the master when it comes to zombie movies.

Yawn… I have decided to sleep. It was damn chilling and so I pulled up the quilt. The room was dark and inside the quilt it was warm and so I slipped into sleep very soon. All of a sudden I felt something crawling down my feet. Somebody was pulling my quilt down. Must be one of my stupid friends playing some prank. I just pulled back the quilt.

This happened for 3-4 times. And I pulled the quilt up and tucked it under myself, in such a way that it cannot be pulled. After sometime I looked down, half-asleep. What I saw gave me the scare of my life.

A man eating zombie was holding my feet and was trying to eat it, just like how I try to eat a chicken leg. I was shouting at the top of my voice but it doesn’t seem to emit beyond my vocal cords. Nobody was able to hear me. In the mean time the zombie bit a part of my leg. Blood was oozing from it, and the zombie was licking the flesh dripping blood. It tore the muscle off my feet and was licking it and eating it. Seems like its relishing it much. I was trying to kick it off, lot of struggle, but all in vain.

In a few minutes I collapsed down on my bed, and my struggle for survival sank like the titanic.

The next morning I woke up all of a sudden much to the baffled friends of mine who were trying to wake me up. The first thing I did was to look at my feet. Yes, its intact. I would have dreamt about the zombie eating my feet. Then I woke up and when I was folding my quilt, something caught my attention. With a loud scream I threw the quilt and a chill ran down my spine. I could see blood stains on the lower part of the bed sheet.

My holler made my friends come to me running and I told them the entire story and showed them the blood stained bed sheet. We had a closer look at the bed sheet and I saw 5-6 mosquitoes dead. !!!!!

The serial killer

2008-01-11T17:51:00.000+05:30

June 20, 2007 Chennai
“Ewww”, was the shout from a girl. All the people in the vicinity rushed to the spot followed by the holler. There was a dismembered leg, a staunch rationale to what standard, moral values have fallen to. “It’s atrocious and callous”, cried someone. It was indeed a heinous act that raised many eyebrows.

June 21, 2007 Pune
In the outskirts of the city, a body was found, in a highly decomposed state, floating in a local water body. The concerned authorities are yet to ascertain the cause of death, but this looks to be the handiwork of the same cutthroat whose bloodcurdling murder has created a sensation in Hyderabad.

3 more such dastardly homicides in the following days and here we are with our very own serial killer in India. The most baffling fact is that the bodies or the dismembered organs appear in the broad daylight amidst the highly populated areas.

A committee was soon constituted to find the intent and the motive behind these serial murders.Neither a single piece of evidence was collected from the site of murder, nor a single clue. Apparently a single mastermind wouldn’t be able to execute these murders, but a gangs’ hand behind the murders cannot be ruled out.

June 25, 2007 Hyderabad
The most gruesome of them all happens in the next few days. While the body was being removed from the place of recovery, it splits into two parts and fluids were seen dripping down from the dismantled body. One of my friends has been the mute witness to this horrendous and gory scene. Two or three curious onlookers have fainted.

The committee has come up with its baffling findings. He killed only members of ‘Periplaneta Americana’. The murderer\the gang was nicknamed ‘The Hitter’ in resemblance to the Hitler under whose regime the Nazis went on an extermination spree, killing the Jews. The hunt was now on for the ‘Periplaneta Americana’ sect.

The Hitter is not caught yet. He may be one among us, unsuspecting and in the prowl for prey. Don’t be surprised if this happens to your neighbor or for that matter, to yourself.

There are three remarkable things according to the findings.
The first one. Unless you belong to this particular sect. there is nothing much to panic. The second one. Of course you don’t belong to this group, as I was talking about the findings in the food we eat, and the last one, ‘Periplaneta Americana’ is the scientific name for cockroach.

The Evil of Manor

2007-11-01T17:51:00.000+05:30

Manor,
30th July, 1675.
Dear Sarah,
I have just received your letter regd. your arrival to Manor. It’s been a long time since I have seen you, but fearing your own safety, I feel that you should refrain yourself from coming.Please go through the letter carefully, and learn the atrocities of the Lord of Manor.

The Lord of Manor is a very rich landlord and owned much of the lands we see here in the moor. The Lord aged in his 40’s is a very arrogant and wicked person. Every night the Lord of the Manor would drag a girl from the nearby villages under his purview, to his mansion in the moor, and the whereabouts of the girl wouldn’t be known afterwards. Most of us were of the opinion that the girl would have been brutally raped and murdered. None of us had the courage to revolt against him. Some of us have even begged his mercy, but of no avail. His wicked antics continue to date, and most of the families fearing the same fate for their girls have already left the moor. The moor is now a desolate place with no life in the visible horizon.
So this is an earnest request from your sister, for you not to come to the moor. I will see you and mommy, soon in Worwickshire, the next year.

Your loving sister,
Jones.

*************************************************************************************

“About 40 odd graves were discovered in his backyard, sir”, continued sergeant Levy “they are trying to open those sarcophaguses to find out the causes of their deaths”. For more than 300 years, the mansion and the moor were almost uninhabited. A wealthy family brought the mansion, and they moved into it recently. The graves were discovered by chance and police are investigating now.

“Sir, we found an old diary of the caretaker of this mansion. Perhaps it has some clues”, sergeant Levy handed over the diary to the Sheriff Watson. The Sheriff opened the document and started to read the diary.

“It is 18th August, 1674. My Lord has a penchant for girls and hunting. Every day he would hunt down a deer or a boar with his .30 mm caliber Saber gun. And then he would abduct a girl from the nearby village, bring his prized hunt as well as the girl to the mansion. He would then, lock the girl up in the bedroom. My Lord then proceeds further to the hall and drinks by the hearth. Like every day today also it’s the same. After drinking heavily he fell down on a bed nearby in a fully inebriated state. I always had the pity for these abducted girls. So I have devised a plan for these girls to escape. By the time he regains consciousness, I would ask the girl to pretend as if she were dead and ask her lay down in a coffin. My Lord would eventually wake up and he would ask for the girl. I would say that she killed herself in grief and fright. Then I would proceed further with the coffin to the backyard, and bury it. My Lord would be watching all this. After digging the grave and placing the coffin into it, I would cover it up with dirt, with the intent of saving the girl from the grave and hence from the clutches of my Lord after he retires for the night.“

“This used to happen every day, until today. It is 13th August, 1675. This particular day, my Lord abducted a beautiful girl from the village. Her cheeks are as red as petals of a rose. Her lips, so tender and delicate like that of a fish, her eyes so small and round like that of a baby. However, she was seized by a paroxysm of trepidation.

She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life. Now that I am very much peeved with my Lord abducting beautiful girls like this every day, I have decided to put an end to this frenzy. I have decided to kill my Lord, so that no more abduction would take place and that the people on the moor can live happily ever after. After the Lord drinks and drops down inebriated, I would place him in the coffin and bury him forever. So I spoke to the girl, and both of us hatched a plan for the same. Suddenly I heard some commotion in the next room when I sat down to note the same things into my diary. The lord has woken up and he is raging in anger. Perhaps this would be the last word before I am shot de…….”

The Sheriff finishes reading the diary. Apparently the Lord over heard the caretaker’s conversation with the girl and in a fit of rage must have shot him dead.
One after another all the coffins were opened. Each coffin had the same story to tell. The inner walls were scratched with nails, and it was apparent that the caretaker never rescued any of the girls whom he promised elusion, and that girls died in the coffin due to asphyxiation.

“Sheriff”, called out sergeant Levy, “Look at this last grave. It must be of the caretaker”. They opened the coffin and inside it was the body of what appeared to be that of a noble at the time of his death. He was killed by a gunshot across his skull, and beside him lay a .30 mm caliber Saber gun.

Sergeant Levy yelled in funk, "That means the Lord of manor himself is the ......!"

The ghoul of b'lore woods

2007-11-01T17:47:00.000+05:30

It was an idyllic summer evening. This was the first time I was staying in B’lore. All of a sudden, the heavens opened up and it began to rain cats and dogs. “Walking like a man, heading like a hammer, she’s a juvenile scam, never was a quitter, kissing like a rainbow….”, rang the mobile. ‘She’s got the look’ by Roxette is one of my favorite. I connected the call and it was my girl. She was stuck in the midst of this heavy downpour and she asked me to fetch her.

Taking the keys, I made it to the car and unlocked it. Inserting the key, I turned on the ignition and the engine roared to life. It’s an hour drive from my house, to the place where I should pick her up. I need to traverse a highway, not to mention the woods which would nevertheless take about half an hour of my journey. Having a penchant for my car, I have a leather upholstery with a leather finished dashboard and a sun-roof and a good music system.

“Cheri cheri lady, living in devotion …” I sang along with Modern Talking’s crooning in my car’s stereo. I was already in the woods when my reflexes urged me to pull the hand brake on seeing some obstacle in the nearest distance. The car came to a screeching halt and I pulled over the road. I looked out of the window, only to find a boy and a girl, completely drenched in the downpour. I couldn’t deny them a hitch and so the boy made it to the front and the girl to the rear. I was always afraid of hitchhikers particularly after reading “The Hitchhiker”. It’s a good story, in which the protagonist suffers his agony after hitching a guy, who's the villain. Now, it’s a different story altogether.

Another half hour of my journey was still left. I switched off the stereo and I tried to pick a conversation with them. Both of them were completely soaked and were dripping wet. I turned to the guy and asked him where he was going. Then I introduced myself to him. I turned back and tried to talk to the girl. The guy interrupted stating that the girl wasn’t well and so I cut the talk. However I looked at the girl in the rear view mirror and she’s terribly shaken. I can see it from her eyes.

The guy however must have noticed it, kept me busy with the conversation. He pulled out a cigar and offered me one. I don’t smoke and so I softly rejected. He then asked me for a lighter and I removed the automatic lighter from the dashboard and lighted his cigar. He puffed and I coughed. He must have noticed my obnoxiousness and he put out the cigar and threw it.

He told me that the girl was his wife and she’s inflicted with some injury, a sharp blow, it’s supposed to be. As it was raining heavily, commutation wasn’t possible and so he hitched the ride. He asked me to drop them in a nearby hospital, which is a few kilometers ahead, which comes, of course before my destination. I was asking about how she was inflicted, but he kept mum all the time.

On reaching the hospital, I pulled over and the girl got down from my car and thanked me. I looked beside me and found no one. I got down from the car and helped the girl to make it, into the hospital. I turned around for the guy, but he wasn’t there. I inquired the girl about the boy. I froze when she said that she alone hitched the ride. A chill ran down my spine. I completed the formalities and got the girl admitted into the hospital.

Suddenly a thought flashed across my mind and I ran to the car. I opened the front door and found that the leather seat was still wet, as if some one has just left the car a few minutes back. I could even see the ashes on the floor mats. My head drooled over for a few seconds, and thinking that its time for me to leave, for my girl should be waiting, I quickly pulled the car onto the road.

And when I reached the place, where I am supposed to wait, I couldn’t find my girl. I immediately called her, and what she said further astounded me. She was with her friend and that she hasn’t called me in the evening, and more over her number wasn’t working. I reversed the car and went back to the hospital to find answers to the intriguing questions.

I asked the girl about herself and how she was injured. The girl revealed some facts which were horrifying. She along with her husband was pillion riding a bike, the day before, when a lorry coming in the opposite direction, knocked them down, and mowed her husband. There were no vehicles in that route and so she had to wait till I picked her up and got her admitted to the next hospital. I immediately made way to the accident place and verified the facts. They were indeed intriguingly true. I even found the dead body of the husband, and in fact he was the very man who sat beside me in the car!!!

There are three remarkable facts in the above horror tragedy. The first one is that I received a call from a known number which wasn’t supposedly in use. The second one is that even if the husband called me, why should he hitch the ride and accompany his wife to the hospital. And finally the third one. I have never been to B’lore.

The origin of species continues

2007-11-01T17:35:00.000+05:30

It is said that the Galapagos Islands in the Pacific Ocean are the home to the rarest of the rarest Species found on earth. And Charles Darwin proposed his Theory of origin of species, in these very islands. Giant tortoises, prehistoric Iguanas roam the entire islands in their own destiny.Earth is the only planet in the entire universe, supposedly supporting life, because of numerable factors which make life feasible. The beauty of Nature can be seen from the fact that there are innumerable cycles and chains which contact each other to maintain the balance of the earth.

Darwin has proposed the 'survival of the fittest' theory. But Nature has her own method, own code, which follows the famous physics' harmonic motion. Life on earth is repeated and in cycles, as a particle set into harmonic motion. First, life on Earth started from simple cells to complex molecular cells and so on and so forth, and then they started to evolve into higher forms of life. And when a stage was reached where in primitive life began development into advanced forms, Nature set itself into a harmonic motion. The code of Nature is that life is given birth, which evolves from a primitive stage to a fully blown developed state, where in if it conflicts with the basic rules of nature, or if its life period is expired, it is selectively wiped out, and newer life follows the older.

We don’t have any evidences supporting this theory, because life, spans over a period of millions of years, and then it is followed by primitive life after its complete annihilation, which take another fewer thousands of years to evolve. In the meanwhile, the intelligent Nature herself buries the truths of the previous life, into the hearts of Earth. If at all any appalling discoveries are made, they are of the neighboring life, like what the humans have made of the dinosaurs!!

Yes, species die out and yet new species are given birth to, by Mother Nature. But how long will this continue? How long will Earth induct newer and newer species? Won’t she get exhausted? The answer to this question is yes. A crop bearing field will satisfactorily yield good crop for a year or two or at the maximum, for a period of five years. After that the fertility gets reduced and the field becomes barren, until and unless the field recharges itself, but if the rate of extraction of resources is faster than the rate of recharging, the field dies out. Similarly, the same thing is happening to Mother Earth.

Will the existing species continue to live for ever? Will Homo sapiens continue to dominate Earth forever? Will the evolutionary ladder pave the way for some other species? Why is it that we have epidemics and natural calamities each year claiming life? Read along to find the answers.

We have seen the First World War and the Second World War. Do you think that a particular human or a group was responsible for this mass kind of destructive wars? No, is the answer. It is all a part of nature's game plan that man has evolved. He was a pawn in the seemingly assumed lifeless Earth's intelligent play.

Now be prepared for a third world war which is going to wipe out the entire human race out of the planet Earth, and in this war, the radioactivity caused by the nuclear weapons is more than sufficient, to bring the gigantic life back to Earth. So, how will gigantic life be brought back to Earth when all the life is destroyed?

Life won’t be destroyed. It’s only a few species that are being wiped out, selectively. Mother Nature has a way of recharging her own resources. The dinosaurs were wiped out from Earth, not by an asteroid or climatic changes. They were selectively bred but they had to be exterminated as they burdened the food chain, causing great imbalance in the nature.

With the advent of industrial revolution, man also has done irreparable damage and invited the wrath of Mother Nature. In order to recharge her resources and use them for ever, for the future species, Nature has hatched out many plans, in the form of huge epidemic breakouts, natural calamities and so on, but it failed all the times. Not because, its planning wasn’t perfect, but because of the single reason of the adaptability of man to the severities of nature. The nature's code of survival of the fittest was copied by the humans.

In fact, the human race could have been granted a longer life spanning over a few millions of years, but the rate at which man is depleting the earth's resources, and also being primarily responsible for the extinction of a huge variety of flora and fauna, has invoked Mother Nature agony (and her wrath), to act quickly and wipe out the human race in the near future, and preserve her other children.

And the only thing that could make this possible is a nuclear war. After the nature's failed attempts,its man's own turn, who has invited his own doom with the proliferation of nuclear weapons. As, I have already pointed out, life repeats itself in cycles, now it’s the turn of gigantic life forms to own Earth once again, and the fuel for it? It’s the nuclear energy!!!

This is a fictional work. (But who knows this may be the Nature’s plot)!!!