Archive for the Short Stories Category

Sane and Dead

Posted in On The Road, Short Stories with tags , , , on January 14, 2009 by harshad

The darkness around consumes me as I ride through. Trees appear and again melt into the air…leaving behind blurry outlines of the moment of their existence. I hunt for milestones…markers to remind me of what is to come.

The city is 10 kilometres away.

It reveals its existence once very few turns, bright lights finding their way through the maze of trees, electricity poles and general rot.  I ride in anticipation.

The road winds ahead of me. I agree to its path…with reluctance. Its not time yet. The engine throbs under me. Pushing it down to neutral, I engage first and jerk open the throttle, riding the wind on one wheel. I like the feeling of being in control.

She rushes into my thoughts with the wind. The whole pink-lips-pretty-smile-soft-hair-sweet-voice-warm-hugs of her. I turn around and salute with a finger what I am leaving behind.

The city approaches.

The lights claw towards me. I accelerate and rush headlong into an intersection of two highways.

I see fate rushing towards me on 18 wheels. I hope the front disc works as advertised…but decide not to use it.

Sadly, the trucker is not insane . He brakes, his machine wobbles embarrassingly for its size and takes down two cars with it.

I stop, stare, and ride on to get my fill of chilled beer for the night.

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A Bullet With My Name – “Ascension” Short Fiction Contest

Posted in betrayal, Crime, Short Stories with tags , , , on January 10, 2009 by harshad

There’s a great contest on at The Clarity Of Night…with cool prizes. Do check it out and join the fun!

This is my entry. First time I have written something in 250 words, haven’t been able to be too descriptive as I usually like to be. 

The link to my entry

A Bullet With My Name

The world passes me in a rush, the people around me a general blur. I run through the long corridors of the mall, taking every turn, hoping not to run into a dead end. I can hear Amrit panting behind me, her heels making it impossible for her to keep up. Ducking behind a rack, I ask her to take them off. 

The two men following us run past. I have an idea.

I tear the tag off a jacket and put it on. I tell Amrit to wear a scarf and follow a few steps behind. Strolling casually, I walk out the exit, only to be stopped by a security guard. 
Perfect.

I see Amrit walk out. The guard takes me to the security officer. He is easy. I grease him to let me off. Hoping Amrit might have escaped, I walk towards a security exit.

Then she screams.

I rush back inside, only to find the two men holding some girl hostage. I feel like a fish on a hook. They point their guns at me. I run for the stairs leading down to the basement. Petitioning God, I jump, shots whizzing past me.
They follow me down, when I see Amrit. Shocked to see her there, I tell her to run, but she walks towards me. 

She walks towards me, puts a gun to my heart and pulls the trigger. Falling to the ground, the last thing I see are her feet, moving heavenward on an escalator.

Nothing New.

Posted in Love and Romance, Short Stories with tags , , , , on December 23, 2008 by harshad

Blank.

Glitter Redux or F*** Love!

Posted in Occult, Short Stories with tags , , on December 17, 2008 by harshad

The large diamond on her ring sparkled subtly in the waning light. Its numerous faces looked sinful…distant lights sparkling on its sharp edges.
Andrea looked at it and felt a tingle of excitement shoot through her body.
She shivered in the thin nightgown. She had put it on today only for him. People on the way had given her strange looks. She had ignored them…anything for Julian, she thought. She was going to be with him again.
The wind was playing mischief at that late hour-as gentle as a stream one moment, as wild as a gale the next. The gown flapped against her legs noisily. From a distance, her silhouette looked like a perfectly sculpted female form.
She grew impatient with each passing minute.
The week had seemed to her like an eternity. But now she couldn’t wait. She wanted to feel his arms wrapped around her. The smell of his cologne was still etched in her mind…a scent that roused her even now.
She looked up at the stars and the moonlit sky. It was a beautiful night. The disc of the full moon was mesmerizing. In a surge of excitement, she slid the gown off her. Closing her eyes, she imagined him coming up and lifting her in a warm embrace.
"Be patient" she told herself and looked at the ring. Staring at the diamond, her lips unconsciously curled into a smile. She vividly remembered the day he had proposed to her. After the initial euphoric shock, she had squealed with joy looking at the beautiful diamond he had slid onto her finger.

Now he lay at her feet…a tombstone marking the spot.

"I cant wait any longer" she said to herself.
She took off the ring and stared at the diamond. All she had to do was swallow it…and she would be with him again. Closing her eyes, she bit the stone off the ring.

Just then, a faint rustle passed through the woods behind the tree. She opened her eyes…staring into her face were two flaming blue orbs. Startled, she backed off.

“Ahh….you don’t require to worry beautiful…I am not here to hurt you..ssss!”

A man stepped out of the shadows…his face glowing bright silver under the moon. His eyes shone a brilliant blue. A thick tuft of fur shrouded his neck.

Shocked, she somehow mumbled…”You are a werewolf!”

“Yesss…a loup-garou…am not from this world…nor from the domain where he tarries…either” he pointed at the tombstone. “You are a beautiful creature…pity wasting that beauty for someone who is all mud and worms! Come with me…I forebode a beauteous abode for your soul….”

His eyes seemed to glow brighter with each word. She stood in a trance…her loneliness pushing her to cling to every word.

He howled as the moon shone the brightest. “Not much time I have…come with me…let me bleed you before the moon wanes…and you shall be mine..” he was on all fours now, bristling fur sprouting all over him.

Mesmerized, she held out her arm. His eyes shone brighter…and he swiped her glowing skin. A smart of blood escaped in a thin line…she wailed like a banshee…blood rushing in gusts inside her…her mind muddled with images of a misty forest…wolf-men running in packs…howling to the full moon…clawing at trees…running like the wind…in a world lined with silver.

Before long, her transformation was complete. He ran into the forest. She followed…but stopped…letting her wolvine self surrender to one final roguery of the human mind.

Lifting a furry leg, she let out a stream of warm weewee on the tombstone.

 

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This is a redo of a short I had written a while back…..Glitter. If you wish to read the original, here’s the link

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Bodcount

Posted in Love and Romance, Short Stories with tags , , , on December 15, 2008 by harshad

The night air smelled sinfully sweet…or of blood and splattered guts. The breeze played its part…diffusing an ugly warmth to every niche of the city.

A sleek black Audi steered into a side street and stopped behind a tumble-down building. She stepped down from the car, ill-at-ease in the tight black skirt and much too aware of it. She tugged at it, hoping to gain an extra inch of decency. It refused to budge. She swore under her breath…too naive to realize the neighborhood she was in cared a fuck for correctitude…even in whore-clothing.

She walked to the main street and made sure the car was not visible. The locality was not used to the slick elegance of an Audi.

A beep from her watch said it was 11 PM. Making sure no one was around, she walked back to the car. She made a note in a small diary:

“Day 3. The trail has led me to the sorriest whore-hole I have ever seen. Hope to find the fucker today. Cant afford to rack up the body count any higher. The bastard will pay for all the blood he has made me spill.”

She knew she could not afford to arouse any suspicion from the regular beat-girls in the district, and hoped her blood red lipstick and 3 inch stiletto heels could help her commingle in the slutmush.

A long blade lay beneath her skirt. Glittering stones adorned the haft…spelling out “Tempter’s Girl”. She had vowed not to wash the blade till she found him. The stains would remind him of the men she had to kill…men he had set up to ambush her. So far, he had managed to be one step ahead.

A small visiting card from her ‘employees’ had the address hastily scribbled on its back. She flipped the card and read the name of the escort service again.

Rosie

New Day, New Girl

Hussies With Attitude

She smiled at the ignorant contradiction.

The sky glowed a dirty glow…her thoughts seemed to manifest themselves in more ways than one. A few girls lounged beneath lamp-posts, talking shop, hooked to Mary Jane.

Finding the building she was looking for, she stepped in the foyer. The building paraded its woebegone state-dog shit littered the floor. Spiders and lizards played an endless game of eat-and-shit on the ceiling. A small bulb glowed in some nook…its light muddled by the malodorous vapors.

Deftly avoiding the slosh, she got to the second floor. A long passage spanned to her left and right. Moldy doors lined the passage on either side…she could knock them down with a kick. She took to the left, studying the grubby numbers on each door…and came upon the one she was looking for. 222.

She instinctively drew the blade as a chill went up her spine. Readying herself to slash if need be, she knocked.

“New Girl, New Day!” she hoped it sounded like a hussy with attitude.

“Hold your titties sweety…comin’!”…the voice sounded far-off.

She saw the metal knob turn…and the door swung open.

“…am coming…will come again-“

He stood frozen, the link between his mouth and brain momentarily broken. She slipped inside and kicked the door close.

“Got you sonovahoe!” She pushed him down on the bed, ripping of his clothes with the blade.

He laughed like a madman…and pushed the blade out of her grasp. Pulling her closer, he stifled her excited body with a smothering kiss.

“You are getting better at our little game with every turn sweetheart …just three days this time!” he said, pulling her clothes off.

“My bodycount has gone up to seven you fuck…you are still at three! This time around, I won’t make it so easy for you. My turn starts tomorrow.”

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Alice In Chains – Facelift – Love, Hate, Love

the tea party

Posted in Occult, Short Stories with tags , , , on December 8, 2008 by harshad

The bus jerked to a halt at the bus stand. It was not daybreak, but the night was slowly gathering up its liquid darkness. Raman stepped down in a daze…waking up from a shaky sleep with blurred dreams of wheels, silhouetted trees and sudden flashes of white light.

He still had a few hours before him…the client was to see him at 10. He started towards the lights of the town…hoping to find someplace to put up for the day. A cheap lodge maybe.

The streets around the bus stand were deserted. A bunch of mongrels slept on the sidewalk…eyes closed in an uneasy sleep….waiting for daybreak..to another day of sniffing, running, barking and fucking. He smiled at the thought. Peaceful creatures.

The bus stand was in the ‘old town’, a rundown and neglected part…a home for derelicts.

"I doubt I would find anything close to a lodge here…"

He stared at the lights in the distance…chaotic looking, but a comforting sight to anyone new in a town. He looked around, hoping to find an auto or even a cycle rickshaw…but there was nobody at that ungodly hour.

Buttoning up his jacket, he started walking down the road that seemed to lead in the general direction of the lights.

Soon, he was through the old town and was surrounded by fields, the fog over them glowing eerily in a light coming from nowhere. The road narrowed suddenly…a bridge. He stared down into the dark abyss. Tiny shape-shifting discs of light floated over the water…reflections from the lights on the other side. He tightened his jacket around him, shivering involuntarily…there was a sudden chill in the air around him.

"Its just all the water around…"

The bridge was short, but the chill seemed to get stronger. He found it difficult to breath…each breath a ghoulish mist. He broke into a trot, hoping that the exercise would warm him up. But the chill grew stronger…mocking him…laughing at his futile attempts. His head started to drift…the lights seemed too far away.

Closer, to his left,  a small fire burned.

Covering his ears with his palms, he broke into a run. The chill seemed to follow him. A sharp pain jabbed at his knees…he feared they would crack at any step. The fire was just ahead now. He stopped. A jolly-looking old man sat on a low stool, humming a merry jingle. A kettle warmed on the fire. The steam billowing from its neck promised of gratifying hot tea.

Raman stepped closer. The old man looked up and smiled. He reminded Raman of santa claus. Round belly, bright eyes, pink spots under the eyes. Only his clothes betrayed the image.

"Rather a cold morning today eh?"

"Its freezing! And is it just me or has the temperature really dropped by a few degrees in two minutes?"

"Oh, it happens here all the time. The river loves to play tricks!"

Raman was thankful, the old man was quite friendly. He stared longingly at the kettle.

"Nothing as good as steaming tea on a cold morning!" the old man smiled again, and poured  two cupfuls  of the boiling black nectar.

Raman grabbed the cup, holding it between his palms, melting in the warmth. Sipping slowly, he relaxed. An incredible warmth seemed to fill him from the inside.

The old man rose heavily.

"I will be right back. Make yourself comfortable."

Raman downed another two cups. A mattress with a blanket lay by the fire. Unable to resist the warm temptation, he slipped beneath the blanket. He slept the most peaceful sleep of his life.

Bright sunlight woke him up. He looked around, gathering his things in a hurry. Wanting to thank him, he looked for the old man. He seemed to have disappeared. So had the shack he had gone into. There was no blanket, nor was there any mattress. There were no signs of the fire.

Puzzled, Raman checked his watch. 8:30. Not wanting to waste any more time, he quickly moved into town. Finding a lodge close by, he managed to ready himself for the meeting, unable to forget the events of the night.

He locked the room door and was getting out of the lodge, when he overheard the manager talking to someone in a red cap.

"Are you sure it was that?" the manager looked incredulous.

"Yes! It was the old man’s fire, by the bridge. I am sure of it!" the red cap said.

"Poor man, whoever it was in the old man’s tea party. If the legend is true, he just has a week to live. No one would ever know the cause of his death."

The Blown Job

Posted in Minute of Angle with tags , , , on November 25, 2008 by harshad

I wait in the bush, lying prone…staring at the mobile phone.

I recall Kari’s words…”I’m trusting you with this…don’t make me eat my words.“…words that put me up on my first solo mission. 

I feel the cold barrel of my Mauser…worth a carload of money…money that could have been used to get better communication equipment. And saved us from counting on BSNL for being in touch.  I feel a cold chill at the thought. Kari had shown a great amount of faith in me…and doggedly secured funds for the gun from The Chief. I was just a newcomer…

I shiver with anticipation of the kill.

“Calm down…any minute now.”

I stare through the scope. Things invisible just a moment ago reveal themselves…cars…buildings…and the glass door. He will come out that door. Its good death does not show itself. Wonder what he would feel like…staring at his own death through the glass…

There’s a first time for everything. And the sniper in me is excited…800 meters to cover…one bullet…no second chances. I think of my camping days in CS…and my AWM.

The air is cold…I light a smoke to stop shaking and calm my nerves. “Solid Snake does this too…”. I check the watch. Just about time. 

The grass around me cracks. The wind blows strange tunes in the woods behind me. A hyena cackles in the distance…delightful…

I scope again. People moving, coming out of the building. Curtains being drawn open. People walking out through the front door. Nothing at the glass door yet. My glass door. I shift in the grass…position my rifle better. She has a great recoil…I won’t like it on a cold day.

He appears. Black suit. Black hair. Black boots. The Chief

Don’t ask questions. Don’t get surprised. Do your job.”…Kari’s words last night.

I pull the trigger. His head explodes in a careless mess. I cannot stay to watch the fun. Picking up my stuff, I run to my Contessa with a fast engine under the hood. I rev up and get out of the woods…my phone vibrates. Must be Kari. It is.

Mission cancelled. Killed that bastard in the meeting.

The message was sent 10 minutes ago. Damn you BSNL.