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."

Double Take Anyone?

Posted in Lame Justifications with tags , , , on November 28, 2008 by harshad

So, Mumbai’s been pounded again. And I (all of us) have got a shiny-new topic to rant about here. A chance to rave and rant about the ‘inability’ of the government to tackle terrorism. An issue which the government has been facing since 1984-the assassination of Indira Gandhi.

The truth is, I dont really feel like saying anything. It just doesn’t affect me that much. Really. And I just know ranting is not going to do any good. Its great to watch it all on TV. The troops (MarCos) descending from choppers, NSG guys going in with RPGs…gunshot staccato…all that makes up a cool movie actually. Go watch it on TV! 

Why the fuck am I so desensitized to all of this? I mean…sorry to say this…but Times NOW has been a great source of ‘entertainment’ for the last day and a half!  

These days, for something to make us think…it has to be shocking. Disturbing. And for something to be shocking…it has to have an element of surprise. But I wasn’t surprised this time around. I have been hearing of terrorist attacks every damn year since I started to understand a bit of all that it stood for. 1991-2008…a terrorist attack somewhere, every damn year. Whats new?

The only thing that intrigued me and got my lame ass mind off the usual stuff it engages itself with were the pictures of the terrorists being flashed on TV. That guy with the clean-shaven face, cool tee, cargos and a nice backpack with maybe a laptop and an iPod. With a few rounds and a few grenades. The definiton of cool for any teenager. Next time around, it may so happen that the terrorist they are showing on TV was a regular at our corner CS haunt. Maybe then it will affect me. Maybe not.

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.

Silver Chill

Posted in Love and Romance with tags , , , , , on November 14, 2008 by harshad

The salty water filled his mouth. He stared at her…unable to fathom what had happened. The waves twisted and turned her form…moving farther every second…

A thin smile appeared on his lips. The events of the evening came rushing back to him…

Wearing his blue (or was it grey?) suit, he was not really looking forward to see her. It was just yesterday (or was it more?) when he had confessed his love…and she had not said anything. Her silence told him what she felt. Always a fugitive, he had decided to leave the town, sure that he could not bear seeing her in some other man’s arms. Just before leaving, he had asked her to come see him…one last time.

They had decided to meet at the docks…he could meet her and leave on the ferry for the converted carge ship moored in the distance.

Dressed in a black gown, she looked stunning. He stared at the glittering bracelet on her bare arm…and felt a jab in the gut…wishing he could hold her arm…hold her hand…caress her lips…it pained him..knowing that she was all dressed up not for him. He had tried to hide his tears…it wasn’t easy after the whole vodka he had downed…

He smiled at her, “You look beautiful”

“Thank you. Its a friend’s birthday by the beach.” He knew she was lying.

“Oh..thats nice. Do wish her from me. I am leaving.” He blurted.

“Where for?” He had hated her then…or hated the absence of even a hint of disappointment in her voice.

“…have an assignment…”

“Okay…Come back soon though.”  Why was she being so…uninterested?

“Ofcourse…” He did not wish to tell her that he was going for good…lest she thought it was because of her. Or maybe he did not wish to let her know that he had lost. There was still some pride left in him.

There was an awkward silence between them. The ferry rumbled up to the dock. People scrambled around them…shouting…calling to their children…shoving each other…he felt like a statue in a marketplace.

He looked at her…she was looking away, at the city lights…lost in her thoughts…or maybe just impatient to get back. Her foot was tracing a small arc on the ground.

“Your friends might be waiting for you…better go now” He said.

“Yea…I should. Dont want to miss out on the cake!” she managed a fake laugh.

The ferry had started to move away. He took a step towards it and stopped. There was something in her eyes. She cocked a wink at him and jumped into the ferry. Stunned for a moment, he ran for it but the ferry was out of reach. He jumped.

The salty water filled his mouth. He stared at her…unable to fathom what had happened. The waves twisted and turned her form…moving farther every second…he started swimming towards the ferry. A thin smile appeared on his lips…a smile of ecstasy. She held out a hand. He grabbed it and climbed aboard. They hugged under the november moon…the chill in the air bringing them ever closer…

The Now

Posted in Intro on November 13, 2008 by harshad

At a risk of coming across as an arrogant dick, I wish to make it clear that I have never been comfortable with formalities.

So, Hello and welcome to my blog…(and all the other formalities that go with this kind of a first post.)

This is not my first blog. I have one at http://thehandi.blogspot.com which is now dead.

I really wish to apologize to all those who supported me there for leaving so abruptly…but I just was not able to come up with anything. It was a f*****g long writer’s block (an excuse, i think) maybe, or maybe whatever had been going on in my life for the last few months took my mind off all this…but i’m really sorry for being so ‘rude’.

I wish and hope that I can write regularly here.