Archive for night

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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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.”

——————-

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."

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…