Tag Archives: thriller

The Antagonist

“Humanity, love for a fellow human being, is it some sort of a bargain we have to dish out every time we meet or converse with an another. Does it come out naturally to us or is it forced upon, like the innumerable veils we garb ourselves with. Couldn’t we just enforce a default and forget paying back the goodwill which others generously spend on us. Why can’t we treat it as an economic good, scare and non-renewable, using it only when we generate profit from it. Isn’t manipulation a quality? Why is it seen as a crime? Why do people see me as a misfit when they do what I do but only implicitly? It’s a strange world out there.”

The invisible thoughts flew around one after the other as I finally kept the nib up and rounded the diary back to the shelf. I had bigger things to focus upon, bigger for the moment I was in. It would be my 5th robbery today and the art seemed to flow naturally for me. Despite being only twenty, I already had a high reputation in my circle to live up to. Coming to repute, let me make one thing clear, I am no robin hood, which I think you have already figured. I have no remorse at what I do, nothing whatsoever. Though I do keep my count, the number of things I messed up during previous heists, the ones I should avoid this time. I keep looking for that perfect score, the invisible stature where I would walk in and walk out, unknown, untouched, like I was never there. But anyways that’s the dream.

Tonight, I had circled on the house at the corner, the one with the beautiful garden. Something I haven’t told you yet, I had wanted to become a florist when I was a little kid before I was pushed into our family business. It wasn’t exactly a push, it came naturally to me, may be that’s the reason I started early. Please don’t mind these thoughts; they keep flying by. Coming to the house I was talking about. It had been locked for over a couple of weeks. I inquired around, they all seem to say that it would take another week for the family to get back. That night as I lay inside on the sofa, watching my favourite serial “FRIENDS” on my iPad, I heard a chatter from outside.

“Dad, please open the door. I can’t hold it anymore.”

“Darling, be a good girl. Dad is trying to find the keys.” Tara replied.

“Ah, there it is!”
Ryan opened the door as Arya pushed her father and stormed inside.

“Careful, the lights…” Ryan stopped in between as his eyes lay upon the lighted iPad in the dark living room. There were series of laughters that were coming out from it.

Ryan went for the lights while Tara went to take a look at the puzzled activity on the sofa. The lights came on while I stood behind Tara with my knife on her throat. Ryan stood startled as Arya rushed and clutched onto her father’s leg in shock.

“Don’t come close!” I shouted.

“Leave her right now. Take whatever you want, but leave her.” Ryan shouted back.
“If I say I also want her then?”

“Joey doesn’t share food” the iPad roared.

“You fucked up shit. How dare you!” Ryan charged ahead.

“Stay where you are Mr. Ryan. Am I not in the position of strength?” As I kept the knife even more closer, drawing the first blood. Tara screamed in pain, her eyes were tensed but she didn’t mumble a single word.

“Please. Leave her! I am sorry, leave her.”

“You sound genuine! So little girl what should I do now?” Ryan kept moving his daughter behind himself. She was inconsolable, crying loudly in a shrieking voice.

“Ask her to shut up. I hate kids when they cry.”

“Please leave her. Take whatever you want, please.”

“Okay. I see you have a point.” Smiling at the irony as the song plays out from the tab, “I will be there for you…”

I took the bag from his hands, and moved towards his car still holding the knife on his wife. I asked her to sit beside quietly. She kept quiet, who wouldn’t when you have a knife on your throat. Ryan was pleading to leave her alone, but I wasn’t yet sure of their loyalty. I heard none of what they said, and whistled past the place with the bag and Tara. Ryan did run behind the vehicle but I think the vehicle was faster, indeed it should be, horse power you see.

It was only in the morning, Tara returned home. She wasn’t her normal self anymore. Though her clothes were untouched and she carried no injury, her eyes screamed in pain, as if something broke within her and wouldn’t possibly glue forever. “Only if they hadn’t returned home that night, things might have been much different, only if”, she thought.

#Tara&Ryan

The Lady in Black

Fiction

The scorching sun kept dwelling on the open backyard with traces of it being felt on her face as she tried to turn the other way to get her perfect sleep. But the disturbance was already made and the creaking fan had now become a notice point for her. She woke up nonchalantly, trying to make peace with herself but the screeching thoughts of last night shot up in her head. She hoped it was only a dream, though knowing it did actually happen she rushed out but later realized that she had no other option left. She took a cold bath, dressed herself in her favorite black suit with her hair neatly arranged and her lips done all red, and began her long walk to the destiny she had finally chosen.

She had everything one could desire, but her instincts had driven her this way with an incident which triggered the insanity in her. Ten kills and fifteen injured that’s what her count was; she was known among the news circles as ‘The Lady in Black’ Murders. It was never the money which she was after but the sense of insanity which she drove in her victims just before they breathed their last, that’s what caught on her like an addiction which was hard to move on from. She had a careful process which she went through religiously as she laid out the scheme of things around her victims. And the victims, they weren’t normal people; they were hardened criminals who were so thickly polluted that the public at large saw them as messiahs’ in white. This irony, this very irony, unleashed the devil in her.

It started with the molester who took away her friend’s life and robbed her from a faithful companion who she thoroughly revered. She was there, right next to her, lying helpless as the molester, her friend’s ex-husband, dragged her friend out into a moving car before disappearing in the dark. She lay their hurt and bruised, crying for help but no person in that crowded street had held their hand down. That night when she woke up with strips attached to her veins, she made a decision while coming to terms with her friend’s loss which changed her life forever.

It started with revenge, which became a necessity for her. It began all emotional but it only turned into an addiction. She kept convincing her mind of the moral ground she was achieving by putting the bad men to rest who have escaped the clutches of law. But she could never convince herself thoroughly about what she was doing was right. All she knew was that it was time, and she had to put these men to rest but she never knew when that fine line was crossed which made it impossible for her to return.

As the days passed, she began to feel the desire to kill growing enormously in her and later even tried finding the means to justify her act. Horrendous crimes she kept committing, one after the other. She was so close last time from being caught that the policeman had secured a bullet into her shoulder which she had to painfully extract herself. However the desire kept building in her, finally it reached such an extent that she forgot her ends and only means remained.

Out in the dark, she heard an old woman asking her to help cross the shady road; the blood lust began to thrive in and within moments she held the knife so close to the old woman’s throat that it was only matter of seconds. She managed to stumble upon her eyes, helpless, screaming with pain but no one to hear her to help. She felt a déjà vu; she felt she was in a similar position before and when the scene got recollected, she dropped down on her knees. She cried and cried as she couldn’t come to terms about what she had become. That night she couldn’t sleep, she felt trapped in her desire and the only way out was to surrender herself in.

In a shabby discreet police station of a remote village in Maria’h, there were a throng of newspaper reporters holding their microphones high, to collect the podcast about the surrender of the infamous serial killer ‘The Lady in Black’ who had been the cause for the murders in various places of the state for over an year. Masked in black, she walked out in shackles as she was moved into the police van to get deported to the capital where her trial was about to begin. 

“Monsters aren’t created from outside but they are made from within. Sometimes, in a desire to beat the monster down we ourselves become our worst enemy. There are ways to solve a problem, there are problems aplenty, but the fine line stays and it shouldn’t be crossed, no matter what.”– Testimony of the convict, ‘The Lady in Black’ murders.


Photo Courtesy: Raven’s Song by Zennic on Flickr

The Phone Number #1

Fiction

Exploring the tinsel town of Allahabad was an experience I wouldn’t dare to forget. I had been posted here only a few days ago and was working as a Graduate engineer trainee in one of the reputed construction firms. I had been sent here to add the numerical strength to the depleting supervising bench of the firm over there, which I was initially hesitant but later convinced myself when a convenient incentive was offered.

But I was all stuck and confused, as all the names of the shop were in Hindi and being a South Indian, it was bit of challenge to comprehend. But I did find the shop which I was looking for, the mobile recharge shop. I had to buy a new SIM as I couldn’t tolerate the roaming which was already killing my meagre salary. The shopkeeper assured me of activation within 24 hours, which in actual took another 24 to be put it in use.

And the first message as soon as the number got activated wasn’t even from the telecom provider but it was from some hot shot bank. I opened in curiosity and found lakhs of rupees being transferred into some account number which was also displayed along with the message. Within a span of one hour, I had ended up receiving 20 messages, each carrying a message from the same bank and the same amount. I didn’t think it was some advertising propaganda because the balance kept increasing and stood at an astonishing 1 crore rupees as displayed in the last message. I was in total disarray because I couldn’t comprehend such a huge transaction, all done in parts and all done on a single day.

Three days later

Sipping my tea while I watched the fog engulf the road ahead; the cold had started to take its toll but mind remained restless to know why these messages where delivered to me and why haven’t they stopped. As I unchecked the last message, the phone starts beeping again but all the more continuous this time, so I decided to answer to this unknown number, totally unaware of the mess I was getting into.


Writer’s Note: This is first of the three part series, titled “The Phone Number”.

The Conspiracy

Fiction

Eyes transfixed over the motionless fan above my head, as I cushion myself with the pillows on the bed. Roof was painted all white with no speckle of dust, may be it was recently refurnished, I thought to myself.

I was sweating beyond necessary, it was a normal day in my job and I was expected to remain calm. But there was something unusual, I felt that I have been set up and the police are on their way to pocket me. My accomplice was nowhere to be found, while the only thing saving me was the latched door. I knew outside that door, stood my doom.

It had to happen someday or the other as my profession has to use double-crossing blatantly. And the other thing, the most important one, was I had to maintain my record, 21-0; 21 successful robberies in 3 years without getting caught was something I didn’t want to break. Even today was a normal day, only thing which added was me pleading to my wife that this was my last. I knew I lied to her, as I had done time and time again. Being in this closed room, I think I should have listened to her. Though I did have a huge list of people who I should have listened, but I had always thought otherwise.

The police siren had started ringing and the intensity only grew with every second in the clock which kept staring at me. Staircase started to fill in with commotion, long cries being made out of shock, while the persons in uniform made their way to the fifth floor of the apartment where I had stood grounded.

Rolling over the bullets into my semi-automatic pistol, trying to pull the trigger but my inner conscience told me to wait for that right moment. I fixed my aim onto the door, waiting for it to be thrown open while I waited not to die alone.

All the previous robberies involved no blood but this was not usual, it was an accident from the very beginning. I never knew that I would walk into a pool of blood and name the murder around my name. The clues I had left, point the finger straight at me.

The main door started creaking slowly, and the sound of footsteps became audible. The fanatic in me had taken complete control over my senses, and it only made me sweat more profusely. Only the hand with the gun remained still, but the mind which controlled the trigger was really anxious. Eyes started to blur, giving indications that I might pass out real soon, but I knew I had to survive as I couldn’t come to terms to such an end.

I was here to create a legacy, by being that perfect thief, by being the Robin Hood for my people who needed miracles in order to survive.  But I knew that my way was wrong, and eventually I had succumbed to the greed of the profession, which I repent every single day. I wanted to change this; that was the very reason I had chosen this robbery at the house of the biggest smuggler in the city. But my stars had thought otherwise, the previous wrong doings had to catch up, someday or the other. The very trust, which I had broken many times, was now shattered by my own accomplice who I had trusted my life upon. Here I stand in a room with the dead body of a renowned smuggler, latched from outside by a friend who I felt betrayed from.

Latch was silently removed but I still could hear it, so I pulled the trigger back, to launch what might be my last act in this particular life. As the door was slammed open, I waited no second, and fired the bullet which stuck directly on to the accomplice’s forehead. As the motionless body transcended, I realized he was only there to help me rather than getting me caught. Even before I could shed a tear, there was another gun shot and this time I wasn’t that lucky. It pierced into my temple, making me motionless like the other bodies in the room, and I fell forward onto the feet of the police officer whose muzzle was still throwing smoke, fresh after its first shot.

Police radio transceiver shrieked voices between the two officers, each congratulating the other over the success of their mission. The officer, who had fulfilled the task on the ground, confirmed that three menaces were all down, and they didn’t have to worry about the smuggler anymore. Their propaganda had worked, they just needed to show it as a gang war which it had projected out to be, but the only thing that differed was that the setup in totality had been planted by the police themselves. The conspiracy to kill the biggest smuggler in the town needed a blanket to cover up and what better than a gang war. The others were collateral damage, where one points the finger towards the other, making the case a closed one and ready to be put into the archives. They knew their plan had worked, but their conscience was still mad at them. And they knew they had no plan to counter that…

The End.