The night

Note: The I in the story is not me would be a false statement.

Hi all. I am Surya. I am 22 and I am working. What do I do? I write. Yes. I write for a living.

As I told earlier, I write for a living. I have a house of my own. Once I went outside to get some inspiration and a good start for my next writing exercise. It's because of the writer's block you know.
After a futile outing with little inspiration, I took a cab back home. As I was sitting in the cab I struck a conversation with the cab driver. He was a fairly built young man with a tattoo on his left forearm. He was around my height which is 5'10. He came from a rural background and the family situation forced him to earn early on.

Before I could ask questions which would help me understand him and his personality, my house arrived and I had to get off.

I was frustrated with myself as the day was unproductive creatively. As I went to the door and took out the keys to open the lock but it wasn't there!!

I was surprised. Shocked rather. I am a very meticulous person. I always double check before I leave the house. And I very well know that when I locked my house (which I did), there was this regular hawker who went selling peanuts. Also, I remember very well the call that came when I forgot the phone inside and I had to open the house, fetch my phone and locked the door again.

Since, it wasn't locked I was surprised.

I went inside my own house stealthily (how ironical is that!). I tiptoed my way into the bedroom where I keep most of my valuables and found that everything was exactly the way I left them. The bedspread folded. The closet half closed and the drawer locked.

I went to the kitchen and even there everything was in its place.

Everything was in its place, no money stolen, no books taken away, no clothes stolen then what was the person searching for?

With a mental note to inform the police the next day I went ahead with my days' other chores.After a nice wash to shrug my weariness and a nice dinner and I went and lay down on the bed with a book in my hand.  As I was reading I smelled something.... Something really fragrant.... I thought it was coming from the house next door as they are into making agarbattis, but they are away...  Then who could be it or what could be it...

Curious I opened the window to see if anybody was brewing something fragrant in the streets. But no... Who is it?

I went to the door to see if anything was at my doorstep. As I opened the door... there I saw... a giant creature...

A gross, grotesque, hairy, scary, one-eyed, six-limbed monster it was.

To make matters worse it also had the head of the cab driver who dropped me in its mouth and one of his hands in one of its limbs.

I could even see the tattoo that he had in the forearm that was once part of his living body.

Scared out of wits I started to run inside the house. There was no place to go inside... I just kept running from room to room.

The monster soon cornered me and there I was standing... sweating profusely... waiting.... for death to come... hoping for a miracle...

Not being able to keep my eyes open, I closed them tightly as the creature inched towards me.

When I opened my eyes, there it was...




























The ceiling fan.


P.S.: Thanks for reading the note thrice.