Tag: shortstory

the bishop (2/4)

“The idiots always spoil…” Bishop speaks on his phone while crossing the street “ These brats only step up to get themselves killed..”

The lane is dark except for the cigar lit by him. Being a bishop, his senses detected a stalker in a dark coat. The image zig-zagged the motion to remain hideous.

He trashed the cigar and aimed his revolver into the thick air,

“Alright, you’ve got my attention. Now, make your excuse freaking reasonable…” he waited for few seconds.

“I am…not here to kill you..”

“That ain’t reasonable for a stalker…”

“I..uh just want to meet you alone.”

“Then get your shady face into the light, will you ?”

The sight of a sharp nose and with a round belly, a man in 30’s witnessed before the Bishop.

“Well, this goes in one way. Say and leave in three minutes, okay… ”

“Yeah..” he continued, “The game is going down. I don’t know when but it will happen within a week. Though the politics is a gamble, It was the step taken to change the traditional perspective. There are orders to kill every player…” he began to explain his words,

“Careful now, Cowboy,” Bishop says, while the man reaches for his pockets. He takes a parcel and gives it to the bishop.

“I came to knew that you’re the only person to turn the events…”

“Time’s up, fellow. Keep walking…”

The man knew well enough that no one ever made the bishop to say twice. While he is leaving,

“The tomorrow is our enemy, bishop.”

Bishop began to walk with a parcel in his hands and swirling thoughts inside the head. He opened the parcel and saw the image of the two bosses in a bar.

“It is impossible, unless…”

Bishop never thought that the kings would make their own arrangements.

 

Cont’d…

Thank you for reading…

the bishop (1/4)

The bishop locked himself in the way of my queen, with the support of a pawn. The young guard is happy that he was tempted for a certain victory. He even forgot my thirty years of experience to tackle such situations and,

“There you go…Nice move, isn’t it ?”

To my defense, I was a little preoccupied with a thought. Chess is a game of patience. I know that he holds a leverage but I highly doubt that he can withstand the power.

On the evening of March the 8th and at the age of seventy, I sat playing chess with an amateur.

“Do you want to know about a Bishop in my real life ?”

“No…Now, you can’t trick with your stories…” he said, making a hand sign to make my move.

I told him one on our second game and my victory brought some complaints.

After seven minutes, when the timer between the moves took more than two minutes…

“A bishop, huh…” He looked at me.

Well, I couldn’t blame him as he probably never heard a story about a bishop.

“What do you about him..?” I pointed to his Bishop.

“It…ahh…. moves across and kills whatever, it can…”

“Yes, it is rather unused by many players but it is one of the most powerful players in the game…”

“I don’t understand..”

“Whatever the situation that he may face, he would never step out of his reasons. Either the black or the white, no one can intimidate him…”

“How did you met him..?”

“It was not exactly an official introduction. When I was of your age, the bishop almost got me killed…”

“Is it…?” His hand went under his chin,

“So, what did the majesty call his bishop…?”

I could see that he is calling my bluff but I decided to proceed anyway,

“Cristian Mihai…”

 

-Cont’d…

Thank you for reading…

 

the dead corpse (4/4)

We stared at the three barrels of rum, amusing the skills that took to bury them in the ground for so long. I say that they’ve done a  good job. After hours of digging that let nothing but an ounce of sweat, it finally surfaced at the verge of our hopes at the expense of a quitter. “What do you think ?” my partner asked looking towards the two boys.He lifted a barrel and waited for my answer.

And the boy with a brown skin took a steady pace, along with his friend. “Happy new year, sir…”

“Well, we shall see…” I said at the three on the ground level. The deal was to take one for each, but the fate intervened to quit our third partner. It also happens to set up with the two fortunate lads, less than five feet tall with those heads inclined to meet that of mine.

“You see that I am an honest man, even in this devilish business. Say that I’m kind and take three hundred rupees each…”

The boy looked surprised and,

“It is in my grandfather’s grave…”

“And you two think that it gives a leverage, boy. A week ago, you didn’t know anything about the place…”

“There is a word they call…” my partner stumbled for a word,” Inheritance…”

I took seven hundred and gave them to the boy. I gave an extra hundred just out of curiosity, to see how he shares with his friend, instead…

“We want a barrel..”

The boy finally said their extreme point of demand and my partner began to laugh.

“A barrel for a boy who barely stops pissing his bed.” My partner rhymed his words and I couldn’t resist purchasing a grin.

I went near him and,

“Are you a Christian?”

“Yes.”

“You do pray a lot, don’t you?”

“Yes, we do…”

“You get what thy deserves, don’t  you? I once read in your…”

And just like that, it happened.

After few seconds of confusion, the boy began to wear the grin. In fact, I would’ve done the same. A lazy kid in the neighborhood or a teenage prick might have lit a cracker, with either a tail in a wrong direction or to poke the graveyard. It came straight towards my partner who was carrying two barrels, and in his second of ignorance, he began to defend himself with one of the barrels. It only took a tiny spark for the long-awaited alcohol to suffice the thirst and thereby, it took the first shot at our drinks.

Four of us sat beside a tombstone and began to taste rum from the leaks, with smoke and sparks in the sky, slipping into hours of the new year.

 

-The End

-Thank you for reading…

the dead corpse (3/4)

It wasn’t the same without my thick-skinned friend, with neither left to challenge nor to trick. Living in an abyss of utter predictability or with a ‘tick-tock’ in a loopy minute made me visit his neighborhood. I wonder that if anyone would remember his face or his ugly grin at the end of every question.

I walked past through the narrow streets and it took me an hour to reach their apartment. The street looks more like an orphanage as almost every window is preoccupied with a kid or an adult, waiting for someone. My friend used to say that the stranger gets at least a ten-people stare. I counted and the results began to surpass,

“What the hell…” The Orphan came towards me.

“Jesus, where have you been for a month?” I asked him.

“In my house, duh..”

“What happened to your nose?”

“A little scar from an accident…”

“Is that accident involve someone with a heavy arm…” I used his words and his trademark grin.

“It’s serious. Get out of here….”  He insisted.

“What is going on?”

“Get out…”

“Seems like I have got a choice…”

“Don’t kid around. They will be coming any minute.”

“It is a good start. Will ‘they’ tell me anything ?”

It pissed him off and fell while trying to push me… A white paper with a name ‘Gohjer Thompson’ slipped from his pockets.

“Gohr…”

He took his paper from my hands and began to leave,

“So, what’s my grandfather is doing in your pockets, huh?”

His eyes lit with a spark of fear and with a certain knowledge,

“What? You’re no Thompson…”

“But my grandfather is. Well, my father has chosen a different surname yet…”

“Then you’ve just walked into a real trouble, boy.” said a voice over my shoulder.

 

-cont’d

Thank you for reading…

 

 

the dead corpse (2/4)

The threshold of excitement let me walk at the strangest hour beside the people who have said to be dead, a long time ago. I used to read a lot of comics or the adventures book yet the true part of miracles never seem to happen.

This morning while I was having a conversation with my friend, he doubted that I had broken the governor’s bone in the graveyard.

“I didn’t break…”

“Come on, someone broke it last night and I doubt you for…”

My thoughts went on and regretted not being a part of such sensation. The night gave a chance to cross the last mile. I went to the graveyard and began to hear the whispers of three gravediggers,

“What do you think of that Old man…?” Said a short one.

“What Old man…?” Said a bald man with a mustache.

“Jesus…The one we are looking for. What else am I supposed to talk…?” replied the short one. The third one kept his calm and kept digging a grave.

“I don’t know. Maybe the guy who loves to drink a lot.”

“Ey. I agree to that.” The short man stopped and, “No madman would want to bury thousands of rum under his ass…”

“How would that rum taste like?” asked the other.

“The liquid diamond, I would say.” continued the other man. “I hear that a ten-year-old rum worth thousands…”

“Shut you lazy mouths, for god’s sake. We would’ve got that madman ass if not for your whinings.” The third man finally yelled and the others got back to digging.

I waited to listen for more information or at least, to finish their digging.

“The gods are not in our favor, brother. This is not my first work yet the cruelest one to speak of.” the short one kicked on an empty tombstone, “We’ve been working for over a month and look what we’ve got.”

“There are a lot of Thompsons here, man. We could’ve…” said the other one.

“These are the heirs of the True Thompsons. So, let us go for an another.” The third one ordered.

“I am done, guys.” The short one finally lost his patience,” I don’t like to be any part of this deal. It was fun to create a dead governor and the implanted fear that brought us some time. Don’t you see that the longer we go the hopeless it was.”

“Take a look around, Sam.” said the third one, “Many people are dead unsatisfied or not knowing about their purpose. You have a shovel and yet, you argue with God about hope. You are the dead living, aren’t you?”

It wasn’t so dramatic as I’ve expected and as such the short man left the graveyard.

As I was about to leave, cold pair of hands anchored on my shoulders,

“We don’t like visitors, you see…” said the third one.

 

-Cont’d

-Thank you for reading…

 

 

the dead corpse (1/4)

The window of five minutes on every morning walk slave my imaginations in terror. It is first of its kind to transform into something very peculiar.

“The funny thing, isn’t it?” My thick-skinned friend gave an awkward grin.

I would’ve yelled that the white skeleton of a human is not funny if only he had said it a month ago. When some people began to take notice of it in a graveyard unattended, they buried it yet the fantasies of the dead traveled quicker than any means. It is used to resurface every week, mostly depend on the depth.

Every eye caught the shape of a large jaw and a perfect set of tooth. Rumours became a myth and scripted for shiny things,

The lady with a mic read as she practiced.

“….began to come from far places and even began to take selfies with it. Locals say that the skeleton belongs to a governor in the British reign and he is known to be a good man to look after his people. As his greed began to overpower him, a saint cursed him that he would never die as his skeleton will also be alive, being a governor…”

I must confess that I am a little coward to step into such ludicrous affairs. Unfortunately, I have to say about my thick-skinned friend without which the story wouldn’t have begun.

The tall boy said to be born in the coastal region, neither tough nor ambitious but enough to cause trouble with an arrogant mind.

“Well, What do we do?” He asked me, while I joined him in the college.

“I don’t know. Let’s do something interesting.”  He thought for a while and,

“How about we break another bone of the governor?”

“Why? He is a dumb toy, sitting….Wait, how did you know about the broken bone?”

“I saw that on the TV.”

He isn’t looking at me and more importantly, he knows that I can find out.

“That’s too early for the news, isn’t it?”

 

Cont’d…

Thank you for reading…

 

 

the true heir (4/4)

“What are you thinking ?” she asked the boy.
“I don’t know.”
“Then you are…”
” Which is…?”
“Thinking about your problems…”
“I’m fine.”
“Alright. But remember that you can always tell me.”
“Do you like it ?”
“What do you mean ?”
“Things that are to be done after college… Your passion for being a chef and your obligation of being something. What I am saying is that you could make money but you won’t be able to transfer hope to the next generation.”
“No one can talk about hope as it is infectious. And, on a second thought, what do you hope for…?”
“That everything is possible if you start something…”
“That is one big ‘If’. Besides, What am I going to lose ?”
“Nothing and Obviously, you gain nothing…”
“Look, your opinion doesn’t matter. It’s always good to take a promising career first.”
“And after making money…”
“What the hell happened to you. You don’t always ask these many questions.”
“Don’t mind. Whatever it is, I always like you for not judging me. I just want to wish you for your life.”
“Oh, Finally, huh… Thank you and you know that I always reflect the same of your wishes.”
They parted in good spirits. They’ve decided to meet the others on every new year.
One fine morning after two weeks,
Sanjay found that his son was missing with a slip glued to the mirror.
Dad,
I am not sure to start this journey at this very night. Especially, when there are a lot of whispers around me.
I’ve had some revelations in the recent days. A wise man once quoted, when someone didn’t lose everything when they don’t have anything, then they are in the sight of a true success. I began to feel the truth in every prospect. I wonder why it took me this long to start a journey to see the actual beginning of my problems. Good thing is that I wasn’t afraid of them. I don’t know that I return with success or with a lot of happiness or at least when the society has a different opinion about life.
P.S… I wouldn’t blame anyone if you’ve found few bucks less in your wallet.

Sanjay felt the joy to keep the letter inside his pocket and proudly, walked away.

 

—THE END–

Thank you for reading…

 

 

the true heir (3/4)

“What’s the point, dad ?” he finally asked, rubbing his blue eyes.

“Just a few minutes away.”

He parked near a hotel and took a walk along the deserted road.

“Come along…”

Sanjay stopped near a huge billboard, with an advertisement of a bulb on it.

“This is it…?”

“I am going to tell you a truth, son”

“Okay, this is a bit scary.”

“Look at that bus stop. My name used to be famous for this place, like the one of a kind. There was a lot of praises and wishes from my friends. This is the farthest place that I’ve traveled from my hometown. Everyone says that my broken fingers wasted my career. But the truth always makes me a culprit.” He continued,

“It’s not that I didn’t love playing cricket. But I didn’t have the courage to go for the last mile to achieve it. If I say a reason to convince you, it may not be the truth. I could’ve blamed my mother or the whispering neighbors or my ego to challenge a bowler only to hurt the naked fingers, but it doesn’t matter.”

Sanjay said, looking away from his son. When he turned towards his son, his eyes were attentive as ever could be.

“Son,…” It was new for both of them, “When you love something, make sure to cross the extra mile. Life is always a quest to find your true happiness. It is rather tempting but never compromise on your dreams.”

Later on, they walked away.

 

-Cont’d

-Thank you for reading…

the true heir (2/4)

From the rooftop, the view of city lights and their struggle to glitter let the boy slip into unconsciousness.

Five stories below, where the conversations are still alive…

“You are a terrible father, Sanjay” she was in a bad mood, “How could you allow our only son to drink such terrible things…”

“He made it out of the college. He deserves it.” He tried to convince her.

“Did we ?”

“What ?”

“Did we got that enjoyment when we are of his age…?”

“Are you unhappy that no one offered you a drink…”

“Look, my point is that the discipline is essential for everyone.”

Sanjay walked out of the kitchen and switched the channel to watch sports.

“Stupid cricket.” her mother almost snapped for missing her serial.

Cricket is a point of relief in Sanjay’s organized life. The moments of his youth came alive to him at the sound of the commentary.

 

….His thoughts brought him the memorable defeat of a local match by 5 runs at the age of 13. He was the last batsmen amongst the batting order. He knows that confidence of batsmen is an essential feature, especially when the team is down by 5 wickets and needs 26 runs in next six overs. He remembered how the seniors congratulated him for a tough fight. But one of them came near him and said,

“Keep playing. But never think that some praise will do any good to you.”

….His fifteenth birthday came up and no one in the neighborhood plays a game without him. He became well-known to play strokes with an impeccable timing.

An excerpt from the local newspaper,

….in the five-day test match. The Seventeen-year-old boy padded up and saved the day for the local team. He survived two days of severe bowling attack from the opposition. It wasn’t exactly a batting friendly ground when the pitch helps the ball to swing yet the determination of the boy has finally won. After a long battle, he looked happy and surely, very much exhausted….

….He went to play at the district level and a player like him couldn’t avoid the ‘Mr.classy’ nicknames.

His name went rounds to list in the Dileep trophy.

Yet Sanjay’s life was never a walk in the park. It is in the winter that a ball crushed his fingers and was unable to lift them for three months. It was even painful when he found that he can’t play the game without the doubt to risk his health. Past is beautiful when the pain he has felt mean something.

“why do you even see this stuff…?” His mother interrupted his thoughts just as ever.

He was no stranger to her irritation,

“How’s that sticks and bats of yours would give us any food, beta.”

“We pay for your school and you roam around…”

“You got no responsibility, Sanjay.”

Next morning,

He took a leave of absence from the office and decided to spend the whole day with his son. Sanjay knows that his son wants to be an author yet living in a fantasy of a lie. Upon the first hour of their ride, neither of them spoke a word.

One from a drowsy night and the other for an enlightened future.

 

-Cont’d

-Thank you for reading…

the true heir (1/4)

The 21-year old didn’t hesitate to take an extra glass of alcohol.

“College is an addiction, isn’t it?” he let his sharp voice to spread evenly among his friends.  It was on a twilight day that the three graduates decide to share their happiness.

“Just half a glass and now, he is on…” Said the other, with a chuckle.

“Addiction…Huh?” she finally asked, submitting to the temptation.

“Don’t encourage him.”

“Come on, let’s play a game. Explain it to us and if you can’t convince…” As she struck with words to fall out,

“Convince you. I don’t need to.” He continued, “Let’s make a toast.”

“Before anything, I would like to suggest you something…” his friend continued, “I know you want to be a writer. I know your knowledge to reform make you say crazy. Remember, we live in a crazy world where neither is ambitious nor encouraging. The system was always corrupted and people who would try probably end in a bad shape. I know your rush as hormones at this age but….”

His friend changed his posture and continued,” I once knew a friend very much like the passion of yours. An exact same ambition yet he isn’t wise enough to take my advice. He went around raising his collar to find his goals and now, you won’t believe me the position he’s in. He finally said that I am right. I am not saying that as a victory to me, but it’s just a good foresight. Everyone isn’t aimless, look at our friend…” he pointed his hand to her.

“Don’t bring my reasons…”

“No. It’s not an embarrassment to make a right choice. Besides, who am I to judge you. I am not offending you, my friend. But you must be able to grasp the reality of the situation. And for the toast,

‘To us for making money’.” said his friend.

“Fancy that…” she said, clipping their glasses.

The third one finally raised his glass and said,

“Sure.”

 

-Cont’d

-Thank you for reading.