ISAAC

It's tough being an old man in his twilight years...or twilight days perhaps. It's not so much about the fear of imminent death...it's about the fear of dying all alone, with no one being by your side when you breathe your last. And my fears have been exacerbated by a strange sequence of events that have occurred over the past couple of weeks. 

Old people like me often rely on family and friends for care and affection in their twilight years. I, however, do not have that luxury - because I never got married. Being a painter, I didn't think I would be able to devote time to myself, forget keeping a wife and dependent kids happy. There was no dearth of sex though, I've had encounters around army camps and within the town after I retired. Although I was usually careful to use protection, accidents do happen - I know of at least three accidents in my own town, all born to married women, and there could have been more. I obviously never got to know those three personally, but I did keep tabs on them - it is after all only human to want to know the well-being of your own flesh and blood.

The strange occurrences that I mentioned earlier started happening about 14 days ago. It was around 11 in the night, and I was sitting on my rocking chair. As always, I was staring out the window at the Church Bell Tower, a few hundred metres away from my house. Suddenly, I saw Isaac, a 20-something local retard, running up the tower's staircase. What he did next ran a chill down my spine. He looked in my direction, laughed like a maniac, grabbed the ropes to the Bell and tolled it once. Then he simply ran back down the staircase and disappeared into the darkness of the night.

It's true, behaviour such as this from a retard need not usually warrant any reaction. However, I cannot explain how it felt when he looked at me and laughed. The look in his eyes were sinister, and the laughter made me feel he had some really ugly plans for me. As an army man, I have stared death in the eye on innumerable occasions in the past; but this felt insidious.

My fears came true the following morning, when I got news of the untimely death of Wayne, the 15 year old son of Grace. Wayne and his mother lived four blocks away, along with her husband. Wayne was actually my son.

About five nights later, at exactly 11 pm, I once again witnessed the ghastly sight of Isaac running up the flight of stairs of the Tower. Once again, he looked in my direction, laughed out loud, and tolled the bell once, before running back down and into the darkness. The next morning, I got a call from Cindy telling me that 10 year old Martha had died in her sleep. Martha was my offspring too.

Since that day, I made it a point to ask about Isaac's whereabouts. Nobody kept tabs on him though. Not much was known about him anyway. Some people said he didn't even belong to our town, and that he came from a village nearby that had a bad name due to whores and their touts.

I called up my ex-girlfriend Suzy a couple of times to check on Jason. About 18 years ago, I had somehow managed to win her heart, inspite of being 20 years older at 48 at that time. We were serious about getting married, but she somehow found out that I had been bedding many other women and promptly called off the wedding, despite the fact that she was carrying my child. The guilt made me avoid staying in touch with her for all these years. She therefore, found it funny that I was suddenly concerned about Jason, after having stayed incognito for all these years. I didn't have the heart to tell her the truth though, and instead blamed it on age-related feelings of insecurity.

All signs of respite ended at 11 pm last night, when I saw Isaac once again.

This time, he didn't run, but slowly dragged himself up the staircase of the Tower. He looked in my direction, but with a look of dejection. He didn't laugh - instead he bawled.

And then, without warning, he leapt off the tower.

HOUSE-HUNTING

"Go away...you don't belong here."

I had barely even moved into my new home. I was pretty sure there was no one in there when I had made my first move, but had now realised how wrong I was. I had found it exactly where I was told I would find it, and in the same state as was described to me. It lay serenely, draped in marble-esque white, some places turning blue as melancholy, and overall cold as death herself. And yet, it had fresh coats of paint in all the right places. It was perfect.

But suddenly there was a problem. I had been expecting zero resistance. To be fair, Teacher did mention that there could be some presence. However, he had asked me to completely ignore any signals.

"Aaaaarrrggh...GET OUT OF HERE!!!" The shrieks were only getting louder.

I'll be honest...I've never been the type to lose sleep over trivial matters or the odd delusion, but the cries were startling and unsettling. But Teacher had warned against letting my senses and sensitivity blind me. I had to maintain my composure. House-hunting had seldom been an easy game anyway, and I have had to seek help to learn the art. I had lost count of the number of times that I have had to abandon fresh catch. The reasons had been manifold - incompatibility, weakness of structures, and the biggest spoilsport of them all, natural wear and tear. But as the game goes, I had to be patient. So it was only apt that I held on to what I had found and what was now rightfully mine. I casually ignored the voices and got back to getting comfortable in my new home.

But just then, things got even worse.

Two more entities appeared. One of them flashed a blowtorch at my face, while the other started barking strange incomprehensibles while giving me a long deathly stare.

"...behold the Cross of the Lord..."

I instinctively sensed clear and present danger.

So I quickly did what Teacher asked me to do in such a situation. I jumped out of the room through a glass window, with the young woman's body still in my control.

I think I've finally mastered the art of house-hunting.

Teacher will be proud.

Today's image is a click by Pune-based Manpreet Chauhan. She is pursuing a Master's degree in English Literature, and has previously worked as a pre-school teacher. She is an art buff and a loves to dance. Her muse in the pic is Rutika Patel. You can find Manpreet on Instagram at www.instagram.com/mannpreeeet and Rutuka at www.instagram.com/rutikap_

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Welcome to my first post of 2018. Hope the new year has been good for you guys so far. January had been chaotic for me. December was wonderful though - went on a vacation to Jaipur-Fatehpur Sikri-Agra. Posted a few clicks on Instagram. Hope you like them.

Cheers,

CRD

ROOM FOR TWO

Image Source: www.nationofchange.org

She heard the voice again.

Janice sprang off the bed and curled herself behind it, hoping to stay out of sight. Her heart was pounding heavily. It was a bone-chilling cold December night, and yet she could feel huge beads of sweat roll down her face. She was shaking and tears began to stream down her face, but she was careful not to make a sound. She began to pray in the hope of some sort of divine intervention.

And then she heard that voice again.

"I'm sure you have room for two...can I live with you?"

This was the twentieth time Janice had heard this question since the time she had moved into the room that afternoon. But she didn't respond.

Janice had only recently enrolled into the local university. Although the university had its own hostel, she was not open to the idea of spending her nights in a crowded dormitory. She had been lucky enough to find this room, that too at dirt cheap rates. She had overheard rumours about the room being spooky and previous inhabitants behaving a little crazy, but the prospect of assured privacy had been too hard to resist. She was now beginning to rue her decision. But she was determined to survive he night and move out the first thing in the morning.

The invisible entity, seemingly feminine persisted, "I'm sure you have room for two...can I live with you?"

"Why?", Janice mustered up some courage, although she was still unable to see where the voice was coming from.

"I'm lonely."

Silence.

The entity asked again, "I'm sure you have room for two...can I live with you?"

"OKAY!", Janice retorted, almost as if out of irritation, or probably in the hope that the entity would let her be if she gave in to her request.

The Spirit then possessed her body. Janice had now lost all control.

But she distinctly heard herself say, "Thank you Janice!", and let out a sinister laugh.

Please leave comments after reading, irrespective of whether you liked or didn't like a post. I don't bite (when I'm sane), Also, leaving a comment is absolutely safe, painless and only takes a minute (or two). Commenting is akin to having a conversation with the writer, and although I am pretty boring in real life, I'm a lot of fun in this avatar.

Previous posts in the A to Z Challenge - April 2016:-

A - Arsenal

B - Bruce Dickinson
C - Colourless
D - Dope
E - Ecstasy
F - Feast of Burden
G - G Spot
H - Horror: The Genre of Genres
I  -  Illusions
J  - Judas
K - Kuwait
L - Let It Be
M - Majority Wins
N - No Comments
O - Once Upon A Time
P - Pallbearer
Q - QWERTY

MAJORITY WINS

Image Source: www.citydad.net

The first rays of the 'Sunday' sun crept in through the gap in the curtains and fell on Simone's face. She jumped out of bed without caring to completely peel off the blanket. She checked her smartphone, wondering why the alarm hadn't gone off at 8 am. It was already 8:30 am, which meant that as usual, it was now going to be tough for them to get ready and reach Church in time for the Sunday morning 9 am mass. Nevertheless, the zealous Catholic woman that she was, she decided that with a little effort and prodding, they could still make it.

She tugged and nudged at her husband, "Blaine, wake up! It's time to go to Church. Let's not get late like last time!"

Blaine stayed concealed under the blanket and barely managed to moan back, "Aww...lemme sleep."

"Sweetheart, wake up NOW!" The nudges now turned into heaves and minor punches.

"Hey....stop that!", his voice was now loud and clear, but he still remained blanket-bound.

"WAKE UP YOU LAZY PIG!", her relatively gentle requests suddenly made way for a more aggressive and genuine approach. She knew how much he disliked going to Church. "We all want to go to Church, don't be such a dick!"

"All want to go? Who all?"

"Me, your mom and your dad. It's three against one. Let's go!"

He pulled off the blanket and sat upright on the bed, revealing flaming red demonic eyes, flaring nostrils and slimy clenched teeth. The voices within him snapped back in unison, "IT'S FIVE AGAINST YOU THREE...MAJORITY WINS!"

Of course, he then lay himself down, pulled the blanket back over his body and they went back to enjoy their Sunday morning snooze.

Previous posts in the A to Z Challenge - April 2016:-

A - Arsenal

B - Bruce Dickinson
C - Colourless
D - Dope
E - Ecstasy
F - Feast of Burden
G - G Spot
H - Horror: The Genre of Genres
I  -  Illusions
J  - Judas
K - Kuwait
L - Let It Be

HORROR - THE GENRE OF GENRES

A lot of people like horror movies. A lot many can't stand horror, and wonder why the hell some of us love the genre so much. Horror fans like me somehow can't fully explain why they love the genre so much - maybe it's the thrills, the chills and the edge-of-the-seat action, or maybe it's the endless supply of sleaze and eye-candy. The horror genre is the best in many ways, and although I wouldn't be able to do justice to glorify it, I feel like I need to write this so let the uninitiated know what they're missing out on.

Horror fans almost always get the bad end of the stick, because we love movies that pay tribute to death, gore, blood, monsters, ghosts, and sometimes (read almost always) generous dosages of heavenly bodies. We’re perceived to be twisted and disturbed, Satanic, and maybe even a wee psychotic? However, let's face it, all of us are a little 'crazy in the head' in our own little private lives, so what's wrong with enjoying a little bit of the morbid stuff. 

Being a horror fan can be rewarding. Since most of the people who are reading this post are humans, and since humans are not easily convinced unless they are presented with multiple point-reinforced justifications, here's presenting five reasons why horror is good.

1. People who love horror movies are perceived to be bravehearts - To our advantage, people who love watching horror movies (especially those who watch such movies alone) are thought to be brave and courageous. Of course, not many of the outsiders know that we ourselves sometimes (not me, honestly) pee in our pants while watching. It's something like riding in a rollercoaster - we all know that the ride can be scary, but we all also know that the experience is not gonna kill us at the end of the day.
2. A badly made horror movie is comedy - Horror fanatics sometimes are exposed to a whole lot of badly made movies. But that doesn't dampen our moods, it actually can be a mood-lifter. That's because badly-made horror movies are ultimately comedies - and some of them can be hillarious ROFL-stuff. If you ever decide to watch 'Manos - The Hands of Fate', you'll know what I mean.
3. Action-packed - Almost every horror movie has its share of sleaze. Since horror fans are almost always watching the movie alone, this means an opportunity for a lot of privacy and unadulterated adult-rated fun.
4. Source of employment - More often than not, actors who ran out of work earlier than they intended eventually find meaty roles in horror flicks. Closer home, actors like Prem Chopra, Vijay Raaz, Sharad Saxena, Shakti Kapoor, MacMohan, Kiran Kumar and many others regularly featured in B-Grade horror flicks by the Ramsay Brothers. In short, watching horror movies is our way of keeping the industry alive and supporting so many actors.
5. Connecting people - There's no better way to get people (especially of the opposite sex) closer than watching a horror movie together. The twists and turns and kilolitres of blood spilt offer thousands of opportunities for your crushes to reach out for your hand and shoulder. Of course, if you both are equally scared, it amounts to nothing and you should probably go attend a satsang or something.

Hope I have managed to convert a few people.

Alas, there is no escape now. If you do not watch a horror movie within the next week, you will be cursed with a 1000 sleepless nights due to visitations by an evil spirit (no, not the whiskey/vodka/tequila kind).

Bwahahahahahah* (evil laughter).

DON'T LOOK

The room was dark and silent, exactly the way I had seen it the last time my eyes were open. The fading embers of a torch on the wall was the only source of light, offering limited visibility in the dingy surroundings. The silence was deafening to the point that the only sounds I could hear were those of mysterious insects. The ambience of the room was far from inviting, but I had gotten used to it. Besides, I wasn't looking forward to having guests over anytime soon.

Hours of lying down in the same position had made my back sore. Barely had I shifted my once heavy frame to get into a more comfortable position when I saw those faces. I was certainly taken by surprise.

There were three of them, two males and one female. They were all standing, leaning over me. Their faces were pale and impassive, almost as if frozen, absolutely bereft of emotions. I felt extremely uncomfortable, because they were all staring at me. I hate being looked at.

I'm not sure whether my dislike of being looked at stems from my social phobia or from my inferiority complex. I had been grossly overweight and ugly for most of my adult life. Years of being ridiculed and laughed at for the way I looked had made me weary of social gatherings. I always detested being looked at because I thought people who were looking at me were judging me negatively.

They were still staring at me. I began thinking about the kind of pictures they were probably painting in their minds about me. The feeling was not so great, because I was pretty sure that those pictures were most probably hideous. I grew even more uncomfortable. The way they were looking at me...oh, I hated it!

I wanted to ask them to leave at once, but I couldn't speak, no matter how hard I tried. I could think, I knew what I wanted to say, but I couldn't speak. I knew quite well that the reason was obviously natural wear and tear. But I could not stand these intruders any longer. They were still staring at me...I hated it.

As always, all I needed to do to chase the intruders away was to sit up in my casket.