A Psyche Collision (standard:Psychological fiction, 1914 words)
Author: Walker	Added: Apr 22 2008	Views/Reads: 4083/2642	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
two pyscho minds collide...

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

arranged the dinner over the hill where it would just be the two of 
them. She sat down and began talking. He answered only in nods or 
expressions. After dinner he poured wine and then popped the question 
out of the blue. She was in tears. “I have always loved you.” “I love 
you too, sweetheart. I have made all the arrangements and we will marry 
next weekend and then I will take you to my town where we will live 
together for all eternity.” 

‘People fear death even more than pain. It's strange that they fear
death. Life hurts a lot more than death. At the point of death, the 
pain is over. So it is a friend.' Now this was to be explained to her. 
He drove back but stopped in front of a flower vendor just a 5 minute 
walk from her home. He went and fetched a red rose; gave it to her and 
kissed her on the cheek. “I am running low on gas. Could you walk from 
her?” “But I wanted you to come home.” “I will, tomorrow.” She left and 
he started the car. Gave a quick glance to the flower vendor and 
smiled. He didn't acknowledge. 

He had hardly gone a kilometer when he pulled over to the side. Got out
of the car and eased himself while his eyes scanned the perimeter. Not 
a soul in sight. He quickly traced his way back to her house. Waited 
for a while to listen for any infrequent sounds and when he was sure of 
everything he knocked on her door. She opened and shouted in thrill. 
“Oh my God, it's you. Come in, come on.” 

He went and stood by the window. He had hardly opened his mouth to say
something when the lights went out. She went into the kitchen to get a 
lantern. He could listen to the tinkling of her anklets; a nice 
haunting vibration crept into him. She came out and hung the burning 
lantern in the center of the room. The flame fluttered in the wind but 
kept alive. He stood by the window watching closely her finest 
movements. There was a slight limp in her right leg. Her fingers also 
trembled while holding the lantern. She spoke keeping her eyes away 
from him, giving all the wrong clauses in between sentences. Was 
something wrong? Had she become suspicious? She came up to him. “What's 
the matter? Why are your looks so dull? ” She sounded confident. “I'm 
fine. But what's with you?” “Oh, you noticed. I feel off the chair 
while cleaning the fan this morning. It's been hurting since then.” 
“Why didn't you tell me before?” “I didn't want to spoil a perfect 
evening. But why are you acting so jumpy?” “Nothing.” He looked away. 
Her hand slid along the sill and rested on his. He pulled it away. She 
reached up to him and put her arms around his neck and touched his lips 
softly. The wind picked up as he stared into her ‘undress me' eyes. An 
evil smile rose from inside. He returned the favor. That's when the 
wind blew the lantern out. 

The next morning there were flies swarming all over the residence. A
wretched smell had engulfed the whole surrounding. The police was 
trying to get their hand at whatever evidence they could. A steel glass 
was found rolling on the table dripping of blood. Her head was hanging 
from the ceiling with a rope attached to her hair. The white sheets 
were stained all over. Chopped fingers and toes had been bagged in a 
transparent bag. Her anklets were entangled in guts hanging from the 
window. But neither her body nor any weapon was discovered. The 
Inspector-in-charge was questioning everybody who had at any point in 
time known the girl or talked to her or even had the slightest idea of 
her identity. People said she deserved this; she was a witch. The 
flower vendor communicated his knowledge of an incident. “If this is 
important; I know she came back late last night with the sahib who 
lives down the hill.” “How come?” “He had bought some flowers for her 
then. She had left walking from there and he drove back.” “Does anyone 
of you know his residence?” The young chaiwallah (tea vendor) offered 
to take him there. 

He was found with his face buried within his arms on his dining table.
Morphine syringes were lying carelessly. Brown sugar cartridges were 
also found. The inspector pulled him back. A stream of blood ran down 
his nose and his mouth was covered with froth. He was dead. Drug 
overdose. His house was searched. Nothing substantial was found except 
for a letter sealed in an envelope. It read: 

“My death is my own choice. None to blame. Whoever finds this should
look for a file in my wardrobe locker to know more about my feats and 
me. To kill an attraction is my hobby. But somehow it changed this 
time. What went wrong I don't know but I curse myself for this. I would 
like to bring up the fact that for once killing the girl had dropped 
out of my mind. But after our vigorous love making session came to an 
end, she told me that she had something to reveal. I was still reeling 
under the effect of this new toxin called love and had decided to start 
off on a new note when her words hit hard on me. She told me that she 
was suffering something incurable: Acquired Immuno Deficiency Syndrome. 
She laughed that it appealed to her that she made people fall into the 
same category. She told me that she knew that I had come to her village 
from day one and she had seen me following her that morning. She had 
played all along. ‘The most loving people commit murder with smiles on 
their faces. They force us to destroy the person we really are: a 
subtle kind of murder.' The entire wrath sprang up again and I executed 
my plan for which the results are displayed. My only happiness that I 
carry forward is she never expected that her curtains would drop this 
way. Many came and went her way but I did what should have been done 
much earlier.” 

“Both were sick.” The inspector took the file and left. 

© Walker Thoughts & Concepts 


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