Devoid

She had been eyeing that attic for quite some time now. Afraid to approach it. She was trained to flight situations like these throughout her life. Though currently, she is helpless. Whatever lies inside that cabin can't be as dangerous as the man-eating tiger on the loose. According to the locals, the man-eater has claimed three lives in past two weeks. The attic is flawlessly camouflaged in this dense forest. There hasn't been any movement to suggest its occupation. Though, there are some footmarks to put her in a dilemma. She learnt long back how to differentiate between paw-prints and that of a giant man.  It's been an hour. She has to approach. Out here, she is a sitting duck. Every minute decreases her survival chances significantly.  A gentle thud on the door makes her recede herself. The door was drenched. Surprisingly it has been raining since morning. Pretty unusual, she wonders. She gathers herself and makes a valiant effort to knock with more spirit. A loud one ...

I lately bought a 3-century old palace in my native town. It looks magnificent from the exterior. The royalty is palpabl e when you approach it.  It requires a bit of cleaning, no doubt. But with time, I understood that people were wary of working even around this palace, let alone inside. Apparently, this is one of those haunted castles we keep hearing about.  After a long and arduous effort, I found 4 helpers. They were ready to work with me and an old guide who was a mute. He provided his knowledge by writing things down on paper. My wife and I were okay with it. During the 2nd day of our refurbishment, I heard the helpers stampeding towards my chamber. Their faces flushed, sweat dribbling profusely from their forehead.  "Maalik (Master), we are hearing the sound of ghungroo (a musical anklet) from that old room," one of them said pantingly. "But the room is locked since ages!" I exclaimed. We all rushed towards that room. The helpers weren't lying. You could...

The world has evolved a lot since the last murder. The Government detects sociopaths and psychopaths beforehand through personality processing and prevents any loss of life. Though I constantly knew how to outwit the system. I have sustained my social score above 8.3, which is above 95% of the general population. For other impulsive crimes, the accused is judged by a jury of 4 people. It involves the sufferer. The person to whom you have been most helpful. The person to whom you has been most offensive, and the person who was saved by your action. I have been accused of killing, and everyone is horrified. Evidently, my case is a global sensation. Well, I did kill Robert, but only because he was bothering my girl, Sara. With my social score, they couldn't find anyone eligible to take the mean spot. And since this is the first killing in decades, the dead victim can't testify now, can he! They are baffled. I've adored Sara since our childhood. Arranged everything to make her...

  Today, I’m launching my first app. It’s a big deal for me. My name is Jae, by the way. I’ve waited for this day for as long as I can remember. To be precise, 20 years, 6 months and 3 days. I’m 32 now.  Since childhood, I’ve had an absurd fascination with technology. If anything new is in the block, I would be the first one to dismantle it. To know how it worked. Later on, I learnt multiple coding languages to shape myself to understand all the logic and algorithms the developers have used to create that product.  Some said I was marked. Others described it as merely an obsession. Anyway, here I’m, the man of the hour. All the spotlights will be on me tonight. It is a bit overwhelming, to be honest. People will be glorifying me more than my product. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not criticising, I mean who doesn’t relish being the centre of attention once in a while but it would be more pleasant if they make my product, the main talk point of tonight’s event. When someone asks...

  "RUN RUN RUN AND DON'T YOU DARE TURN YOUR BACK", The last words I remember catching before everything faded away. 10 years. 10 freaking years! That's how long they've had held me captive. I knew it when I had joined the army. I knew this was going to be a one-way ticket. "No one comes back from the war my son. Well, not in their entirety," my uncle had said. But I wasn't about to fiddle. My country needed me. Pride over prime, the motto we used to live by. To be honest, I was surprised that I could even run. A decade of solitary confinement is ought to rot your muscles. Though they failed to crumble my will. I ran like a loose hound—my prey being freedom. The land under my feet was far from being firm. It felt like hopping on a water bed. After hours of sprinting, which later turned into me dragging my feet to just somehow maintain my upright positioning, I couldn't keep it up anymore.  I was sure I had left the guards baffled. But I also knew ...

  "They for sure are wrong. I should never have listened to Ralph. Ohhh I don't know how he is gonna react to it. Well, it was his idea anyway! I told him I didn't wanna see any doctor. But the stubborn jerk still convinces me! 'Do what your parents say, they know the best'. Huh!" Perplexed between the thoughts whether to tell Ralph what the doctor said or to just brush it under the carpet, Hikaru juggled with his fingers in the back seat of their Bentley. Appointments were scheduled many times but Hikaru always pulled something and ducked the confrontation. He kept on stating there's nothing wrong with him. Though his parents were supportive for most of his decisions, they were adamant about this one. The word has started to go around. Nakamuras were very respected among their community and neighbourhood. As we know, wealth brings friendship and respect. They had a reputation to maintain. Rich people have sources and one such source revealed to Mr Nakamur...

The below-mentioned event is not a story but a letter from James B. Rayne, a decorated secret service officer of England to his wife Emma. James is currently working on a 40-day-long assignment in Congo. Something very unusual happened with James during his 2nd week but it still wasn’t worth mentioning since, in his line of work, things have to be more than illegal to even be borderline strange. He writes this letter, the night before his flight back home. Willis palace, Arthur Street, County hall, Nottingham. Hi, Emma, I’m writing this letter because I think I’m losing my mind. I can’t share this with anyone else apart from you. The only other friends I have are from work and I’m certain they will not keep this a secret and will deem me unfit for my assignment. You must be worrying about what made me put down this letter. Do follow my words carefully my love for it may seem implausible at times. While it had only been 10 days, things were moving smoothly. I had my curated routine and ...