Sunday, August 25, 2013

“Brother, this never happened”- The Blood-Marred Thriller....

“Mandy, I wish…I could kiss you right now… the punk was deeply absorbed in her eyes….his grip had transformed into an inflexible ligature by then.

I could sense her extent of discomfort, “the gripe”; there was very little I could do.

 But surprisingly, she didn't protest. Her reaction was rather invigorating.

“Take it easy Mike”….She calmly shoved him away as the waiter turned around the corner and gently served the Sauvignon–brimming-pair. She looked beautiful, bathed in the reddish-yellow faded tinge…..

Well, then what was I doing there?

Overhearing conversations could be termed as licentious, but then, as far as I’m concerned, the essence of extricating a stimulating series of random information is quite driving force. I wasn’t a keen listener in my school days because of the simple fact that I wanted to be “different” ; I never wanted to replicate my nerdy classmates who paid attention just for the sake of it. My report card had always invited a “red sparklet” adjacent to the “response in the class” segment because I just wanted act “opposite” of the general postulates; but then, I’d been perversely attracted towards the “inconsequential” predicaments, “gorging” on them exultantly. Those bits and pieces of information appeal to me more than anything else, I am in a committed relationship with the sense of “incompleteness”, because that propels me…it inspires me to hunt for those disjointed clues and merge them together to “synthesize sense”. The concept of “snooping around” doesn't bear a negative implication in my dictionary. Yes, I thrive on the principle of “Chaos having an underlying order”…I have modified the phrase to suit my prodigious purpose!

Well….the conversation, by then, had taken a taciturn bend; the duo had shifted to a “coded-glace-mode-of-expression” as they helped themselves with the “fresh served liquor”. I did make desperate attempts to “decode” their eyebrow-movement, but then I probably “had better things to do”. I slowly stepped aside with my mug of beer and plugged in those earphones; my world was begrudging & uncharacteristically lyrical by then.
“Dude”…I murmured to myself…”This convo could have been damn spicy…the liquor, my friend, impaired it”.

“THWAAT”…..Heck! What was that? I’d almost seeped into a “Comfortably Numb” trance when the scrunching tumult woke me up; it was still September though. I turned around in horror to see the bar-tender rushing in hysterically to the “moist zone of trauma”….! Was it a pool of blood?  

“Dude, wake up….come back to senses”….someone poked me from inside…; yes, perhaps… I’d taxed myself too much on a biting Monday. That extra peg was the real spoiler.

“Do you think it is a bloody prank?”…the lady in red was pretty much leaking crimson it seemed…I was DRUNK. Okay!

“No, sweetheart, believe me…you don’t know the truth”….the punk staggered along the wine-rinsed floor, carefully bypassing the broken pieces of glass.

Okay, Thank GOD! It wasn't blood!..But then, somebody had “lost it” BIG TIME!… the inanimate piece of crystal was brutally slaughtered as a mere aftermath…it lay there, on the floor, almost un-noticed deceased and “life-less”!

“Don’t try to come close…” – She warned…” You were literally befuddled when we took out the cash”….waves of vicious chagrin emanated of her shaking voice. Her charm had almost disappeared by then.

“Haha…I wasn’t drunk that night”….The wobbling punk stopped midway. His diffidence had suddenly transformed into a sagacious articulation, his eyes were glittering sharply.

“Bloody Liar…I had seen your glass…….” – Her words were cut short as the “thug” divulged into a hysteric laughter. We were stoned silent; the silence of death.

Cough syrup it was!!….hahaha….” – His “bemused” voice resonated through the forlorn lounge…”Gotcha baby!” – He continued….

“And you know what I did with the money? See this…I donated it…” – He asserted as he snatched out an electronic receipt out of his ragged over-coat and flicked it into the air. I could catch a glimpse of the official UNICEF logo right on top of the note.

“You scoundrel….”- She was literally fuming by then, her gaudy makeup had been critically distorted at the acerbic impact….”I will kill……Argghhhh”…..

She had accidentally stepped onto a broken piece of glass in “pursuit of revenge”, the hemorrhage seemed severe as she perched onto the floor in perceptible discomfort….it was pretty evident who the “scoundrel” was.

“Brother, let’s make a move, she thinks it was a prank….”- My trance broke with his quiescent conjecture. The lad was standing right in-front of me; I didn't even notice. The sequence of events had hypnotized me; my presence had been “marked”.

The pub was draped in a suffocating stench…the obnoxious trails of wine mingled with blood and “vicious darkness”.

“Brother, this never happened”…Predicated the punk as he guided me to the bar- exit.

* This is a work of fiction & doesn't bear resemblance with any person, living or dead. The "images' are illustrative !
** This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda !

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