Saturday 15 September 2012

Flash Fiction 2012, Third Prize, Vishal Gupta

Friday, The Thirteenth

February 13th, 2009. 8 am. A Friday.
I saw her. She looked lovely, like always. This was the day, I could see it in her eyes. She looked at me. Smiled. I smiled at her too. Slowly, she moved close to me; checking, if I was ready. Honestly, I was never more prepared. She sat beside me.
Slowly, she said, “The time has come dear.”

I saw the fire in her eyes. I knew it. Yet, I could do nothing but just look at her. Even now her stunning appearance affected my senses as it did on the first time I’d seen her. Beautiful black gown delicately covering her slender body. God! I knew then what love was. But today was different. She opened the drawer. I knew what she needed. I’d personally made sure last night that she finds the instrument in good shape. I looked at her as she devoured its sight. I knew this was the last time I was seeing this gleeful look on her face. Everything would be different after this. Seems so unreal how only one night could change everything. But after last night, I myself am surprised to believe in my own existence.

Feburary 13th, 2009. 1:30 am. A Friday.

It was the most memorable night I ever had. It had been so long since we’d been together. Alone. Me, and Shreya. But tonight we were together again. And what a time we had. We’d talked, danced, drank, everything. I always told her that I loved her more than she loved me. Tonight, I was to know how true I was. Safely resting in my arms that night she had told Amit how she was going to come back to him. Once she got rid of the old man with nothing to offer other than his wealth, she’d be back to him. She smiled after this. It was the same smiled which once made me fall in love with her. This time though, it could not produce the same effect. 

After a cold silence of 30 seconds, I asked, “When do you plan to get rid of your old man?”
“Whenever you want me to,” came the direct reply.

All the old man could hear was a light giggle. After which he could hear heartbeats. One light, composed, peaceful. Of pleasure and ecstasy. Another of regret, sadness, purposefulness. The same purposeful heartbeats which the other heart would have the next morning.

February 13th, 2009. 8 am. Friday.

She looked at the blade for the last time. It was the last time she was experiencing thoughts which her mind was guiding. I had nothing left to lose. It was her turn. The smile was still on her face. A smile she’d carry for the rest of her mournful life. Her final words, “Goodbye Old Man.”

She lifted the blade, pulled off the blanket and then, everything drowned in her scream. She dropped at the sight of the blood. The spotless knife lay shining beside her.

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