[NOTE: The story never ends.]
"Kill the sun, slaughter this man. Let's take him away to where he belongs...to the death box, to the coffin designed in black velvet," shouted the man in black gown on Mr. Pinku Mukherjee's face, his half veil disclosed not his identity.
"Kill the sun, slaughter this man. Let's take him away to where he belongs...to the death box, to the coffin designed in black velvet," shouted the man in black gown on Mr. Pinku Mukherjee's face, his half veil disclosed not his identity.
"May the crows feed on his blood!" he continued with same sense of vigour and hatred.
Piku was frightened like hell. And his fears numbed him when he realized that the man was Mr. Death himself: the representative of Hell's Congress. He pleaded but his voice could not reach the man's ears, as if vacuum had surrounded. Mr. Death finally pulled out a machete on which were engraved the words: "May Peace be Irony."
Pinku could not determine his actions. His hands were tied behind him with the Hell's Handcuff built from shrapnel and pieces of broken glass. And before he could speak, there went the glittery edge of the machete and...
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"Oh! My God!" screamed he, and jumped out of his bed. The alarm was ringing and Pinku could not understand for the first few moments if he was alive or was he just a soul! As his heart beats steadied down to normal, he just cursed himself for watching horror movies a night before.
He dressed himself for work, and ate his breakfast. He reached office as usual. Mr. Pinku was a different kind of guy. He followed rules strictly, and enjoyed alone. But that did not made him a freak. He could speak for hours on a subject, and the women liked him too, but he kept a distance. He did not consider random gender intimacy to be moral, for he believed those things hurt, and although he had never been a participant, he opted to stay away from these. He liked life to be simple, and that was why he was the Best Employee for three times in a row. He never competed against others; he loved his way and others loved his way of work too. In short, he was not abnormal, and led a peaceful life. Only that morning's dream was a bit too loud!
Pinku finished his tasks and returned home. He lived alone in a small compartment. His parents lived in his native village, both teachers by profession, and he was here, working in a company that worked on smart home appliances. Pinku boiled some cauliflower and fried them. He crushed two eggs and scrambled them on the pan. He had a sweet dinner. He opted not to watch another horror film as that morning gave him real jerks.
He chose to sleep. When he woke up, he found himself in a dark room, his hands tied to a chair. He was sleepy, but the blood on his wrists frightened him. Apart from cough syrups and paracetamol, Pinku had never seen a doctor, nor had he seen blood. The blood oozed out from the wounds on his wrists. He tried to suck some blood and spit when he cut his lips. Just then a candle glowed in the dark. He saw none but he screamed, "What the Hell!" His hands were tied with the same Hell's Handcuff he had seen in his dream. As he turned his eyes towards the candle, he saw someone standing...that was Mr. Death himself, the representative of the Hell's Congress. Now things were beggining to get real. These were the Dream Stealers: they steal into one's life through one's dreams, and kill them as planned. Pinku knew not what to do. Gradually the figure approached. He pulled out his machete upon which were engraved the words: "May Peace be Irony!"
However, unlike his dream, the figure was silent and then spoke.
"Those words were only for your dream," he uttered as if he could read Pinku's fearing mind, and laughed in terrible echoes.
Then he stopped teasing his prey, and swooshed the machete to maximum stretch and ...
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Pinku kicked his room-mate out of his bed. Pratap yelled in pain, and cursed him. Pinku awoke to find that that was just a bad dream, and found his friend lying almost shattered. He realized that he had had two dreams within a dream, and laughed at himself. Pratap was still cursing. Pinku felt sorry for his friend, and said, "Mr. Death, are you okay?"
The story may not end here. What if, you are still reading a dream, and there's more to this story. I had told you: the story never ends, my friend. Have a carefree sleep! Smile!
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Piku was frightened like hell. And his fears numbed him when he realized that the man was Mr. Death himself: the representative of Hell's Congress. He pleaded but his voice could not reach the man's ears, as if vacuum had surrounded. Mr. Death finally pulled out a machete on which were engraved the words: "May Peace be Irony."
Pinku could not determine his actions. His hands were tied behind him with the Hell's Handcuff built from shrapnel and pieces of broken glass. And before he could speak, there went the glittery edge of the machete and...
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Oh! My God!" screamed he, and jumped out of his bed. The alarm was ringing and Pinku could not understand for the first few moments if he was alive or was he just a soul! As his heart beats steadied down to normal, he just cursed himself for watching horror movies a night before.
He dressed himself for work, and ate his breakfast. He reached office as usual. Mr. Pinku was a different kind of guy. He followed rules strictly, and enjoyed alone. But that did not made him a freak. He could speak for hours on a subject, and the women liked him too, but he kept a distance. He did not consider random gender intimacy to be moral, for he believed those things hurt, and although he had never been a participant, he opted to stay away from these. He liked life to be simple, and that was why he was the Best Employee for three times in a row. He never competed against others; he loved his way and others loved his way of work too. In short, he was not abnormal, and led a peaceful life. Only that morning's dream was a bit too loud!
Pinku finished his tasks and returned home. He lived alone in a small compartment. His parents lived in his native village, both teachers by profession, and he was here, working in a company that worked on smart home appliances. Pinku boiled some cauliflower and fried them. He crushed two eggs and scrambled them on the pan. He had a sweet dinner. He opted not to watch another horror film as that morning gave him real jerks.
He chose to sleep. When he woke up, he found himself in a dark room, his hands tied to a chair. He was sleepy, but the blood on his wrists frightened him. Apart from cough syrups and paracetamol, Pinku had never seen a doctor, nor had he seen blood. The blood oozed out from the wounds on his wrists. He tried to suck some blood and spit when he cut his lips. Just then a candle glowed in the dark. He saw none but he screamed, "What the Hell!" His hands were tied with the same Hell's Handcuff he had seen in his dream. As he turned his eyes towards the candle, he saw someone standing...that was Mr. Death himself, the representative of the Hell's Congress. Now things were beggining to get real. These were the Dream Stealers: they steal into one's life through one's dreams, and kill them as planned. Pinku knew not what to do. Gradually the figure approached. He pulled out his machete upon which were engraved the words: "May Peace be Irony!"
However, unlike his dream, the figure was silent and then spoke.
"Those words were only for your dream," he uttered as if he could read Pinku's fearing mind, and laughed in terrible echoes.
Then he stopped teasing his prey, and swooshed the machete to maximum stretch and ...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pinku kicked his room-mate out of his bed. Pratap yelled in pain, and cursed him. Pinku awoke to find that that was just a bad dream, and found his friend lying almost shattered. He realized that he had had two dreams within a dream, and laughed at himself. Pratap was still cursing. Pinku felt sorry for his friend, and said, "Mr. Death, are you okay?"
The story may not end here. What if, you are still reading a dream, and there's more to this story. I had told you: the story never ends, my friend. Have a carefree sleep! Smile!
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