What is the happiest age for a person?

What is the happiest age for a person?

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

The Orphan needs care


The Orphan Needs Care:
It was raining heavily outside. Jared opened the front door to see whether the rain had stopped, half cursing the lightning and the rain. Jared was a man in his late thirties, he was wearing an apron above his normal dress, he was clutching a long kitchen knife which had stains of blood and fresh blood drops could be seen on his apron. He locked the door with his keys and kept the keys and knife on the table and moved upstairs. The door of the room was half closed, he slightly opened the room, allowing a beam of light to fall on the floor, and otherwise the room was dark.
A small whining could be heard, as if it was a silent cry. He put on the light in the room and a girl of nearly twelve years was tied on the bed, she was lying with her face facing upwards, her hands tied on both sides of the bed, as if she was in a cross and her legs were tied together with thick ropes. She was struggling to free herself but was unable to move much and a piece of cloth was used to cover her mouth, tied behind her head, which made her unable to speak.
Jared moved forward and removed the cloth from her mouth. She cried:”Please, leave me free, it’s paining. “
Jared:” You know I can’t do that. I can never let you free. I will bring you dinner, so stay calm. Even if you cry, nobody is gonna hear it over the rain and lightning, so don’t waste your energy. Don’t make me do something that I would have to repent again in my life.”
Jared quickly moved downstairs hearing the telephone ringing. He picked it up. There was a female voice on the other end:” Hey Jared, where are you, I thought you agreed to pick me up today.”
Jared:” Not today Ann, we can have a talk later.”
Ann:” But aren’t I supposed to meet Jenny today?”
Jared:” We can have this talk later Ann, bit busy now.” Jared hung up the telephone. He could see the adoption papers near the telephone. He read the words on the document ”….would be held responsible for physically, emotionally, mentally and financially supporting Jenny and…” He gave a smirk at the document, put his i phone headset enjoying the music and moved to the kitchen.

Ann drove her car near the front gate of Jared’s house. She stopped the engine and opened the door, the rain was heavy, and so she ran towards the front door. She banged on the front door to no avail. She took the extra keys of the house from her bag and opened the door. The rooms were dimly lit with candles as the power supply had either failed due to the adverse conditions outside or it was kept that way.
There was movement near the kitchen and Ann moved towards the kitchen, when she heard a shriek coming from upstairs, she stopped and listened to check whether it was some sound from outside which she had interpreted as coming from inside. The sound was coming again, as if someone was trying to move a heavy object, scratching against the floor. Ann quickly moved upstairs and in to the first room on the left from where the sound was coming.
Ann was shocked to see the scene in front of her, a girl was tied to the bed and she was struggling hard to escape, there were bruises on her wrists and legs where the ropes had tightened in her effort to loosen herself from them. She saw Ann coming in and cried out:”Please, help me before he comes back.”
Ann:”Are you Jenny?”
The girl nodded as if in agreement. She seemed too tired to even speak, her eyes were swollen due to crying and she was literally tired from her efforts to loosen the ropes that tied her. Ann quickly loosened the ropes; it was not an easy task as Jared had tied them really well. Ann looked in the nearby drawer and found a scissors which she used to cut open the ropes. Jenny leaned on Ann as if she needed a support after long hours being tied to a bed.
“What the hell are you doing?” Jared came rushing in to the room. He tried to get hold of Jenny, but Ann pushed him. He tried to thwart Ann and clutch Jenny, but slipped and fell to the ground. Jenny quickly took the scissors and plunged him in the neck. Jared cried out in agony, when Jenny plunged the scissors twice, and he was dead. Ann was awestruck.
Jenny:” I am sorry, he did all kinds of bad things to me, he adopted me and pledged that he would take care of me, but he didn't. Please help me.”
Ann was unable to utter words; she held Jenny close to her and moved downstairs. Jenny was almost swaying, as if she would fall asleep due to tiredness. Ann kept her bag on the table to support Jenny.
Ann:”Hey, don’t fall, do you want something to eat.”
Jenny mumbled feebly which sounded like a yes.
Ann:”Stay here, I will be back.”
Ann moved to the kitchen. She saw cooked chicken in a plate and an apron covered in blood near the counter, probably from cutting the chicken as chicken waste was kept in a nearby bag which also contained blood. She took the chicken and a loaf of bread from a nearby cupboard and went to Jenny. She was sitting on the floor with eyes closed. Ann touched her and she opened her eyes and took the bread from her hands and started eating quickly with the chicken. Ann turned to take her bag and found that the table was empty. Suddenly something cold plunged in to her back, it was sheer pain at first, blood flowing out of her body, and she was feeling numb, as she turned back. Jenny was holding a long kitchen knife with blood dripping out of it.
Ann:”Why?”
Jenny:” He adopted me to take care of me, now he takes more time for you. I cannot let that happen, so I destroyed every picture of yours in this house when he told he was going to marry you. I told I will kill you and so he tied me up. You don’t know how much an orphan has to suffer, an orphan needs care, love and I couldn't let that go away. If he can’t have time for me, then he shouldn't have time for anyone.”
Jenny was shivering while Ann was dead, in a pool of her own blood. Jenny took the bag from behind her and walked outside, in to the rain.



Tuesday, October 9, 2012

The Last Person to Stand--my short story


The last person to stand:

The dungeon was cold and was made with damp rocks, water flowing through the cracks and dripping on the floor, making sudden ripples of pools on the ground and the sound reverberating inside the dungeon. George was walking to and fro, anxious as he was, his hands were clasped behind his back and his clothes were shaggy and torn.
“Please help me, somebody please help me….”, he cried out to the dark corners of the dungeons, his voice deeply echoing in the empty tunnel, giving a grotesque effect to the whole scene. A mobile lay near him, the battery was drained off and it was switched off, he had made the last call to his cousin brother Robert telling to help him; he told he was trapped in a dungeon underneath somewhere in Italy, he was not able to say which one, the battery had drained and the mobile switched  off. He was sure his cousin would find him, but he was becoming desperate in the dungeon.
On the far end of the dungeon, there was a portrait on which was painted the dungeon, the central portion of the portrait was empty with little shade colouring as if it had to be completed later. George came and took his painting brush, he was about to do 2 strokes on the portrait, but thought of something and kept the brush down. He couldn’t draw the portrait, he needed some help. He needed Robert’s arrival and his escape from the dungeon.
A movement was heard on the other side, George silently listened to that, he was accustomed to the movements of rats inside the dungeon, but this sound was not feeble, but steady footsteps.
“Help me”, George cried out. A man in his early twenties came running towards George. He looked deeply worried by the looks of George
“Robert, you came at last, I thought I would be wasted here”, George was crying while he hugged Robert, the other man who came in to the dungeon.
Robert:”How did you get trapped here, were you preparing to do a portrait, I thought it would take me ages to discover where you are?” he looked at the portrait on the far end of the room.
George:” Yes, kind of my masterpieces it will be. The one painting you did in Venice is really praise worthy, many say they are better than the ones I have done in Florence. It was great indeed to hear that.”
Robert:”It was you who turned me in to a painter. Talents that can match with you are no longer in this world, am just a mere artist.”
George:” Humbleness is your greatest attribute. I wanted to give you a present for rescuing me from this dungeon.”
Robert:” What present?”
George took his golden coated brush from inside his robes and showed Robert. It was the most elegant and magnificent brush that George used for selected paintings he did for chapels or select personalities. No one was ever given the brush due to its uniqueness, the fine strokes they provide and the overall elegance and comfort in using the brush.
George:” Will you accept this my present?”
Robert:”Well, yes, I can definitely use this for the Assumption of Madonna, Looks from heaven painting am doing. It’s really nice of you to provide me this.”
George pointed the brush to Robert who gently moved forward to take the brush; suddenly a knife appeared in the other hand of George which he plunged in to the neck of Robert. Robert was awe-struck, blood flowing continuously from the wound, while he clutched his neck in disbelief and fell to the floor, shivering and asking:”Why?”
George began to laugh, as if he was mad:” It was I who taught you how to use colours and paints, but you tend to overshadow me. People say once you complete the Madonna, I won’t be needed by anyone as all will be following you. I can’t allow this. Twenty years it has been, I got the glory as the one who came to replace Da Vinci and Botticelli, the one who can make Michelangelo a run for his money, but you came and you think you can replace me, the one who created Venus: the beauty of a flower and Hades and Poseidon? This will be my masterpiece portrait: The last person to stand: Murder in the dungeon, I will draw this picture of your murder with this brush and will regain the lost glory I had. I will be the last to stand in the glory of Italian painters and your name will be forgotten.”
Robert closed his eyes and his breathing stopped, while George dipped the brush slightly in the blood and mixed it with his paint and moved forwards to complete his masterpiece portrait.