Tag: Curse

Posted in Fiction, Published, Twisted fairytales

Doors: Part 2 of 2

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Author’s note: This is second and final installment of a Twisted Fairytale from my fifth short story compilation, Ugly: Twisted fairytales.

Tonight, on Halloween, we came to this village to collect the last tooth for the next five years. The next kid in line is just one year old, so it will be some time before he loses his teeth. All day long, Nui had been alternating between being lost, excited and jumpy. Every time I asked, she behaved too innocently. So, of course, I told her, “I won’t let you enter those magical doors. We have no idea where they lead and whether they let you return.”

Her reply was, “What doors?” Obviously, I never let her out of my sight all day.

When we finally reached this kid’s house, there was a storm outside. We entered the house through a crack in the window. I started the process of retrieving the tooth, while Nui stood guard at the windowsill. A newly acquired cat jumped on me. For a quarter of an hour, I hide inside a closet worried out of my head about this girl until I realised the truth. There was no way the cat could outwit her. She left before the cat came in…

…which means she entered one of the doors.

So, after I managed to dodge the cat, I now stand in front of all these doors, trying to guess which one she took and come up blank. Her spell‑phone is not reachable. I have called out her name several times but, I’m afraid, she can’t hear me. I have called her boyfriend to check if she had discussed the door that she’d prefer…But he’s as dumb as ever, “You let that vile cat eat her!” As if a cat could ever catch her. She would tie its hands and legs and roast it on a spit before it could blink. She’s my guard for that very reason—she’s a Fighter!

When I tell him about the magical doors, he comes up blank. Did she never talk to him about them? All he has to say is, “You are trying to frame her for breaking the magical rules!”

Seriously! I understand he disbelieves me, but does he even know her? She never follows rules. “I’m going after her. Do you want to join me? Together we can cover more doors.”

Suddenly, his voice changes, guarded, “We aren’t sure where those doors lead. It is too dangerous for us…”.

After a few seconds’ hesitation, he sounds braver, “Anyway, we aren’t sure that she took the doors at all. Even if she did, we don’t know which one. You just said, there are too many doors, right? What if she isn’t in the door either of us take? We’ll never find her that way. I guess, we should report her to the authorities. They will send a search party. Meanwhile, we should just wait here for her to return.”

“Come on! Authorities will wait for twenty‑four hours. That could be too late.”

“It’s probably already too late. She could already be de…” He could not complete his sentence though—because I hexed his spell‑phone to shove up his ass. He will stay busy with it until another Spellman creates a counter‑spell.

But now, he can’t help me. So, I have to take a wild guess at the door she took. In my mind, I picture her fighting fantastic creatures and living her dreams. I’m scared. I am no Fighter, just a Spellman who knows a few magic tricks. But I want to be by her side when she wins the world. Most of all, I just want to be with her. I can’t stand the thought of never seeing her smile again.

I have only one chance to guess the right door. There is no guarantee that once I am in, it will ever let me out. If I choose the wrong one, I might be stuck without her forever. The thought scares me even more. So, I try my hardest to guess.

I decide to guess the doors she’ll never take—she hates the red‑, purple‑ and yellow‑coloured doors. She finds them too girly. She’ll never take the green one—it’s too small. If she wants to break the rules, she’ll do something grand. This leaves the two huge blue doors. I approach the bigger one with burns and scratches the size of a dragon’s nails. My hands shake at the thought of facing whatever is on the other side…

She could be fighting it alone!

With that scary thought, I gather all my courage, wave my wand and pull the door with all my magic. The door wouldn’t budge. I can’t even create a crack to peep in and see if I can spot Nui anywhere. The thought of losing her forever is driving me crazy. I move in front of the next door to see if I can find her there.

But before I can do anything, a small crevice opens in the first door and Nui falls out. My heart jumps into my throat as I fly to her, worried that I am too late. But she pulls me in a bear hug instead! “What took you so long?”

“Well, you didn’t exactly leave a forwarding address. Did you?” I’m too relieved to care that I’m shouting at her.

Ideally, this is when she kicks me, but she just smiles and says, “I knew you’d know where to find me.”

I don’t want to be placated. But how could I not be? She’s fine and back, speaking of which, “Why did you come back out? You could have just pulled me in. Now I have to try opening the damned door again.”

“Naah! They left without us. Anyway, I’m not sure I’m welcome anymore—I hit the doorman,” she shrugs. My brows rise up to my hairline, so she adds, “Well! I entered the door and was waiting for you in the lobby on the other side and heard you call my name. I shouted back but I guess you couldn’t hear me from the inside. Then I heard you call my guy. I was afraid he would want to come too, so I stayed quiet. I was cheering when you hexed him, when the doorman announced that we were leaving and the next flight would not be until Halloween next year.

So, I tried reopening the door to call you in, but he stopped me, quoting some guideline that the door mustn’t be opened from the inside. I could hear you trying to open the door with magic. You could have just pulled the handle, you know! I was worried that we’d leave you behind and the doorman still won’t let me open the door.

I decided it wasn’t worth it without you. So, I punched him and let myself out.” Blushing furiously, she entwined our fingers as we flew away to our next assignment.

Author’s note: To be continued…

If you would rather read it all together in the book, Ugly: Twisted fairytales is available for free download here: Link

Photo by Ranurte on Unsplash

Posted in Fiction, Published, Twisted fairytales

Doors: Part 1 of 2

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Author’s note: This is first installment of a Twisted Fairytale from my fifth short story compilation, Ugly: Twisted fairytales.

Not sure which one she took—there are too many doors on this wall. Ever since the day we found this little nook in this village a couple of years back, Nui had been burning with curiosity. We come here often to collect the occasional teeth from under the pillow and look at these doors, but not as often as Nui would like to. With people having fewer children, there are fewer teeth to collect.

Okay, just in case you are confused, we are tooth faeries. She is a four‑and‑a‑quarter‑inch Fighter and I am a five‑inch Spellman. We are a team and we collect teeth together. Why?

Because, to pry out broken teeth from under the pillow, I have to cast the spells to prop up the child, move the pillow, place the coin and grab the tooth and then place the pillow and child back in place. (Not sure why they don’t just keep the tooth on the side‑table. It would be so convenient for us.) So, while I am using all my concentration for the spells, Nui stands guard to look out for any pet animals and keep them at bay.

Cats are especially nasty—stealthy, vicious and quick. Once, when my partner was out sick (a serious case of bird flu—her wings kept twitching like hummingbird’s and her voice sounded like a crow’s), a cat sneaked up on me. I found myself inside the cat’s stomach and it’s not a pretty sight. I had to tickle its intestine so that it would spit me out. Later, I had to shower for almost an hour to take off the muck from my hair. So, you get the drift…

So, all tooth fairies work in pairs to avoid such situations.

Between her and me, we have fifty‑seven villages to cover. You would think that we would be dying of overwork. But children are getting so rare now that there aren’t enough teeth to go around. In fact, most of the tooth fairies are forced to take up smithery or animal‑guard roles for smaller beings, like rats (desperate times!). Most of the teeth forges are now going out of commission too.

For any novices out there, teeth forges are where new human teeth are forged on order. Every end of the day, we submit the acquired teeth at the teeth forge. The teeth smith takes the measurements and DNA print and then forges new teeth to replace the old ones. The old teeth are recycled, of course. A delivery elf, then, submits the new teeth to the Great Guy on the seventh cloud to be dispersed as needed. All that is beyond our job role, of course.

Anyway, Nui and I are best friends, even though it is rather difficult. She has an adventurous spirit and a knack for getting into dangerous situations—like the day she decided to adopt a lost pup. He’s a Great Dane who loves catching anything that flies too close. It took us a couple of weeks and several trips to its stomach before it learnt not to catch faeries.

Her boyfriend—another Fighter fairy—doesn’t approve of the Dane. On second thought, he doesn’t approve of me either. He thinks I’m hitting on her. Initially, I told him, “Mate, I gave up on the day we became partners 93 years back.”

I had made a move on her on the first day at work and she gave me a black eye. Ever since then, I’ve stuck to being friends. But I keep that piece of information to myself. No need to humiliate myself when he doesn’t believe me anyway.

Well, his loss! Every now and then, he tells her to dump me, and she gives him the black eye instead.

Nui is the reason for being a tooth fairy worth it—it gives us an excuse to stick together all day. I think the Great Guy on the seventh cloud knows about it too and, hence, he hasn’t changed our pairing in all these 93 years—a rarity in our field.

That’s why, I let her drag me to look at these doors every time we’re in the village. They are inside an old building that belonged to a bunch of humans named ‘Karpenters’ once upon a time. They used to build things out of wood here. But a couple of decades ago, when a fire crashed a couple of walls and the roof, they deserted the place. Now, they say the place is haunted and no one visits it anymore, which suits us just fine. Every time we have an assignment in this village, we sit here for hours and look at these magical wooden doors.

How are we so sure they are magical?

Well, why would anyone place so many doors on the same wall, unless they all lead to different places? Deductive reasoning, you see.

Also, they are all different colours and sizes—some of them too small for grown up humans—and all of them are well‑worn. Some of them have claw marks all over them (Werewolves?) while one looks severely burnt (Dragons?). Nui loves to contemplate about where each door would lead us. Many times, she has asked me to come with her so that we could enter them together. I’m curious too but not crazy enough to try. With magic, you could never be sure where they would take us.

Author’s note: To be continued…

If you would rather read it all together in the book, Ugly: Twisted fairytales is available for free download here: Link

Photo by Ranurte on Unsplash

Posted in Fiction, Published, Twisted fairytales

Captivated

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Author’s note: This is a Twisted Fairytale from my fifth short story compilation, Ugly: Twisted fairytales. It is a twisted version of the original Grimm’s fairytale, Rapunzel.

For somebody who had spent her entire life on the top of a tower, this entire fiasco is nothing short of earth‑shattering. I only had a few dreams…a little grass beneath my feet and the freedom to walk away. Mother had never allowed me to set a foot outside this sad place. There was no one but occasional birds for company. She said she was afraid I would leave her. She was probably right.

I would often sit at the single open window, singing to myself. One day, when this man came calling and said, “Lady! You have an angel’s voice,” I wondered who this ‘Angel’ is. So, I asked him to come in…the usual way, of course—grab the hair; I pull up! He seemed impressed. He said he never saw a woman with such long hair and unbelievable upper‑arm strength.

Then, of course, I was curious what a ‘Woman’ is? At first, he was amused by my questions. And then, he told me about women and men…and babies that look like angels. And then, of course he told me what a ‘Baby’ is. Being stuck inside the tower forever, my knowledge of outside world is quite inadequate.

He was patient with me. He showed me how babies were made—seems like lots of jostling and biting is involved, but the nice kind that makes you look forward to making babies all the time.

He kept getting tangled up with my hair, which was kind of funny to see. He asked whether I would mind if he cut them short. I told him Mother might not appreciate having to wait outside until I grow them back. He was curious about her—what she did, where she went during the day and why she lived in a tower without stairs. He went snooping around the floor. I’m sure, he would have loved to check the lower floors too but there was no door.

He was rather suspicious of our broom that stood solemnly in a corner. He asked me what it was for. Seriously! Didn’t he know what brooms did? They flew, of course. How else did Mother manage to bring me up here in the first place before my hair grew long? And of course, they cleaned the floor if you asked nicely and swatted the occasional rats and spiders that infested the place. This one, however, was a piece of scrap now—too old and out of juice.

The way he looked at the cauldron, I wondered if he is expecting something to jump out at him. I told him it wasn’t happening. Mother quit all such endeavours ever since the last undead experiment—nothing freaks you out more than a half‑built, recently‑dead man running out of the cauldron, deluded that you are his still‑alive wife. The moaning, groping of hands, chasing around to declare undying love, the smell of hot flesh still fresh from the fire…He didn’t quit howling and asking for forgiveness until he timed out at dawn. Mother decided against ‘building’ anyone out of the cauldron after that.

Somehow, that lead him to believe that I was a ‘captive’ of a ‘witch’. I told him she was my Mother but, still, he insisted on leaving before she arrived. He also made me promise not to rat him out. In turn, I made him promise to return the next day and teach me more about other good stuff. So, he came.

For many days, we tried but I didn’t see any baby arrive. Realizing that he was getting the process wrong somehow, I suggested that we try throwing some herbs in the cauldron like Mother did the other day to create a baby. But he insisted to continue trying his way.

So, we kept up to it until the day Mother came home quite earlier than usual.

She soared in right through the open window on a cool broom with a pretty pink handle, a fitted double‑seater pink seat and pink dyed twigs at the other end. She was super‑excited when she called me to get on the backseat, so I could fly with her outside everyday.

Then, she saw him…and me…together…

Something snapped inside her. She started hollering about not trusting kids ever again; nowhere being safe enough to raise a pretty daughter; and of men who deceived innocent girls into giving up their chastity (whatever that means). And then, she started shouting swear words. Most didn’t any make sense, but when she called the prince a ‘son of a bitch’, he turned into one (at least that is what Mother says).

When Mother cooled down enough, I asked if I should turn him back into a human. But, apparently, swear‑magic cannot be undone. So, I just kept him as a pet. He is cuddly and sweet. Sometimes he sulks around the tower looking for exits but he is mostly quiet and only barks to intimidate the occasional princes that happen to visit.

Honestly, he is a much better company this way.

END

Author’s note: If you would rather read it all together in the book, Ugly: Twisted fairytales is available for free download here: Link

Photo by Karsten Würth on Unsplash

Posted in Fiction, Published, Twisted fairytales

Ugly: Part 2 of 2

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Author’s note: This is second installment of a Twisted Fairytale from my fifth short story compilation, Ugly: Twisted fairytales. It is a twisted version of the original Grimm’s fairytale, The Frog Prince. You can find the first installment here: Ugly: Part 1

“Oh! Thank you! I promise it will only be for a few days; until my ‘other arrangement’ returns.”

“That’s alright! You can stay there as long as I do.” With a wide smile, she opens her apron pocket, and I hop in to spend the rest of the day accompanying her while she works. She carries me around to show me her life as a maid in the royal household. It is something I had never experienced before—loads of hard work and open laughter.

I kind‑of like it.

She listens to me whine about my life as a toad and other mundane things. For breakfast and lunch, she takes me to the pond and doesn’t get disgusted when I eat flies—after all, I am a toad now. It tastes good, probably because of the company. I tell her about the lily pond from my ‘place’ and she gapes open‑mouthed. I tell her about the books I have read, and she listens with a sigh, for she never learnt her letters. Then, we talk about her home and beloved late parents. I itch to tell her about mine, not to brag but to share. But I hold back. It is nice to be liked for who I am…apart from a prince.

*****

Her quarter is small, but I feel welcomed.

I sleep on her pillow. She says she doesn’t use it. I know she’s lying because it smells like her—hard work—a foreign concept I am just beginning to understand. She’s a princess in her own stead, generous in sharing her blessings with a toad.

Maybe, I should have just stayed in her room right from the beginning. Then, the whole thing would have been fun rather than a torture. And she, surely, wouldn’t have tossed me out.

*****

A week has passed since I moved in with Maggie. The castle is preparing for a royal entourage from the neighbouring kingdom—my parents, of course. They haven’t announced my situation because, I guess, they assumed I would have announced myself a week ago after becoming fully functional human as per the plan. They will be crushed to find out that I didn’t make it. The local royal family is all aflutter as they plan to get one of the six princesses married to their neighbours’ crown prince. Fat chances!

But at least, I will be able to go back home. The thought should make me happy, but something feels off—going back home…without Maggie…

I turn to look at the only person who genuinely likes me for who I am.

Moonlight is falling on her hands that bear the calluses and burns from the royal kitchen. I will never be able to look down upon a maid again.

A few hours back, by the fireside, I had told her about my parentage and the curse. I had asked her to come with me. She had turned down the offer saying she wouldn’t be a tag‑along. “Once you become a human again, you will be ashamed to be associated with a maid.” With those words, she had closed the argument.

The words had wrapped themselves tightly around my throat making it difficult to breath. Can I ever be ashamed of her? The old prince who had laughed on the witch with a wart would surely be. Once I am a human, if I am ever a human again, will I become the same person? Will I be ashamed of my sole source of comfort?

I look at her with renewed sight. She isn’t pretty in the strict sense of the word…round face with freckles, pimples, large eyes, a wide smile and an ample girth. But she is the most beautiful woman in my world—the warm sunshine to my cloudy moods. The thought of leaving without her feels so wrong…as if I would never smile again.

Will she miss me too?

As if on the cue, she turns to my side, wide awake, looking at my face with tear‑filled eyes. I kiss her warm cheeks, and she smiles a sad smile. I hug her face with my tiny arms and drift away to sleep.

Morning has returned with her in my arms. She is now small and green—a rather pretty toad herself, looking a little baffled but not displeased. She probably understands what this change means.

I’m hoping, she’ll agree to marry me.

END

If you would rather read it all together in the book, Ugly: Twisted fairytales, is available for free download here: Link

Posted in Fiction, Published, Twisted fairytales

Ugly: Part 1 of 2

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Author’s note: This is first installment of a Twisted Fairytale from my fifth short story compilation, Ugly: Twisted fairytales. It is a twisted version of the original Grimm’s fairytale, The Frog Prince.

“Why the long face, handsome?”

My world is spinning in front of my eyes and Maggie is teasing me. I want to snarl in response, but she wears a genuine smile, as if she’s trying to cheer me up. Well, she doesn’t need to humour me. I’m a nobody…

Lower than a nobody—I’m a toad…

And it seems like I’m going to be one forever!

Why did I insult that witch? Loads of people have warts on their noses, but out of all those ugly faces, I had to pick a witch to call a toad! And now I’m one!

I should probably have begged her for mercy or something. But I was naive enough to believe that, as the crown prince, my command was enough to force her hand. So, I had just ordered her to take away the curse, expecting her to relent. And she did!

Her ‘cure’ was too simple—True Love’s first kiss. Since that was impossible, considering nobody loves toads, (except toads, of course) she gave another cure. I had to eat dinner with a princess from her plate and sleep in her bed for three nights without telling her (or anybody she knew) about my reality or the curse. Then, I would become myself again. Simple!

How stupid of me to believe her! She was simply trying to shake me off. Which princess would ever let a toad within a mile’s radius? I should have understood when the witch went missing the very next day. Then, I wouldn’t have embarked on this fool’s errand alone. I had begged my parents to let me travel alone in my carriage to this far‑away palace with only a carriage driver for company. The idea was that there were six pretty princesses around my age here and I believed that it would increase my chances several times.

*****

For three long months, I hid inside the castle garden pond, waiting for a chance to speak to one of them. All the while, I risked being eaten by this vile cat they own. And then, they had these goldfishes in the pond who would ask me who I was and then promptly forget—every three seconds!

I was beginning to wonder when this torture would end when, on a fateful day, a stork decided that I was a good change of taste. So, he gulped me in. As expected, he gagged on the taste and spat me out. Then, he had the audacity to curse me for ‘luring’ him into believing that I was a delicious frog! I should have felt insulted, I guess, but I was just too glad to be alive.

I made a deal with him. I offered him a month‑long free supply of frogs if he would draw one of those princesses close to the pond. So, finally, three days back, one of the pricesses was playing with a gold ball in the garden when he caught it in the air and dropped it in the pond. It worked. She started crying. I offered to bring it back if she would let me eat from her plate and sleep in her bed for three nights. She was distraught enough to promise me ‘anything in return’. So, I fished it out and became entitled to the royal treatment once again, briefly. I instantly sent away my carriage to give my parents the ‘good news’.

For three nights, I ate from the princess’s plate and slept in her bed as her eyes threw daggers at me—now that she had the gold ball, she wasn’t feeling so grateful anymore! I don’t think she would have gone through her promise if her father hadn’t insisted she kept her word.

The princess left the room at the crack of dawn and never returned until it was time for dinner when she was obliged to eat with me. So long, I used to like her from afar and hoped that on the dawn of the fourth day, once I become myself again, she would agree to marry me. But I’m not sure I like her anymore. It could be because she treats me like I’m something stuck to the bottom of her elegant shoes.

And today is the morning of the fourth day. Not even a single wart has disappeared from my body. And the princess has ordered me to get out of her castle, or she’d have toad’s legs for breakfast. Unfortunately, my carriage would take at least seven more days to return and, if I leave now, the carriage driver would never be able find me. So, here I sit, wondering what to do.

And Maggie here is trying to chat with me as if I’m her friend. She is a maid—the only woman in the castle who does not shriek at my sight, and hence, she has been managing the work in the princess’s room ever since I have shifted here. So, I guess, some respect is due. “I’m leaving. Thank you for the hospitality.”

She smiles understandingly, “The princess is not fond of toads, I guess. Look, if you still need a place to live in, my quarter is close by. It’s not as comfortable as the main castle, but it has enough room for you. And I can fix you a comfortable bed.”

Author’s note: To be continued…

If you would rather read it all together in the book, Ugly: Twisted fairytales is available for free download here: Link

Posted in Fiction, Published

Broken: Part 3

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Author’s note: This is third installment of a short story from my latest book: The Bracelet and the other short stories. You can find the other parts here: Broken: Part 1 and Broken: Part 2.

On the morning of the fourth day, I gathered wildflowers that grew within the temple yard. A tiger was manning the boundary. It gave me hope that my ‘friends’ wouldn’t be able to come tomorrow, and I wouldn’t have to go back. I could stay here forever, seeing her every day. I held the flowers lovingly in my arms until she came, afraid to put them down lest they’d get dirty.

When she came, I all but jumped up. She placed the basket in the same place and looked at me. I meekly held out the flowers. She accepted them quietly with a smile that almost made me swoon. She turned to leave. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I might have to leave soon. How could I go without knowing her name? Or rather, how could I go at all?

“Please don’t go,” I begged her.

“Do you need anything else from me?” her voice was teasing.

“I…I don’t even know your name,” I blushed to the roots of my hair like a schoolboy.

“I thought you’ll never ask. People call me Kyarr,” she replied.

“Oh! I thought Kyarr was the deity here.”

She kept smiling.

“I…My ‘friends’ are due to return tomorrow. I was wondering…thinking that…I…Would you…” I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. What if she says no? What if she considers it an insult? I know nothing about her. She could be married. She looks young but people marry early in this part of the world.

Heck, even I’m married! What was I even thinking?

She waited for a few seconds. Then, probably realised I wasn’t going to finish. So, she simply said, “I know your friends come tomorrow morning. I guess, it is the last time we meet.” She was still smiling.

“Would you like to come with me?” I blurted out, then lost all the courage and looked at my feet.

“I can’t. I’m needed here. But thank you for asking.”

It hurt to see that there was no pain in her eyes. She was smiling as always while my own heart was ripping up in pieces. “Will you at least stay the night? I just want to look at you until I leave,” I knew I was transgressing some social boundary, but I couldn’t remember what…

“I can but you might not like how I look. That’s why I haven’t been staying here for the past three nights.”

I could hear the warning in her voice, but I was past caring now. If it was the last time I was looking at her, I didn’t care if a few hair came out of her bun as she slept. Now that I think of it, I can’t remember how she wore her hair—Was it a bun? Pig tails? Or did she leave them loose over her shoulders? She’d still be the only one I love.

“I insist.”

She shook her head, giving up, and sat on the stone throne on the pedestal. Then she gave me that smile that melted my knees…

…and turned to stone—a magnificent stone Tigress.

*****

My helpers returned the next day and told me the goat was still very much alive. I told them about Kyarr, but they didn’t believe me. They said Kyarr, the stone Tigress, has always been there on the pedestal. She was the temple deity.

They said the curse was turning me mad like all those before me.

*****

I would like to believe them and forget all about her, but how can I?

Even though I have returned home, my dreams are full of tiger calls, and my every waking moment is spent thinking about her. Somehow, her being a tigress makes no difference to me. She’s still the one I love.

Often, I see her walk away from me. I call her. I beg her to stop, but she just gives me a smile that would make me follow her anywhere. And then, she keeps walking until I can walk no more. Once I fall, I crawl behind her until I faint. And when I wake up, I find her gone.

My bleeding feet and knees don’t hurt. My heart bleeds knowing I’ll never see her again. I tried booking a flight to return to my Kyarr, but my wife—I can’t recall her name now—she won’t let me go. I think she’s jealous. Could you please make her understand, Doctor? You do believe me, don’t you?

The doctor looks up at me with eyes filled with pity. He stops the recorder and makes some notes in his pad. He signals a male nurse to escort me to my padded cell—my cage from where I can’t escape and walk until my feet hurt and crawl until my knees bleed…

End

Author’s note: You can find the free PDF version of my latest book: The Bracelet and the other short stories here: Link.

Photo by Mike Marrah on Unsplash

Posted in Fiction, Published

Broken: Part 2

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Author’s note: This is second installment of a short story from my latest book: The Bracelet and the other short stories. You can find the other parts here: Broken: Part 1 and Broken: Part 3.

I settled on the platform on the tree, hid behind the leaves with the gun in position and waited. It wasn’t long when the goat started bleating. A tiger walked in. I guess, it wasn’t hungry because it wasn’t stealthy. It just sniffed the goat, the goat bleated, and the tiger looked straight at the place I sat.

Somehow, it knew I was there.

I had a clear shot, but the intensity of its stare made my hands shake. I fired but missed.

That’s when all hell broke loose.

All of a sudden, sixteen tigers rushed out of the bushes around me, roaring and tearing at my tree. The tree was rather sturdy and impossible for an animal to climb but, in my bones, I knew it can’t last against so many tigers. I fired several rounds of bullets but, weirdly enough, they hit none of the sixteen.

Soon, I was out of ammunition.

After a few minutes—it felt like an eternity—of scratching away the tree bark, the tigers began to return to the shadows of the forest. But one of them remained stationed beneath the tree. I had a suspicion that he’s waiting for me to get drowsy and fall down. After a couple of hours, as the rush of adrenalin subsided, I started getting sleepy. Meanwhile, crazy as it sounds, another tiger had come in and relieved the first one from its ‘duty’, which means they were working as a team.

It was weird and scary in extreme. Three days from now, one of them would still be here, meaning that my help would never arrive.

I wondered whether the ‘help’ had reached home safely. I wondered when he will return. I had travelled across the world to be here, but now I couldn’t wait to return to my family. I clung to a branch fiercely and prayed to see my wife and daughter one more time.

*****

Dusk arrived and the last rays of light fell on a piece of metal shining on the top of the trees—the pinnacle of the ancient temple of Kyarr. The wise words returned to me: “If the situation gets out of hand…” Well, the situation was certainly out of hand. I couldn’t stay the night here. Maybe, the temple could offer a better shelter. I could hide in the inner sanctum and close the doors. Other people had survived there, hadn’t they?

There was no point waiting to die here. I would rather do something.

I couldn’t carry my baggage. It would slow me down. My guns were all useless without the bullets. So, I used them to create a diversion. I dropped my bag down first, threw my heavier gun as far as it would go in my opposite direction, and then my lighter gun ahead of it. In the end, I threw my skinning knife as far as it would go in the trees. The tiger took the bait and ran towards it.

I jumped down and dashed towards the temple. I didn’t hear any tigers behind me, but I didn’t stop to check too.

I reached the temple in one mad dash. It had no boundary so entering was rather easy. I ran inside the prayer hall and turned to close the doors. There were none.

“Don’t worry. They won’t hurt you here. You aren’t carrying weapons,” a pleasant female voice made me turn around. She was sitting on the stone throne on the pedestal.

“But I had shot several rounds at them a few hours back.”

“But you can’t anymore.” It wasn’t a question. She smiled dazzling me. “Please make yourself comfortable until your friends return for you. If you are hungry, you can have these fruits,” she pointed towards a basket at her feet. With those words, she left the room.

*****

I hid there for four nights until help arrived.

The first night, I could neither eat, nor sleep. Occasionally, I heard the tigers roar just outside the periphery of the temple. Not sure what kept them out though—the temple had no doors to close.

It wasn’t the fear that kept me up though. It was the woman—I kept thinking about her smile, her face, her grace, her voice…

*****

The next day stretched before me with nothing to do. My smartphone had stopped working the moment I had entered the deeper forest, as expected. Now the battery was dead as well. I tried missing my wife and daughter, but I couldn’t. All I thought about was ‘her’. I craved for her with the intensity of a man dying of thirst in the desert. But no matter how I tried, I could not recall the colour of her clothes. I had been so taken in by her face.

At dusk, she returned with a fruit basket. I think, she was wearing something orange. I can’t be too sure. All I could remember was her face and dazzling smile. She asked me if I was well. I wanted to say that I was dying to see her again. But all I could manage was a nod. She left the basket in the same place and left with the dazzling smile.

I wanted to stop her and ask her name. I wanted to ask her how she knew my language and about my friends; where she lived and why she returned only at dusk and only to deliver the basket; why she never said a prayer in the temple; and where was the deity anyway.

But the words stayed lodged firmly in my throat. All I could manage was to look like a thunderstruck tree.

The next two nights were spent pretty much the same way. I tried sleeping but kept dreaming of her. But as soon as I would lift my hand to touch her face, tiger roars would wake me up. I could hardly remember my wife’s name. Heck, I couldn’t remember my own name if I didn’t have my ID in my pocket. Both days, mornings were spent waiting for the dusk to arrive so that I could see her again; and evenings thinking of what I could have and should have said to her.

The roars didn’t bother me anymore. I might not even have noticed if the tigers had eaten me.

Author’s note: To be continued…

Photo by Mike Marrah on Unsplash

Posted in Fiction, Published

Broken: Part 1

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Author’s note: This is first installment of a short story from my latest book: The Bracelet and the other short stories. You can find the other parts here: Broken: Part 2 and Broken: Part 3.

I had never hunted in this area before, but I was dying to get a tiger’s head for my collection for years now and an eco‑tourism website had mentioned this place. It had boasted of a uniquely high tiger‑per‑kilometre ratio as compared to the rest of the world. Tigers are revered here, so, local poachers don’t touch them. There’s no law against hunting the endangered species in this country though. Just my luck! So, I got a quick tourist Visa, gathered my hunting gear and flew here.

*****

In a country where tigers are revered, I couldn’t directly ask people where I could find a tiger to kill. So, I went around the long route. After the first day of sight‑seeing with a local tourist guide, I tipped him heavily. Then, I said, “I just wish it was a little more exciting than that!” I talked about my hunting trips. He immediately promised to find someone to help me, which he did within the hour.

The ‘help’ was a small shrewd man who offered his services based on a hefty fee per day. We started small—hunting foxes, then, gazelle and wild boars. I tipped him generously each day, increasing the amount with the size of the game, nudging him to find something even more exciting. He gradually warmed up to me and suggested bigger cats—serval, cheetah, leopard…

I told him, “I’ve done them all in. The only big cats I’d be interested in now would be a lion or a tiger.” I knew well that there were no lions here. So, he would show me tigers.

He hesitated. A long pregnant pause had me wondering if I had gone a little too fast and whether I should have waited a few more days. But hunting tigers could take several attempts ranging between several days to weeks. I could not afford to tick off more days from my one‑month visa.

After what felt like an eternity, he admitted reluctantly, “There’s a place in the forest where tigers throng. That is the only place where you are sure to find them. Mind you, we never hunt them. There is a curse in that place. Anybody who goes hunting tigers in that place ends up as either dead or raving mad.”

Old wives’ tales, of course! “I’m not afraid.”

He looked at me with the resignation of a parent who knew his child was beyond hope. “Okay! But this time, I won’t stay with you for the hunt. I have a family to provide for, so, I can’t afford to be cursed.”

It took immense effort to stop me from rolling my eyes. “Sure, but you can show me where it is, right?”

He nodded quietly, “Yes, but it will cost a lot more—I’m risking a curse and a possible death. I’ll take the money in advance today, so that I can hand it over to my family in case I die.”

I knew he was exaggerating to hike up the amount. He wasn’t even going to be on the hunt. But I hadn’t travelled across the world to save pennies. If the website was to be believed, the number of tigers in the area guaranteed a trophy.

*****

The next morning, he came back with supplies for four-five days, a goat, two labourers and tools to create a hunting platform. The labourers looked apprehensively at my gun, muttering in native language. The ‘help’ translated, “They want you to promise that you wouldn’t fire it until we’ve safely returned from the place. Firing the gun draws the tigers in.”

I could not help rolling my eyes this time. “Come on, the sound of gunfire scares animals away…”

“In other places, gunfire might do that, but it is different here. The tigers kill anyone firing a gun in the area. You’ll see soon enough.”

*****

We travelled as far as we could in an old jeep. Then, we walked on a well‑beaten trail. Apparently, a lot of people walked through that part of the forest without any weapons. So much for risking life!

We left the trail and entered deeper into the forest. After an hour, we stopped near a tall and sturdy tree with high and strong branches that gave me enough cover without obscuring my view. The ‘help’ ensured it was impossible for a tiger to climb it. I knew the last precaution was unnecessary, but he insisted, “You will thank us later.”

While the labourers built the hunting platform and the ‘help’ arranged goat’s fodder, I smoked a cigarette relishing in the tiger calls. The website was right. Too many tigers live in this area. Not sure how though. Tigers are rather territorial. Usually, there is no more than one tiger in several kilometres. But in this place, it sounds as if there is a huge ‘pride’ living in close vicinity—only, tigers don’t live in prides. The biggest group could be a mother with one or two cubs. Then, how could it be that…

By noon, the platform was mounted, and the ‘help’ asked, “Are you sure you want to do it, Sir?”

Mentally, I laughed at the superstition. Overtly, I just nodded.

“Alright,” he pointed towards north. “There is the temple of Kyarr over there. The only survivors from a hunting trip in this area were found hiding there. They were completely mad, mind you, but alive. So, if the situation gets out of hand, try to make a dash for it. I’ll return in the four days and collect whatever is left of you.”

With those parting words, they left.

Author’s note: To be continued…

Photo by Mike Marrah on Unsplash