“The Last Conversation”: Prologue

Foreword: This story is neither purely fiction nor is purely true. Any resemblance to real life characters or incidents is not regretted at all unless there is a negative NPV invovled 😉

The prologue

“Damn ! Theeeeerrre is nobody like youuuuu” went the song ….

“That stupid song from that stupid Mission Istanbul movie !!” Prabakar thought .He went over to the music system and turned it off.Calmness enveloped the room.The master bedroom in his 2-bedroom service apartment.He turned off the light too.There was darkness now.Any other person would feel the jitters in such an all-pervading, all-enveloping combination of darkness and silence.But he was not perturbed.His mind was strong.But it was more of an already given up mind than that which could face the world.

It was Jan 27th

He was frustrated. He was angry.He was helpless.He sat on his king size bed with the imported mattress.It was soft and sunk in under his weight as soon as he sat on it.

He was tired and wanted to sleep.But he forced himself to stay awake ..

“I am not going to get caught while sleeping. I have the courage to see IT!! ” He thought !!

He was a construction builder.He took contracts from prosperous investors to build huge mansions, office buildings and high-rises for them. Over the years, he’s made lots of money and lots of foes too.

Anyway He waited, having sat on his king size bed in the darkness.He was staring at the emptiness, into the darkness, wondering what will happen when IT finnally comes, if it actually is true that IT will come to him on Jan 27th.

A month he had, before he could see IT or rather, was scheduled to see IT.

And then he did.In the darkness he could make out a white figure, swooping, swooshing and swaying in the blackness!

“IT has come! IT has come to me now! Hahaha ” His calmness gave way to an infinitely provoked jingoistic feeling, the most brutal of animal instincts.He caught the iron rod at his side, the rod that was part of a set of 4 used to tie up the mosquito net.He tugged at it and it came off from the bed’s corner-hinge. He raised the rod and lunged into the darkness of his vast room, at the white figure!

He tore through the white apparition with the rod.He switched on the light.It was only his white shirt.

“Oh no! I forgot I hung it up over here” he told himself.

He switched off the light again and went to sit on his bed.The rod was in his hand.

He didnt even get married though he was 30 already.Somehow, he was petrified by the fact that marriage and family will give his foes openings to get back at him, to destroy him.

“No! I am not going to have any weakness!” Prabakar used to think.

So then, as he was running his fingers across the rod, the rod held straight up in his hand,aimlessly staring into the darkness of his room, there was a sound.The wind was getting stronger outside.It managed to push open the window.He didnt bother to get up and close it.The rod was now standing straight up in his hands, burnished like a sword.

So he was sitting cross-legged on his king size bed with an imported mattress, with a rod held up straight like a sword.Suddenly the window-pane’s glass started banging itself on the wall becasue of the force of the wind.He couldn’t tolerate it anymore, the sound.He wanted serenity, not such cursed noise.

Prabakar had this habit as a child to stand up on his bed before getting down from it when he was taking a course of action. Probably because of his habit as a child of fighting & wrestling imaginary opponents by jumping & shadow-boxing on his bed.So he suddenly had this mad urge to shut the window, to seal it up, to kick the wind out forever. He stood up on his bed with the rod still as it is ….

And then it happened…

He got up with such force that the iron rod’s upper tip hit the ceiling fan above.The fan whih was rotating at maximum speed,unhinged.And slashed his neck while falling down.

He lay there, his wind pipe cut across the cross-section, choking for breath, gurgling out blood.He remembered vaguely …

The fan ! The bloody old fan ! He’s forgotten to have its hinges tightened up ..shit !!!

“And so IT has come !!!” He thought .

“IT has come, IT has come ,DEATH has come …. and so all that was said and predicted was true ….! ” And so he thought his last thought ever.

(The gothic urban legend  titled “The Last Conversation” begins in the next post. Stay tuned for one hell of a psychological ride)

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7 responses to ““The Last Conversation”: Prologue

  1. r u trying to be ramu…

  2. ramu means ram gopal varma..

  3. Pingback: The lastesht Movie reviews « Et tu, Ghost-Runner

  4. man.. stop it.. wats with u!!!!!!

  5. Instead of worrying so much , bhanuami , just get some pop corn and enjoy the ride.
    Its in the end a story … just a story ? ok ? 🙂

  6. Pingback: “The Last Conversation” - Episode 3: The Grim Society « Et tu, Ghost-Runner

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