Monday, June 18, 2012

The Road Not Taken



This tale dates back to the fall of 1983. It was the twilight hours of October 14th when I found myself driving through the outskirts of Leicester district. Sun was sinking with a sense of urgency and darkness was taking over fast. The path ahead looked deserted as I drove through the tranquil clearings. I had never been to this part of the town which was fairly new & unfamiliar to me.
I was driving a bit recklessly immersed in my own thoughts, when suddenly a figure appeared before my speeding car. I slammed the break just in time and avoided a collision. The old lady hurried over by my side and shrieked, “Don’t go this way. I warn you. We do not take this road. Go away. Go away….”
I must admit that I was slightly flummoxed by her sudden, screamy warning but I wasn’t the one to pay heed to an old lunatic. The road ahead looked perfectly serene and inviting. Besides, I am strongly against prejudices and superstitious beliefs. Her warning propelled me to take the road with an added vigour. I pressed the accelerator and steered the car forward. I could still faintly hear her screams and wailings behind me.
Darkness was descending fast now and there was no sign of any lamppost nearby. I switched on the car’s headlight and began to drive slowly cutting through the darkness. It was a narrow road. In the faint light, I could discern thick growth of bushes on both sides. And then suddenly, my car gave a roar and came to a halt. I tried the engine again and again but the car moved no more. I got out of the car and surveyed my surroundings. The entire area was bathed in darkness and silhouetted by the outline of tall, creepy trees. It was certainly not the best place for breakdown of a car.
I was wondering what to do next, when I heard a faint voice. I couldn’t figure out the source of the voice but I was almost certain that I just heard someone calling my name. I paused and listened hard. And then again, I heard it. A very faint whisper, it seemed as if the rustling leaves were murmuring my name. And then I heard someone move. Even in that pitch black darkness, I could discern a pale white smoky figure walking towards me.
“Who is there,” I cried, an edge of anxiety in my voice. But the figure did not speak. It continued to move towards me. I was rooted to the spot with my brows wet with sweat. And then, as the figure came nearer, I saw its face. It was the most horrendous, most grotesque face I had ever seen. I screamed. My screams reverberated and seemed to echo in my own ears. And then darkness and silence swooped over me. My body was found the following morning. Post mortem revealed death due to heart failure. 



10 comments:

  1. Wow.. I like how you used him to tell his story..a ghost telling the story of how he died.. This is very good.. scary too! I like!

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    1. I simply love ghost stories....the scarier the better...so expect more such stories from me :P

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  2. So once the ghost became a ghost was he able to find out who that bearer of the grotesque face was? Did they become pals ? :)

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  3. It was a nice read. I am waiting to read more of those stories you are going to come up on the ghosts.

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    1. Ya, you won't have to wait long :)

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  4. i've got something really good to kill my time. Your posts are amazing! Keep it up! getting a big fan of you.

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  5. Hi Mohit. It's great to see that you visit my blog frequently and take effort to read my stories. I appreciate :)

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