Skip to main content

The basement

The basement.

The wastage had to disposed of at near the last room of the corner.
The basement was dark and a streak of light passing through the Brocken door falling on the corridor.
So I quickly walked along and threw the bag of syringes and blood stained bandages to the bin which would be later taken away by the cleaning guys.
As I was walking past the rooms, the lights of one of the rooms switched on.
It got my attention, so I scanned through the room from around the door.
I hadn’t been here since a long time and I realized this used to be the old pharmaceutical drug storage place.
I tough I should switch off the light and proceeded inside the room.
As I looked for the switch, I could see the room was unkempt. A couple of drawers were slid out carrying some old medicines. Some bandages stuck to the floor.
I could smell formalin in the air.
As I was on the opposite side of the room, the light started to flicker.
I felt some presence in the room, there was someone in the room.
The door closed on my face as I was rushed. The door locked itself, the lights flickering violently now.
I started banging the door, trying to open it.
Suddenly a whisper spread across the room “shhhhhhhhhhhhh…….”
A cold chill ran down my spine.
I slowly turned.
Just below the light, I could see someone crouched on her knees sitting on top of the table.
It had long hair covering the forehead.
I couldn’t feel my legs and desperately fidgeted with the lock of the door. Suddenly I felt the notch and unlocked the door.
I ran out of the room to the door to the elevator. And the elevator finally came.
I opened the gate and rushed in.
Once inside, even though I could feel my chest pumping, I was protected by the elevator.
 I just stood inside, waiting for it to open and rush to my ward filled with people.
After a few seconds I realized that the lift wasn’t moving.
That is when the door opened.
I forgot to press the floor.
I was still in the basement. It was standing right before me with a long syringe in its hand, blood dripping from it. I could see its face clearly for the first time.
It had a long fresh scar right across its face, yellow crocked teeth as it smiled at me.
I kept pressing the G floor frantically.
But before the door closed, it leaped inside the lift.

I was never going back up again.

Popular posts from this blog

Under attack

Under Attack

“We have a situation at the government district hospital. There seems to be an unidentified individual who has taken over wards on the right wing of the building. The doctors say he headed towards the paediatrics ward, and that he had a handgun with him, You need to report there immediately. We will send backup as soon as possible. We have to sort it out before the situation escalates to national news.” The chief commissioner gave the order. This was my first year as an inspector of this small town and this was a very delicate case to handle, in fact it required planning and a trained squad. I wasn’t ready for this but there was no other way. All the other officers were posted for security for the Minter of Energy who was visiting a Dam site for hydroelectricity opportunities. This Dam was the only thing which provided some economical value for the town. There was nothing much here. Population was below ten thousand, all below par socio economic status. The only concret…

The abandoned

The Abandoned
Mr. Kuthappa leaned against the wall adjacent to his bed and sipped the brownish, gold liquid from a tetra pack. Abstaining from what my eyes were showing “Mr. Kuthappa, what is that” I paced myself towards him, to show my authority, to demand the respect I deserved, to remind him he was the patient and I was the doctor. But my angry catwalk didn’t seem to intimidate him. Nothing was going to bother him now and we both knew I couldn’t save him with my knowledge or medications. It was too late. His body was completely submerged in the sea of alcohol. He continued sucking through the small hole of the tetra pack waiting to hit the sea bed. This was also a record new low in my life. An alcoholic drinking right in front of his doctor. “Oh, this” he let the pack swing between his index and thumb fingers. “This is what has guided me for the past 25 years. Always there for me in my bad times and good times.” Kuthappa gulped the remaining, squeezed the packet like a toothpas…

The diary of a freedom fighter

The diary of a freedom fighter.
I set the air condition to 18 C, turbo mode on, directed the air flow to my bed. Refreshed after a steaming, hot water shower I crashed, face first on my crisply draped bed. As the cool air performed its duty of drying me, I repositioned myself from prone to supine. A wet patch Today I decided to start a new book. But this time, it wasn’t a bestseller by a famous author, or a critically acclaimed book by an unknown author, or a book suggested by my reader friends (who read one book a year, so it had to be good) or a book recommended by amazon for me. Today, it was my grandfather’s diary, which my father had given me when I was 15 years old. The book dated back to the 1940s and it was a memoir of my grandfather’s time in pre-independent India. After 10 years of procrastination, finally the faded black cover of the diary was staring at me. I took a deep sniff of the approximately middle pages of the book. I did it before every new book. The peculiar, ink …