The Open Chakra

This is a horror short story I had written for Brev Spread magazine. You should check it out if you’re into really unique content. Oh, and read this one with the lights out for maximum effect!

The Open Chakra

Anxiety swelled in Alok’s chest as he noticed another speed bump in the distance. He held his crotch and waited in anticipation, contemplating the moment when he had to lift his pelvis up for relief. The rickety rickshaw he was in, ploughed its way through a thick curtain of rain. As he saw the speed bump nearing, he got up just in time to avoid undesired pressure on his bladder. He had been looking for a place to urinate for the past hour, but the heavy rains made it difficult to get out of the rickshaw. Alok was on his way to his friend Sandeep’s house for a night of drinking and fun. He had been keeping a watch on speed bumps to avoid involuntary urination, but he couldn’t do it anymore. He tapped the rickshaw driver’s shoulder lightly with his index finger.

‘Can you please stop by the side of the road? I really need to pee.’

The driver didn’t answer at first. Just as Alok reached out to call him again, the driver turned a little.

‘Can you hold it in, Sir? This is not a good place to pee.’

The Next Village

It was a cold and moonless night. A light breeze carried the cold straight to your bones. I was on my way home from the district market, where I had managed to make a small fortune in exchange for my skills in pottery. Darkness had swallowed me and a longing to see my family again clawed at me. Being alone on a forest trail in the dead of night isn’t the best situation to be in, but as fate would have it, I chose to walk home that night. Darkness often gives us a feeling that we’re being followed. But it was not just a feeling this night. I heard them, the heavy shuffling footsteps, and whipped around, praying. It was an old lady; withered and ancient. She reached out to me; a sign to wait for her. “Will you accompany me to the next village, son?” A part of me wanted to refuse, partly in fear of consequences that might pursue, but turning my back on her wasn’t the best choice either. I agreed and we strode together, side by side.

She was amazingly fast for someone her age, strong even. My mind was a plethora of entangled thoughts, some of which were desperate courses of action and fear of what would happen next. A couple of things caught my eye; her bushy white eyebrows, her red sari which was torn in places, black bands on her ankles and wrists, abnormally large grey eyes and the fact that she walked bare feet. “I’ll be taking the left ahead. I have to visit someone in the neighboring village first.” I blurted out, overwhelmed by fear. She turned slowly and looked at me without a word, her large grey eyes penetrating me. I felt a shudder. Then she nodded and the silence resumed.

The Last Ride

Round 3 – Me vs My rusty brain

Howdy. Just thought I’d try a hand at writing a spooky short story.  Comments and criticism are very much welcome. This ones called “The Last Ride.” Hope you like it. 😀

 The Last Ride

  The crackle of frying eggs woke Ramesh from his reverie. He was waiting around to grab a midnight snack at a local snack stall. It was rush hour as all night workers dropped in for a midnight snack at such stalls all across the country. The wait had made him slip off into the depths of his mind. He was thinking about life in general.

Ramesh was an auto rickshaw driver and like most lower class people in India, was in a financial crunch. He had four mouths to feed – three kids and a wife. All his children went to school and their fees were giving him a hard time. He could really do with some extra cash. At this point in thought, his platter of fried eggs and buttered bread arrived and he dug into it. He was ravenously hungry. He relished his meal and just as he finished eating, he raised his eyes to see an old man standing in front of him. He was just standing there. For how long, Ramesh didn’t know.