A Lost Family

About Deepak Rana

Born and brought up amid Himalayas, Deepak Rana has been following his dreams. After completing his engineering, he worked at Deloitte for one and a half years, before he opted for writing as a full time career. His first novel – Sky Beyond the Clouds, was published by Leadstart Publishing Private Limited in 2013. He has also published a non-fiction work, Oh Nationalism, and a number a short stories. When he is not reading or writing, Deepak goes to strange places and worries about strange people.

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Their lips enveloped each other. The tongues cavorted. Both trembled. One aah’ed, the other ooh’ed; both tried to savour their lust, which was urging for more, with each passing moment. Their hands clasped, their feet worked against the friction caused by the sweat of their bodies, and they pushed each other. And they pushed quite hard! The clothes were a part of history now and the naked bodies were doing what they were supposed to do. Shaking. Jumping. Dancing in rhythm. The window on the left side of the wall was partially open, and the passage of air coming through it, was giving them another reason to shiver. Trembling bodies lusted even more.

And right outside the window, in the freezing cold weather, there was I. Smirking quietly.

They were married for twelve long years, but the love-making had clearly not lost its charm. I kept peeping in; the bed kept shaking, making scratchy sounds while stroking against the floor; and they kept screaming and shouting.

“Come on. Ah! Push me! Rock me!” She was pleading with joy and pain. He was responded by shaking his head and forced himself onto her. Digging deeper and heaving harder.

“You have learnt new moves during my business trip.” He said; he was panting.

“Shut up!”

“Oh yeah… I just–”

“Shut up!”

And so he did, and continued to do what he was supposed to, till the time his ageing organs allowed.

The struggle ended with the obvious results. The bodies remained stuck to each other and showed no signs of movement. They could have had more of it, which they would usually do. The gentle love making or a romantic talk. But they didn’t. No words came out. No cuddling happened. Perhaps, it was not going as well as they would have expected.

A scream from the other room terrified them. Straight away, they knew that it was that of their daughter – Nicky. Both of them rushed out of the bedroom in their half naked bodies. As they entered Nicky’s room and turned on the lights, it shook them to death.

There was no Nicky in the room. Instead, there were bloodstained clothes on the bed; the ones she was wearing the last evening.
I loved that taste when the skin was chopped and sucked the red fluid that was underneath.

Poor couple had no clue what was going on. That terrified look on their faces brought content in my heart.

“No…” they shouted simultaneously, as they realised the possibility of the cruellest event that could have happened.

The wife, without any delay, started to cry. The husband, who was still keeping his hopes alive, rushed towards the telephone.

“Damn it…” he said in a frustrated voice and banged the telephone on the floor. Of course, I had managed to cut the line. There was no other way they could connect to the outside world. And then, there was a car, whose tyres were punctured. No need to mention who did that? So, when he realised that there was no way he could get out of his house, he did nothing, but yelled in frustration. But a bigger trouble was waiting for him, when he got out of the car and came back to the room.

The wife was dead.

Her head was crushed to the pieces and was no longer identifiable. But it was her, he knew that. Of course, no need to mention, who did that? It had happened only five minutes ago. If the room was not soundproof, he could have heard the scream and have tried to save her. He wouldn’t have succeeded, though.

He was devastated, and rightly so, he had lost his family, in no time. I could see him kneeling down, crying, and yet not being able to express his emotions. I moved towards him, slowly and carefully, from behind. He sat there, staring at the floor, unaware about what was going to happen to him next. I had a long iron rod in my hands.

As I took my stance, to hit the back of his head, he turned. And he got couple of seconds to see who I was, and therefore instead of the back of his head, the face had to bear the torment. The result was same.

I jumped off the window. I had done what I intended to.

Only the next morning, when the servants came to the house, the news spread. Those who saw the dead bodies, could not believe their eyes. The investigation began too. But, as it happens with most of their investigations, they could not find any evidence or even the slightest of a clue about it. I was a smart killer, after all.

It happened fifteen years ago, but the memories are still afresh. It was the first time my brutal behaviour slew a life, but not the last.

Since then, it has been easier; a lot easier. Nobody doubts me. In fact, people are often concerned about me. They ask – Nicky don’t you miss your family? I smirk.


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