Chapter 14 : The Redeemer

Team Writers’ Den

writers den

Read the previous chapters here – Game Of Blogs – Writers’ Den

The little chat that Cyrus had with the sub-inspector Duryodhan Desle in cell number 308 disturbed him. He had to get out of this police custody immediately. He requested Duryodhan to allow him to make a phone call.

As Cyrus made that one call, Duryodhan looked up and sniggered in his direction, before grabbing his paan from the drawer and made an attempt to look busy with some papers.

*             *             *              *                 *

JJ tapped her fingers on the table top, a habit she had when she was feeling restless, and glanced at her phone for the hundredth time hoping the clock would tick faster. But the time was moving at its annoying pace and the clock showed 3:30 in the afternoon . There was still no sign of the delivery boy.

Patience. Patience. She repeated. But then, while patience with hard work can move mountains, patience in idleness that she was convincing herself of, a few seconds ago, moves nothing, not even cobwebs. She took a deep breath in and opened her laptop to do something constructive.

The start-up page on the Google Chrome opened with her Facebook wall. As she checked her timeline, a smiling picture of Cyrus greeted her. Her heart did a complete somersault. She gave a wistful look at his picture hoping that he would join her soon. On an impulse, she clicked on his picture and saw his timeline. As she scrolled further down, she came across a link. She opened the link and it led to a blog. Cyrus’s blog. An appreciative whistle escaped her lips.

The first post she saw…

Cyrus Blog

“Ok, so he has a blog! And writes about legal investigation cases “, she mused. Before, she could explore further, the delivery boy interrupted her, “Madam, your papers!”.

“At last!”, she muttered, before dismissing him with a curt nod of her head.

Immediately, she packed her laptop and the papers and rushed out.

*             *             *              *                 *

Duryodhan leered at her with a sick smile as he found that all the bail papers were in order. He shouted at the constable to bring Cyrus out from his cell.

JJ and Cyrus exchanged a look which was not lost on Duryodhan.

*             *             *              *                 *

JJ and Cyrus drank their coffee in companionable silence, until Cyrus finally broke the quiet. After all that she had done for him, he believed that it was time for him to come clean and tell her the truth. He cleared his throat and looked at her feeling all bashful and guilty.

“Actually, I have not been honest with you”, he stuttered.

It took her a moment to absorb it but she eventually lifted her right brow and looked back at him.

“I have been to the crime scene and have collected 3 pieces of evidence. I have a chocolate wrapper, a blank piece of paper and a thorn from the crime scene and Duryodhan knows about it. My instincts tell me, that these will lead us to crucial discoveries about the gruesome murder of lil’ Sophia.”, he explained.

“I have been thinking about these, since the past 3 days in that wretched cell but nothing is making any sense. I think we must consult the expert from Mumbai. His name is Aryan…”

“…Ahuja!”, JJ completed for him. He gave her an incredulous smile.

“Aah! So you have been snooping around my blog!”, he looked pleased now.

*             *             *              *                 *

Finding his address was a cake walk. As they reached his building, JJ stopped dead in her tracks. Cyrus looked at her with his eyebrows raised questioningly. After recovering from the initial shocked surprise, JJ found her voice and said, “This is where Tara stays too!”

He was about a head taller than her and had a clean short crew cut. He had distinct cheekbones and an angular jaw made him look devilishly handsome. He was lost deep in thought as he looked at the dull weather outside. JJ was busy admiring the man in front of her oblivious to the inner turmoil raging inside him. The man had aged right in front of their eyes. His earlier reaction of point blank refusal for taking up the case was a sharp contrast to the pensive looking man when they mentioned Sophia’s name.

Cyrus nudged JJ with his shoulder and gave her a withering look. He cleared his throat and said, “Please, Mr Ahuja, you must help us. If not for anything, at least for Sophia. She must have played in front of you…”

“Oh anything for Tara errr I mean, Sophia…. “, he stuttered and muttered, the overcast weather mirroring his mental state.

“Please, call me Aryan and tell me all that you know about this case”, his demeanour completely changed. He was all business.

*             *             *              *                 *

Read the next chapter of the story here

Me and my team are participating in ‘Game Of Blogs’ at #CelebrateBlogging with us.

Chapter 6 : The Vulnerables

Team Writers’ Den

writers den

Chapter 1: Mens Rea by Mahesh Sowani
Chapter 2: A Morning Star by Rohini Varun
Chapter 3: The Cursed One by Sreesha Divakaran
Chapter 4: The Vanquished by Aurindam Mukherjee
Chapter 5: The Insurmountable by Vinay Biradar

The story continues…

42% Complete…

JJ tapped her fingers on the table restlessly, as the file transfer continued to take its own sweet time. Her mind took her to the moment she had a chance encounter with Tara that night at News Today office. A casual chat with one of her colleague revealed something weird about Tara. Her curiosity was piqued and she wanted to get to the bottom of it. The search in the desk drawers did not reveal anything, so she looked at her computer.

While she willed the computer to reveal some dark secrets, Tara’s voice jolted her from her thoughts.

“What brings you here at this late hour? And what are you doing on my computer, JJ?”, she had asked. Her voice was smooth, like water calmly flowing over a smooth rock, though there was an icy glint in her eyes.

Beads of sweat trickled down the length of her body, as JJ struggled to stay calm.

“Of course, work. What else?” Did you like the “The Queen of Arabian Sea”?, she asked and hoped that Tara wouldn’t come and stand besides her, as she quickly closed the various open windows in the computer.

Tara was walking towards her desk, when a phone call distracted her. JJ gathered her bag, mouthed a bye and made a dash for the exit. Outside, she heaved a sigh of relief at her luck. Had she been there for a few more seconds, she would have seen Tara turning white into a sheet.

*             *             *              *                 *

Settling with a cup of coffee, she dialled his number. Cyrus picked up her call at the very first ring. Their relationship did not require the horrid nonsense of having to exchange pleasantries, so they got down to business, immediately. The 65 pictures captured by her DJI Phantom Drone were viewed and reviewed back and forth on their respective laptops.

A few pictures made her throw up while he squirmed in his chair. The body of the little girl, Sophia was discovered at a secluded area near railroad tracks. She had been bound, blindfolded, 666-lucisgagged, and stripped naked from the waist down. The child had been brutally tormented and it appeared that death came after hours of torture, having suffered injuries to her vagina and anus as a result of repeated sexual assaults. Something was carved on her forehead. Zooming the picture revealed it to be 666 which was cleverly concealed. It was the mark of the Beast. The blood had dried and blackened and encrusted around the symbol in haphazard patterns on her once beautiful face.

“Who could have done this?”, JJ asked, incredulously.

“The Lucifer’s army is at work. Looks like that the some new “initiates” are inducted in the army, with a baptsim in ‘blood and semen’ to make it all fine!”, explained Cyrus.

As she chewed on this revolting information, he felt the need to elaborate further, “Their rituals are based on the manipulation of energy and consciousness. They believe that blood contains the life-force energy, so drinking human blood is good for their inter-dimensional connection. They prefer young children because they are not contaminated like adults. Sex with corpses fresh or less is hailed as ‘divine’ too. Hard to accept isn’t it?”

“Sickos”, she said vehemently.

“Let’s get it cracking, lady. Will you work with me on this maiden case of mine?” He knew the answer, but he still asked. Was he feeling jittery at the enormity of task and the path that was laid ahead?

*             *             *              *                 *

She woke up from her nightmare with a start. Heart pounding in her ears, she tried to scream.

But when she tried to open her mouth, it was just not happening. Roohi’s nightmares were following her like a shadow. Sitting at the edge of her bed, Shekhar despised himself some more. He hated when his anger turned into tears.

*             *             *              *                 *

Read the next part of the story here by Archana Karkera

Me and my team are participating in ‘Game Of Blogs’ at #CelebrateBlogging with us.

The Lonely Road…


The night is long and lonely. After endless tossing and turning in bed, I decide to listen to the music to calm myself.

As soon as I press the ‘Play’ on the music-player, I panic and realize that the ‘noise’ would disturb the children.

I fumble in the dark to press the ‘Stop’ and search for the earphones, the cough syrup breaks into smithereens upon hitting the floor.

As my nerves fray some more, I hear my son’s grouchy voice, “Is this the hour for pranks, Dad?”

He leaves without waiting for my reply and without seeing my crestfallen face.


This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

In this prompt a story is weaved using the three words, earphones, cough syrup and prank.

Image Courtesy : morgueFile

A Drabble is an extremely short work of fiction which is exactly one hundred words in length.

Chapter 2 : The Dream I Dream…

We all know about this game called Chinese Whispers in which one person whispers a message to another, which is passed through a line of people until the last player announces the message to the entire group. We at Write Tribe are doing just that but with stories on our blog. One person tells a short story on his/her blog, the next Blogger will continue the story, till it finishes on Blogger no. 9.

Chapter 1 by Richa.

Chapter 2… read on…

The Dream I Dream…

Rohan pursed his lips, furrowed his brow and slowly shook his head from side-to-side.

‘I want you in my cabin with the ABC project report NOW’. He gave me one last disgusted look before leaving me alone.

Oh, but I am not alone. It is Sid, the Mr-Know-It-All, again. I know, he means good for me and is always there to protect me. His uneasy but spot-on questions irk me but what really gets me is his domineering attitude.

‘Aha! The bossy can’t stand you too’, I heard his voice mocking me. clip_image001

‘Why is he always difficult and snappy with you?’. This time I could see his eyes bright with mischief.

Ignoring him, I went back to my workstation and woke up my laptop from its deep slumber. As I navigated through various folders to locate the updated ABC project report, I saw Sanket enter Rohan’s cabin.

Mr Chauhan, the man of my dreams, like a hero bashed my boss, verbally. I could see Rohan with his sullen face looking down. I could sense the glow of a smile rise up through my whole being.

*                                       *                                           *

No matter how hard I tried, sleep never came easily to me. Every time I closed my eyes images of my father’s face flooded my mind. The memories which I wanted to bury would come closer and closer to the surface. Some secret part of me remembers the dirty things done to me as a child, every night.

Like every night, the little boy, who calls me ‘Shish’ comes and calms me.

I know, Shishir must be a tongue twister for him.

“Shish, stay calm”, he said in his child-like voice which was paired with mature wisdom.

Yes, stay calm. I have become an expert on that. Because, that’s what I have been doing since ages. Yes, stay calm and let go of the pain and get over with it quickly. The more you resist, the more the pig enjoys. By pig, I mean the real pig in my life as well as the one George Bernard Shaw referred to.

To tell you the truth this little boy’s soothing words have a calming and a comforting effect on me and his presence lulls me to sleep.

But not for long, as the demons of the dreams visit and awaken me.

It is the same dream again. But it is a bit different this time.

The knife is not pointed at me like how I have seen it earlier in my dreams.

As I toss and turn to shake that nightmare away, I hear Sid’s urgent voice, jolting me up from sleep.

‘Wake up you fool. See, what you have done!’ I see him sneer with contempt.

I feel something hard in my hand. I sit up in my bed with a start. I am holding a big knife. With a shriek, I throw it away and cover my mouth with my hands.

My hands are sticky. Why? I look down. Why are my clothes stained? Am I bleeding? Did I cut myself?

Am I still dreaming? Is all this a part of the dream?

Tribe whispers is an idea proposed by Ayush Chauhan in the  Write Tribe Facebook Group. Members of the group are working together to create a story. Read more here: Tribe Whispers at Hundred Works.

The story of the Tribe Whispers (Group 2) now moves to Pixie for Chapter 3.

Stay tuned…

UBC Day 27 : Silence…


Tring- Tring, the phone rang.

She willed it to stop ringing.

Unmindful of her turmoil, it continued to disrupt her inner peace as well as the silence of the room.

Thoughts of an impending harassment over a crank call were clouding her mind, when she heard him say, “No, I don’t want a credit card.”

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

UBC Day 23 : The Shadow of His Smile…


It was the third call since morning. Her stomach churned and beads of sweat formed on her forehead as she replaced the receiver. The caller called her name and then said nothing till he disconnected, without answering her questions about his identity.

Should she call Jesse? Last time, he had brushed it off, when she said someone was following her.

Wearily, she returned home and heard Jesse mentioning about a parcel for her.

She untied the string and opened the box . With horror stricken eyes she looked at Jesse.

Did she see a shadow of his smile? Is he…

100 Words on Saturday - Write Tribe

This is in response to The Write Tribe Prompt.

UBC Day 17 : The Story Continues…

Today’s Wednesday Write Tribe prompt is to conclude both or one of these stories.

  1. Varsha Bagadia’s ‘A Moment of Happiness
  2. Patrick O’Scheen’s ‘Proud Child

I chose Varsha’s ‘A Moment of Happiness’. Read her story first and then check out my attempt to conclude her story.


The police officer disappointed him.

Unlike the other ‘followers’ who allowed him to savour fear or horror in their eyes, the officer showed just some confusion.

The first blow was fatal enough and the second was uncalled for, but he couldn’t take any chances.

The officer with his investigations could put his mission on a back burner.

He chuckled to note that the officer came across as a bonus, but he still needed 4 more ‘followers’ in the next 2 days.

He can’t let his master down, the powerful ‘ Angel of Light’ who directed him through his neighbour’s dog.

Write Tribe

This is in response to the Write Tribe Prompt – Continue The Story

UBC Day 10 : Between a Rock and a…


She had to refer that old calendar for her artwork, which lay somewhere in the attic.

It looked tidy enough, but she couldn’t find it.

Her eyes fell on her mother’s rusty box which was off limits for her as a child.

‘I’m no longer a child’, she thought and peered into its contents.

A postcard caught her eyes.

She was numb with shock.

Is it true or a wild accusation? Will tossing a coin help her decide?

Which side her responsibility rest?

Her father was framed for a crime he did not commit.

And the culprit was her mother!!

Write Tribe
This is in response to the Write Tribe Contest #1 using the 7 words :
postcard,  coin,  tidy,  wild,  help, calendar and responsibility in random order.

UBC Day 7 : You Have The Power…



You have the power… the power to make my heart skip a beat when I hear your footsteps.

You have the power… the power to make my legs feel like jelly with just a raised eyebrow.

You have the power… the power to give me butterflies in my stomach with that sardonic smile.

You have the power… the power to make me wait with bated breath as you contemplate your next move.

You have the power… the power to kill me silently when you say nothing at all.

You have the power… the power to liberate me from this hellhole.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

UBC Day 6 : Lost Treasure

cooltext1108140704I was waiting for my bus and it started to rain. Out of nowhere, he got under my umbrella. The initial shock gave way to a smile.

There was something nice about him that I couldn’t put my finger on.

A beautiful relationship was thus born.

Then one day, out of nowhere he said, “It wouldn’t work anymore between us.

It was tough to accept that our paths had changed, initially.

But now, I wouldn’t change a thing.

We grew up as individuals because of our love.

The love we shared is a treasure. So, what if I lost it.

100 Words on Saturday - Write Tribe
This is in response to The Write Tribe Prompt
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...