The Shallow Canal (A Paranormal Story)

 

1.

After a week long wait, the dream was going to come true and she was in my boat now with no one else around. She was a beauty like a majestic piece of painting on a rare piece of canvas by a hand obsessed in a poetic delusion to create a masterpiece; one in a billion. I could get so easily lost with the glowing pair of eyes, spilling out the perfect embodiment of innocence. I was feeling so thrilled to take her along in a boat ride in the lake in my 1000 acre estate.

 

No one else is permitted to row a boat in this part of the lake; my favorite place, so close to the wilderness. It always gives me a soothing feeling in the serenity of the deep blue lake with forest lines along both the banks. Of course, there is a fence to keep the wilderness of the forests well inside the border fixed for them with all the creatures and beasts live in this darkest part of the forests. And I used to feel a chilling thrill particularly with the soul-sucking laughs of hyenas, while floating my boat on the lake under the shade of a night sky. There is a shallow canal that flows straight into the forest and sometimes on some very special occasions I used to row my boat past a little gap in the fence to enter the canal in the twilight. And the feeling of crossing the borderline into the dark was incomparable. And today was such a big occasion with a real beauty accompanying me.

 

She approached me a week ago and it was not a very unusual thing for a marriageable heir to such a big estate with the biggest metal factory in the county. The first thing that struck my mind was the pair of eyes: a warm, curious and gentle look focusing on the farthest horizon behind, through my heart.

 

I wondered why on earth I hadn’t ever come across a beauty of such magnitude in all these years. The mysterious beauty with a mystified smile on her lips was actually in a holiday trip to her aunt’s home in my county. She was a university graduate with an interest in old castles and the life style running through the heirs to the estates for centuries. The common people hardly make any approach of intimacy with the ruthless rulers of their ancestors, but she, obviously as an outsider, ignored the long lasting tradition of keeping distance with the lineage of blue blood.

 

I got everything ready on my boat and things were going smoothly as per the plan. And I never failed in the execution of my plans. I make sure to bring everything under my sole control. But today was a little different. She didn’t want to get herself exposed to anyone else rather than me. So, I had to pick her up outside the palace gate and take her to my secret way to get inside the estate boundary. There was a time when I had to use that secret path. And it was not far from the lake.   

 

The secret way was so closely associated to my strewn childhood days when I used to escape the unbearable silence inside the palace, without my mother. I can still remember the moments when we were together; two innocent souls in riches and luxury and in prison under the iron ruling of my father. And then one day she escaped abandoning me all alone in this large luxurious green void. All the traces and signs attached to her staying in the palace had been destroyed a long ago. But, I don’t know how, an old picture of her remained intact with me as a secret childhood possession. The image of a young lady, radiating warmth of love from an enchantingly beautiful face and an innocent pair of eyes, had become my only companion that I almost hated to look at but couldn’t help it.  

 

I forced myself back to the boat and to the only companion, while trying to re-imagine the exciting and mouthwatering plans I made to do with her. And I was on the right course, rowing the boat slowly towards the music of the jungle; towards my most favorite place in the entire estate.  Riding in an evening zephyr with the peace and tranquility and the mystifying muse lying deep down the unison of water and jungle, we were sitting in the bewildering silence. There was a small gap between us and the gap was filled in with one of the oldest collections of wine bottle from our seller and lots of fruits and the well-conceived plan I made for her. 

 

 

2.

I was familiar with the Konlabos fruit and a few years ago when I discovered the rarest tree in one of my solo voyage in the darkest part of the forest, I was over excited with joy. It was such a great feeling of temporary paralysis that I had learned to enjoy with the extract of the fruit in an artistic blend with wine. The near death experience, by lying upright under the open sky with the eyes wide open and the sense helpless in a brutal failure to connect with the organs of the unresponsive body, is something way beyond explanation. But, today was a special occasion and the wine was exclusively for the beautiful girl accompanying me.

 

As I got the boat close to the shallow canal flowing inside the jungle, I started pouring the special wine in one of the glasses.

‘Sorry, I’ve got an allergy in wine and I know it sounds really awkward, but I don’t drink it,’ she told in an apologetic tone.

But the tone seemed so familiar to me, a long way back from the past. My mother hated wine. And all on a sudden I feel an awkward chilling breeze flowing straight into my veins. It had to be a hallucination. The girl sitting opposite to me started melting away, radiating a glow; powerful enough to blind my vision and my mind. I felt thirsty and gulped down the wine from the glass even before a friction of second when I realized that I was doing something wrong. But, I was late by a friction of second.

 

I knew very well what was going to happen with me. I took the wine meant for the girl who was supposed to be my seventh victim. I used to feel so excited and thrilled by throwing the immobile bodies down the shoreline of the shallow canal by the forest for the feasting of hyenas. From the safest distance after moving out of the canal, I used to see the ghostly figures with burning eyes; blood-freezing screams and cackling laughter.

 

And my body was giving in fast; not like the moments I enjoyed in my bedroom or the green lawn by the lake when I took the special wine to enjoy the self-induced paralysis for hours together. I started shivering with all my strength to turn the boat around, but I couldn’t hold the grip of the rowing oar. The boat kept moving along the danger zone and hit the shoreline in the shallow canal and I fall down with my upright body half submerged and my eyes wide open overlooking the darkening sky in the twilight.

 

I know I won’t have to wait long. The hyenas could smell the living flesh, the last line of the centuries old inheritance from a long long distance. And soon enough there will be my permanent release from the castle- full of hidden blood stains and sighs- in the feasting and laughing of the beasts.

© Atique R. 

The Party (a Paranormal story)

 

1

Rein Morrison was against the idea of keeping the White palace as it had been for the last couple of centuries; standing tall and high and proud with the silhouetted mountains behind it and the forest line at the slope of the hill at its west, which had grown tall and dark and wild with the welcoming absence of human interference.

 

The inexplicable attractions for mysteries and the unexplainable connection of human interest to the history of their ancestors had made the place a favorite one a long ago with its safe and pure wilderness amidst growing bushes, a deep blue lake and wild yellow flowers all around the property covering a huge area of 500 acres. And for the last fifty years, it had almost become a tradition for the people in the little town to spend their weekends in peace and tranquility of the White Park, as they called it; so close to the town yet far from the hustle and bustle of the city heart. With too many open grounds for the kids to play around, the beautiful view of the wild yellow flowers grown in abundance all around the place, the chilling breeze flowing in from the mountain ridge, the color blast of various plants and bushes on the slopes of the hills, the place had an irresistible appeal. And most importantly it was open for all.  

 

However, one thing was for sure that no one dared to trespass the un-inhabiting white palace gate. It always remained locked with an aura of mystery caved inside. Without any living heritance to claim, the palace naturally became the responsibility of the city council. They had to spend a budget, however little it was, to keep the outer part clean and mowed. But they themselves didn’t bother to clean the interior which was believed to be haunted by the souls still attracted to the place they used to be living in till their deaths.

 

But, the city people were okay with the haunted souls, if there were any, as long as they were residing inside the palace. There had never been any report of any harms done by any supernatural elements in and around the area. And there were the senior citizens who believed that the palace owners were good people with great hearts for the well-being of the people of the county. And there were no reason for them to turn hostile against the people they once loved, if their souls freed from their bodies a century ago would still roam around the palace. So, people, since the last three generations, never stopped spending their beautiful family times in the place around the palace and more interestingly, people from the adjacent towns and even from the faraway places started visiting the place for the historical appeal, mystified stories linked to the palace, and for the pure and serene beauty amidst the wilderness; still undisturbed.

 

2.

It was kept going on like this until one fine morning when the manager of a famous construction corporation came to the office of the Mayor with a modest and alluring proposal. The spreading interest of people outside the county drew the attention of the corporation to turn it a popular tourist destination by blending the beauty and the mystery of the palace and by harnessing the wilderness in favor of their monetary interests.    

 

Rein Morrison was the Mayor after all. And most of the city councilors were backing him for the business gain; both for the prospect of a sky-rocketed tax revenue and for the personal commissions they were secretly promised by the manager of Hide Valley Constructions Inc. And the promised commission was an unbelievably huge one; way beyond their imaginations. And all was just for their consent and signature on the approval papers for turning the White Palace a Five Star resort including the blue lake, the forest line and the open grounds in the property area.

 

There was an uproar against the decision among the little number of people who had happened to come across the exclusively secret approval in progress in the mayoral office. And Estella Merion was one among the councilors who protested against the decision. But everything was under the absolute control of the mayor, as the majority of the councilors under him had given their support in his favor. The signing ceremony was about to be happened in a grand style with a proper match of a five star facility. A majestic party was thrown from the construction corporation and the venue of the party was none other than the White Palace itself.

 

Even without the official approval signed, the corporation, with the consent of the mayor, started their work inside the property. Under the guise of a routine renovation work, the site had been closed down for two weeks and within this short time, they inspected the interior for a rough layout plan and got the grand hall of the palace ready for the party. The invitees, all being so exclusive and special and the heads of the city, were requested to attend the party with promises of surprises and the commissions of course.

 

3.

Estella Merion was not in a position to make it public until the approval was signed. Until then it was a matter supposed to be kept as a secret among the members of the city councilors as a part of their oath. And the mayor had a reason, well enough, for the approval. A large amount of revenue would be collected and numbers of new business opportunities would be opened up for the city, which was going to be gone past the status of a quiet and calm town with a few thousands of original inhabitants in total. Something big was going to be happened with the expected flood of people from everywhere and the city would no longer remain a little town.

 

She contacted one of her friends from the university, who was currently working as a freelance journalist. His name was James Pattinson, a thin, tall and gentle looking boy with long curl hairs and an innocent pair of eyes. But, inside, he was the most daring badass and adventure seeker among all her varsity friends. She requested him to make a report about the historical value of the palace and the true feeling involved with the natural tranquility and originality of the place. And the secret party they were going to attend even before the signing of the approval and about how the residents were cheated by the mayoral office by closing the location in the name of renovation work.

 

This was going to be a breaking news on the front pages of the local newspapers with the pictures of the party in the White Palace. A big time news. And that was the best Estella could do without knowing the exact outcome of the plan.          

 

4.

As a part of the plan to keep the party a secret one, the special invitees were instructed to get there in different times, keeping at least a time gap of fifteen minutes from one another in reaching the spot, their dream project.

 

The first one was David Muller, a favorite to the mayor. An aspiring young politician in his first term as a councilor. In his royal blue sedan he was on his way to the palace. He knew the place well with so many happy moments spent together with his family. And he knew that he was going to spend even better times there in the near future with all those five star facilities. It would be costly and no more a free zone for each and every vagrant, but he would be able to afford that with the promised business opportunity.  

 

He crossed past the downtown in fifteen minutes in a dwindling traffic with more fifteen minutes of driving time left. And suddenly he felt all alone on the street going along the hilly ways in slopes and turns. But driving was not a difficult job in a moonlit night with a maddening flow of light over the hills, roads and the silhouetted forest line which would eventually meet the palace. He was lost in so many thoughts but was driving carefully with the trace of no one else on the road. And then the surprise took its turn. After taking a turn crossing past another hill slope, a dazzling look with colorful lights glowing the proud White Palace struck his eyes. The palace was decorated with lightings, putting on well a majestically festive look. He knew that there would be surprises waiting for them, but he didn’t imagine that they could arrange such a grand party within such a short time.

 

With surprise, excitement and an inexplicable disbelief in his eyes and with a chilling feel flowing across his veins, he drove along and entered the driveway after crossing the alluring, well decorated palace gate, without thinking that his driving time was shortened by at least three minutes. And he didn’t speed up for that.   

 

Followed by David, the other four councilors drove along the same road; each maintaining the fifteen minutes of time gap from one another, as specified earlier. On the same road under the unchanged magical effect of the glowing Moon, they drove past the downtown, the straight road up to the mountainous one and then a couple of turns until the dazzling look of the palace; now in a surprisingly bright, colorful, shining and sparkling decoration with lighting. And almost with the same kind of feeling identical to those of David’s, they drove past the majestic palace gate and entered the driveway following the familiar cars parked in a row.

 

And then came Rein Morrison, the pride and powerful mayor. He did the same like the other councilors, but with a little hesitance. He always believes on his own judgments and often makes or enforces others to believe in them too. Deep down his mind, he knew that the palace wasn’t supposed to be here. It took him a little earlier to get this far and he couldn’t miss the third turn. He might have gone absentminded for a few moments and drove past the turn in a flow. As a very rare occasion, he got a little bemused and tried to figure out an explanation. And after watching the cars, all known to him, he drove his black Cadillac past the grand palace gate and the other cars on the driveway to park his one at the nearest to the door.      

 

5.

James Pattinson, the freelance journalist and the friend of Estella, reached the town a little after the twilight and boarded on a motel as a new tourist to the town. After having an early dinner at the motel restaurant, he started heading for the palace in a hired car. He had been briefed well about the exact location of the place. He knew well about how to get there. There will be a serpentine road along the mountains after crossing about ten kilometers from the downtown on a straight road and then there will be more ten kilometers journey on a car with three turns on the slope of three hills. And he was counting well the landmarks he had been briefed by Estella. He drove past the downtown, the straight road before the mountainous one and then eventually the second turn. And then he got utterly surprised seeing the glowing grandeur of a palace standing high and proud, just about five hundred meters away. He got confused and rethought about the location. No, it was made clear that he must cross past the third turn on the foothill of a hill and about two hundred meters later the blue lake would come in the sight with all its sparkling glow under the Moon. So, he decided to keep driving along the road for the third turn to show up, ignoring the other palace in a party look.

 

He reached there eventually and found the palace in a festive look just like the former one he left behind, just like a prototype; but without any guests or any welcome note usual for such a splendid party. Two big guys, almost in the size and shape of gorillas, rushed to his car in an impatient look. The hired car was not near anything to match such a party or the special invitees. 

 

6.

The business magnet, Michael Callahan, the corporate head of the construction company and unquestionably the mastermind behind the plan, was the kind of person who never waited for chances to materialize. He just makes a decision and propels things turn in the favors required for the execution of the decision; exercising his power, brutality, money or whatever is required to cater to the desired consequences.

 

James was taken to him by the Bigfoots from the palace door.

‘And what the hell are you doing here and where is that bloody mayor. I have been waiting for his goddamn councilors for more than an hour,’ a commanding voice full of anger and impatience shot out of the mouth of Callahan.

James knew what he was going to deal with and he had his story ready.

‘Actually sir, I’m just a tourist passing by. I am fond of mysterious places like old palaces with interesting historical backgrounds. I just happened to take a night break in the town. As I was having my dinner in a restaurant by the bus stop, I heard people talking about this palace and the renovation works in progress. I was little curious and got some interesting facts out of them. I thought that there got to be people around here or may be camps for the ongoing renovation works. As I was planning to move on early next morning and had time in hand before throwing myself to the motel bed, I just wanted to pay this place a visit. I had no idea about two separate parties were going on in two different palaces within the range of a couple of kilometers. And in fact, I didn’t heard that there would actually two palaces to explore here and surprisingly both the palaces were decorated in the same grandeur and brightness,’ he finished his part of the story in just one breath.

‘What the hell do you mean by another palace within a few kilometers?’

‘The other one after the second turn on the way from the downtown.’

‘Are you kidding, kid? There is no trace of any other palaces within the range of 100 kilometers; neither in this county, nor in the nearby ones. Wait a minute, was it a palace or something else? Is it something to foil our signing party? Did Estella get the proposal leaked out and hence there is still no trace of the mayor and his goddamn councilors?’ 

 

The angered businessman overwhelmed by the thought of another party, probably in some makeshift tents out in the jungle to foil his plans, went just mad and outrageous. He shot out of the hall room in a second and his bodyguards, manager and the butler started running after him. And a puzzled James was left all alone in the large hall room with a dining table full of mouth-watering dishes, fruits, and the branded bottles of wines. And then he heard the creaking sounds of cars speeding away out of the gate.

 

With the general curiosity, not like that of a journalist, James started looking at the mind-blowing interior of the hall room, the large paintings hanging on the walls, the sculptures kept beautifully over a wooden cabinet and the precious artefacts. With the sudden turn to the event beyond his imagination and the aura ruling over the entire hall room, he started feeling thirsty. He went straight to the dining table, took an already opened bottle of wine, poured it down to a glass and gulped down the wine in one single sip. And the last thing he could remember was the sofa he was staggering to, swaying a little.

 

7.

He woke up the next morning with the bright rays of Sun peeping inside the room from the big window on the eastern terrace. It was already 8am in the morning and he was still alone inside the massive hall room, which was looking so different in the day light. The main door was still open. He went out of the room and threw an examining look outside the palace. A dozen of workers were waiting outside their tents set against the boundary wall on the western side. They all were waiting for the instructions from some commanding voices. And there was no one left in and around to give them one. 

 

James got on his car and drove past the gate, leaving all those puzzled looks behind. He himself was in utter confusion regarding what had actually happened last night. To connect the loose ends, he immediately decided to go back to the town and talk to Estella. But he was driving slowly with a careful look searching for the other palace he saw last night. He drove past the turn and then another one, without seeing any clue or trace of what he had seen on his way to the White Palace.      

 

It took him a little more than thirty minutes to get to the town, and the little more time was needed for his backward driving in the second attempt to locate the other palace. The town woke up too by this time with people at restaurants, on the streets and in the cars to commute to their works. But, none among them seemed to be in a hurry to trigger any deafening chaos. A group of people were seen passing some peaceful moments without any rush to chase the life at the park by the bus stop. No one with any knowledge of the changes made to the looming and lurking fate of the city. No one will ever know what was going to be happened with their lovely city by the hands of the mayor and the corporation. And no one will ever know how their mayor and his councilors got vanished in the air without any trace, understandable to human beings, left.

 

And James entered the town needing a new mayor and new councilors in its new dawn.   

© Atique R.   

The Gift of the Nature (A paranormal Story)

 

We used to call him Millin, the Silencer. Can’t exactly remember who had given him the name, but whenever he is around in the middle of any of our group chats at the bus stoppage, an unusual silence engulfs the entire aura. He always sits in one of the front seats by the door, while putting on a mask of silence all the way back home. And the sit beside him usually remains unoccupied as well; as usual. He is my colleague in a different branch of the bank at the same area. We used to take the same route and I didn’t know much about him, probably like a lot many other colleagues who happen to see one another just in the office transport. But I usually try to give him a smile and say hi and he gives me back a smile too without making that much muscle movement in his face. But the look of his eyes authenticates that they are something coming out of the heart.

Sometimes I wanted to sit beside him and talk to him a little more. But, I too was an introvert type of person without a lot of friends. And I hardly make the first approach to make friends. I was in a sad mood today and wanted to avoid the clamoring down the back seats with lots of easy-going, flamboyant and fun-loving guys. So, I made an outwardly usual thing of taking the side seat of Millin, which in turn looked like an unusual event; understandable by the look of a lot many nearby colleagues.

I tried to act normal with him like we regularly commute together in the same bus to the same office. And to my utter surprise, it appeared to be a normal thing from his part too; with a welcome note in a familiar and friendly environment. And he kept talking. In fact a lot beyond my expectations, as if thousands of untold words were caved in an iron cage; suffocating.

He was literally lost in a different world from the one he was still living in. The memories of his lost childhood days were flooding in with a spiritual glow spilling out of his eyes and heart. And he kept going on like a stream with so many ideas, untold stories and fallen dreams flowing together unstoppable.     

He couldn't seem to accept the reality of the social media overpowering the entire living style of each and everybody around him, including his colleagues and family members. He seemed to be utterly frustrated by the individual isolation and the absence of social interaction in the real sense. He deeply missed playing in the open fields with friends, living in joint families with lots of siblings and cousins, living a life so close to the nature, and fishing all through the night in the nearly dried river during winter in the full Moon nights.    

He was talking about those beautiful memories of the golden past while most of the colleagues were busy with their mobile sets. They remain busy chatting with friends they hardly know, but hardly do they make a conversation with the guys sitting next to them; all seemingly look like the petals of apparitions like those in Ezra Pound's Station of Metro.

The chaos and the deafening sirens were engulfing the present, while he was lost in the peaceful tranquility of the village he left thirty years ago. Even the village, far from the madding crowd, has changed a lot in the course of time; but not in his memories.

 

Back then there were no electricity facilities in the remotest villages and henceforth there were no presence of the powerful street lights or bulbs inside the rooms to rule over the looming darkness of the nature in the cycle of day and night. Yes, there were kerosene lamps, lanterns and sometimes paraffin lamps for the night-long folk festivals on the special occasions. 

Studying together in a group with all the siblings in the balcony, taking respective parts in the daily chores, working in the farm lands, sailing boats, coming back home in the twilight, having early dinners, keeping studies aside for the day lights, going to beds too early, listening to the music of darkness, watching the dancing of the fireflies and responding to the nature by treating it as a living entity were the things to define those days. Full of life.

He used to live in a joint family. A huge family it was back then, consisting of 20 members including his two other siblings, and a lot of paternal cousins. It was just unlike any other farming families of that time with acres of farming lands and cows to plough and with every single person taking parts into the entire process from preparing the lands, planting seeds, irrigation, weeding, reaping and husking. During the times of reaping the crops, usually twice a year, a festive aura took over the entire village with the arrangements of various annual programs, folk festivals, fairs, family get together, marriage ceremonies and many others with the active participations of people from all walks of life. 

With the memories of golden childhood days, the gloss of the liquid gold was literally streaming out of his eyes.

‘You had had such great times back in your village. Lovely memories,’ I said in a low and slow tone as I myself was somehow lost in my untamed childhood days in a tiny town, just a decade ago.

He went on in a natural flow as if he was witnessing himself the days before his own eyes.

 

‘I had died when I was in grade five,’ he said in a voice from the past.

I got startled and came back to the present myself with a widened look and a mouth flung half open in search of words.

‘At least I thought myself to be dead with a near death experience I had at the age of twelve; a teenager back then with the boundless joys and tameless chasing all through the day into the wilderness. And I still believe that I am living my second life as a gift from the nature.’ 

He kept talking about the village life and other things that seemed quite unnatural in the current day context. The villagers would believe in the supernatural things coexisting with the human beings and they used to put aside parts of the places entirely for them and hardly did they make any attempt or endeavor to disturb them. Those were usually the remotest part of the villages with the unwandered and the darkest forest lines along the marshlands or streams cruising along the forest. They used to keep those places undisturbed and untrodden for the wild creatures; natural or supernatural. There were mysterious sounds and howls. Tearing apart the silence of the deep dark nights, those sounds would come through the place known as the Dark Forest.  Sometimes the dancing of shimmering lights were seen from the faraway localities, especially during the New Moons. There had been a border line; unmarked but believed to be maintained since the time immemorial as a treaty to not cross by the human beings with the shadowed and mystified knowledge of the other supernatural entities.

 

‘I had a group of friends back in those days. We used to play together in the open fields, swim in the small river flowing across the village, collect seasonal fruits from the naturally grown orchards, and climb the tall coconut trees for quenching our thirsts with fresh coconuts. However, I was the weakest teenager among the rowdy group of friends in climbing trees. The most amazing part was catching fishes in the river and mainly in the stream that was flowing straight into the Dark Forest. I must say, I used to be an expert angler outsmarting each and everyone in this particular event of those golden days. But we had never dared to cross the line; a swamp forest with an alluring source of larger school of fishes,’ Millin said with his pair of eyes, once again, being filled in with the sparkling glows of tears.  

There was a magical effect in each and every words being spoken by him. I didn’t need to ask him any question. Amidst the maddening crowd and chaos, I was lost too in the world, an entirely separate one. I could visualize things with each and every details, as if I was right there with him along with his other friends.    

   

It was full Moon that night. Millin and his five other friends decided to make a midnight voyage at the swamp forest. They had heard that during a full Moon the shoals of largest fishes come out of their hiding and swim freely along the maddening flow of the Moon.

Six friends in two small boats with fishing nets started sailing on the stream along the Dark Forest, in the chilling breeze at the end of autumn. The Moon set high, beaming its magical flow of glimmering light over the large long trees. They kept rowing their boats with a deep shrouding silence engulfing the entire locality and they steered past the last sign of human inhabitants, splitting and splashing the reflection of Moon on water, gliding along ahead of their boats.  

The Moon delusion, the rhythmic and soft murmur of the water caused by the oars, the soothing breeze and the excitement of the midnight voyage cast the spell of a gripping silence. And in silence they were reaching close to the swamp forest. The line of Dark Forest was silhouetted against the dimming sky, with part of the Moon now half eaten by the long forest line. The silence soon started to fade away with the sounds of the night in the deep jungle. They didn’t want to come this close, actually. But the familiar place in the daylight turned out so mysterious in the shadow of the Moon, they unintentionally crossed the unmarked border line specified by the shamans in the older days.

Millin was in the front boat with two other friends who wanted to move back with the sudden changes taking place in the shadows and the sounds of the silhouetted Dark Forest, looking like so close to them now. They suddenly started to feel the chilling breeze flowing through their souls now, with droplets of sweats started to stream down their cheeks. The boat behind them had already started to row back without making any attempt to throw the fishing net into the water.

But Millin was known to be the real badass among them, pushing aside his partial climacophobia. He was still with the plan to catch the biggest fish in the swamp. He threw the fishing net into the water in his usual perfection, while his two companions started to take a sudden turn into the way back to the moonlit part of the stream. But the net seemed to have struck an accurate location in the water with a real big catch.

All on a sudden, Millin felt a strong downward pull from the net deep inside the stream. Overpowered by the fierce force, he was pulled out of the turning boat and fell into the cold, dark and deep water. He felt out of breath. Even in a half conscious mind he knew that he was going to die. The last thing he could remember was that a powerful current in a whirl was taking him far far away into the deeper and darker part of the stream where no one had ever attempted to move in even in the broad day light.              

 

‘I was presumed to be dead. My friends came back later with a few more friends and tried to search my body close to the swamp forest by torch lights. All the villagers together made the bravest attempt to cross the line by about a hundred yards into the swamp forest in search of my body in the next morning. But all their efforts went in vain. And then in the next morning I was found sleeping on the highest branch of a 500 years old banyan tree in the midst of the local market,’ he said in a low voice and in a tone which sounded like coming from another person inside him.

I myself started feeling the chilling breeze flowing across all through my veins with droplets of sweats over my forehead.     

‘I had the blurred memories of my near death experience. And except that I couldn’t remember anything. But since then I started seeing things what others around me couldn’t. Sometimes I can see the partial view of a parallel world with a lot many shadowed figures. Getting over with the initial problems, I learned to live with that and took it to be a gift of nature which goes beyond the explanations within the boundary of physics,’ he added releasing a sigh of either depression or relief. But, now in the voice familiar to me.

 

The stoppage close to my home came and I got down from the bus, like walking out of an unremembered dream, looking around to see the unseeable things.

© Atique R.