It had been a busy week. Meera, five years old in the elearning industry had taken the big career leap. After passing the multiple rounds of interview, she had been accepted for the position of a senior technical writer. The new company was one of pioneers in the elearning industry and Meera was excited to start a new chapter of her career. She had found an apartment in a neighborhood close to the office. Today she would move in with a couple of bags and planned to set up the place over the weekend. After spending all those years in a hostel, sharing rooms, she was thrilled beyond words at having a place for herself.
After doing a final check on the Tasks for the Day list at her desk, she decided to call it a day. The cab took a left turn at 15th Cross street. It was little off from the main road and gave a deserted look except for a dog who kept running from one end of the street to the other. She had quickly grown fond of the place with its quiet surroundings and tall dark trees; the apartment had an open balcony that looked over to the East. She could picture herself curled up in her favorite chair with her copy of Wuthering Heights sipping tea from her purple Powerpuff Girls cup. She had found her corner in this world.
She unlocked the door and stepped into her new home. Dropping her bags she looked around. There were a few things leftover by the previous tenants. Meera decided to get down to cleaning business without wasting any more time.
One hour later, the house looked more habitable than when Meera had first stepped in. She had collected the abandoned, old things at one place, planning to dispose them next morning. But she was not ready to let go of the rocking chair. Made up of shisham wood, the chair gave an old world look to the whole place. She was besotted by its charming style and it would go perfectly with her minimal decor idea.
Too tired to cook, she crashed into her bed, hungry. Sleep came easily, and she drifted in and out of dreams. There was her mother advising her to eat well, her project manager listing out another task for the day, Abhi sounding concerned over her decision to live alone, and then she heard a faint creaking sound. Startled, she woke up with her heart beating fast. The creaking sound, it happened again. And again.
Heart in her mouth, she gathered courage to walk into the living room. The chair was there, moving back and forth, slowly, rhythmically. The creaking sound, loud and clear now.
"Oh God! I am afraid!", she thought. "I am afraid of the dark".
This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. WOW theme of the week: 'Your response to the question, 'Are you afraid of the dark?'.
One hour later, the house looked more habitable than when Meera had first stepped in. She had collected the abandoned, old things at one place, planning to dispose them next morning. But she was not ready to let go of the rocking chair. Made up of shisham wood, the chair gave an old world look to the whole place. She was besotted by its charming style and it would go perfectly with her minimal decor idea.
Too tired to cook, she crashed into her bed, hungry. Sleep came easily, and she drifted in and out of dreams. There was her mother advising her to eat well, her project manager listing out another task for the day, Abhi sounding concerned over her decision to live alone, and then she heard a faint creaking sound. Startled, she woke up with her heart beating fast. The creaking sound, it happened again. And again.
Heart in her mouth, she gathered courage to walk into the living room. The chair was there, moving back and forth, slowly, rhythmically. The creaking sound, loud and clear now.
"Oh God! I am afraid!", she thought. "I am afraid of the dark".
This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. WOW theme of the week: 'Your response to the question, 'Are you afraid of the dark?'.
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