Dead But Living: The Borrowed Life, #1

By VARUN Vashist

Eric had lived a nomadic life. He did not know from where he came and who his parents were. Though ,he was raised in a church, he never believed in any teachings. He did all illegal activities. He had no goals in life and hurt anyone who tried to help him. One day he had to pay for his crimes and that day came when he was diagnosed with Tuberculosis. Everyone was happy that he was dying. He was waiting on his deathbed counting his last days when suddenly there was a Divine intervention.

He was not only cured but also given signs that he was destined to do something. He suspected that there was some EVIL force behind that because he had never done any good to any one. But that was not his only fear. He knew that he himself was evil and had he saved someone, he would have made them pay heavily for it.

No body wanted to be associated with him. Still, he had to find the answers to his questions.Instead of finding the answers, he started to find places and people that he had only heard about but never believed. No one had

believed in the stories that started to come true and he was at the center of all. He did not possess the power or the knowledge, but he had to do it.

He met two strangers and started following them in the quest of finding the answers to his questions but got lost in the forest following them.But, all of this seems to be destined as he meets someone who tells him a secret that changes his belief in everything.

His belief is shattered but does he come to know about the reason why he was saved?

Why was he cured? And What does these forces want from him?

• Language: English
• Publisher: VARUN Vashist
• Release date: Jun 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9781501460753

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 1

Sometimes, life takes away more than it gives us back. However, during such times, the biggest thing that life takes away is the belief in oneself. He was also among those less fortunate ones who never appreciated the gifts of life; one for whom hope was just a word that meant nothing. It was not as if he had a long miserable life. He was only in his late–twenties. However, the sadness in his eyes made him look years older. The sadness that came from the fact that life was ending.

He didn’t remember much about his early childhood. Just some flashes, some shadows. There were these haunting images that used to chase him in his dreams. To get away from these nightmares and to fill his loneliness, he resorted to smoking and drinking. As his age increased, so did his drinking and it reached to a point where the only path that he could see was the one that led to death. Slowly, he lost whatever he had and started living on the streets; though there was not much life left to live. Some goodhearted person saw him lying on the streets, begging for death and brought him to the hospital. It took just one look for the doctors to find out what was killing him; tuberculosis had eaten his lungs and his kidneys had also given up. Furthermore, the tests revealed the tuberculosis was in an advanced stage; beyond treatment. Doctors gave him three months to survive. After the diagnosis, he was not allowed to leave the hospital.

*

It had been a month since all this had happened. As the days had passed, the body had become weaker and weaker. His six foot frame had shrunken to half and the blue color of his eyes had been suppressed by the redness surrounding them. Initially, he could walk a little, but now he was not even able to do his daily chores by himself. He started to spend his days sitting near the window looking at passers-by.

Though, he was not alone in the ward; he did not befriend any other patient. Some approached him but were sent back empty handed. Though, he had not developed this loneliness out of his hopeless situation. Throughout his life, he never had any friends, neither wanted any. Anyone who even tried to make friends with him used to become victim of his acerbic tongue.

The only thing that was close to his heart was a small amulet; a piece of stone, kept with him when he was left on the stairs of the Church. He sold anything and everything he ever got his hands on for his smoking and drinking, but couldn’t muster the courage to part with it. Sometimes, he used to wonder whether it carried any deeper meaning, but apart from the flashes in his dreams there was nothing else he felt related to it.

*

As days passed and the end was near, he started to feel much exhausted. The hours of sitting near the window started getting replaced with lying on the bed. His whole life, he had fought hard to sleep and now his body was so tired that it was hard for him to remain awake.

One day, after getting fed-up of lying on the bed all-day, he requested to-be taken outside. There was a large garden near the hospital entrance. He used to see people walking across every day. This was the first time in many days he stepped out of the hospital. The nurse helped him sit on one of the benches. As the wind rustled against his face, he felt a whiff of life. He smirked at the thought and started looking around.

People passed by and looked at him, some with pity while some with disgust. Though, he did not pay heed to any of them. He was busy looking at the shadows getting smaller and smaller as the day progressed and wondered how it symbolized his life. After a while he took out the amulet. He had this habit of flipping the amulet and moving fingers across it whenever he had nothing to do and off late this was happening a lot. He did this for some time and again started looking around. The day was sunny and full of life. He Looked up and kept staring at the sky for some time. Looking at its vastness, he wondered whether he had any significance at all. The universe was so huge and people like him had nothing to offer to the world. Then, why did people like him even exist?

This thought made him remember something. He recalled how once he met a priest on the bus and had asked the same question.

Why do we go through the cycle of birth and death? He had asked.

I sense bitterness in your question, Priest said with a smile.

The priest knew that he wasn’t interested in knowing the philosophy; rather the question stemmed from some resentment, some failure or may be from pure hatred towards humanity, including towards himself.

To quench once thirst, one should first know the thirst one is having, Priest said.

Priest’s answer made him angry. He had always hated people painting a perfect world or having solutions for everyone’s problems. He had looked angrily at the priest and changed his seat immediately.

When his stop came and the priest was about to get down, he came near him and whispered, Everyone has a purpose, Eric.

Priest’s addressing him by name took him by surprise. By the time, he could collect himself, the priest was not in the sight and the bus had started moving. He looked outside, but couldn’t see him anywhere.

With time, he had forgotten about the incident. Suddenly today, thought of his approaching death had brought the memories back. He shrugged his head and started staring at the amulet. The shadows had started to become bigger again and he knew it was the time for his medicine. He tried to call for help, but his feeble voice could not go far. He got scared. Missing the medicine meant return of the pain. Even the thought of the excruciating pain made him shiver. With all the strength left in his body, he tried to get up. As he tried to walk towards the nurse, he noticed something unusual; something amiss. He looked down and could not find his shadow. He turned around; his shadow was still sitting on the bench.

Before he could understand anything, the shadow got up, stopped for a moment, looked at him and ran away. His face turned red in fear. He was too overwhelmed and started feeling heaviness in his head.

*

Next morning as he regained consciousness,