Just Plain Bad Luck

By Vibha Batra

They say, bad luck comes in threes - here it comes in 25 dark, chilling, mind-numbing stories. Our authors come out with stories from the darkest depths of their minds, making you thank your Maker that you are not at the centre of these cursed lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fingerprint Publishing
• Release date: Dec 1, 2010
• ISBN: 9789358561401

Book preview

Foreword

1. You Never Know

2. The Reunion

3. Coffee

4. Transgression

5. Cheese and Butter

6. Frozen

7. The Girl who had Everything

8. I Dream of Death

9. Kim and the Cobra

10. The Believer

11. I Belong

12. The Reunion

13. The Commuter

14. Lazy Sunday

15. Skin Deep

16. My Story

17. Plum Cake

18. The Debauched Braiding of Destiny

19. Radhika and the Pigeon

20. Her Brother, Nikhil

21. Lady Luck

22. The Pink Shirt

23. Divine Justice

24. In Search of a Story

25. The Indispensable Servant

Authors

They say, bad luck comes in threes – here it comes in 25 dark, chilling, mind-numbing stories. Lore and superstition would have you think, bad luck omens were easy enough to spot and, with a bit of caution and contrivance, easy enough to avoid. Well, you couldn’t be more wrong. If you really think bad luck knocks your door because a black cat crossed your path, or you walked unthinkingly under a ladder or probably because of the salt you inadvertently spilt as you seasoned your soup – then you really must think again.

But, it really is not that simple. Life and destiny are a lot more complex than that. We humans are addled by the worst ever luck at the worst ever times. It’s just our lot, and no four leaf clover, or horse-shoe or evil-eye bracelets will make it go away. Even the rabbit’s foot you carry on your person for good luck was such bad luck for the rabbit; the poor thing is dead because of it!

Bad luck will not announce its arrival on Friday, the 13th. It can catch you unawares any given day, and only the victim can feel the excruciating pain. The others will just cluck and say it’s just plain bad luck…

Our authors explore the darkest, gloomiest depths of their minds, and out come stories, which make you thank your Maker that you are not at the centre of these cursed lives.

In here, there is no right path to take and no avoiding misfortunes ordained in your lot. Be careful not to be too optimistic, for that would lead you right into the devil’s lair, where strangers are stranger than fiction and your loved ones could inflict the fiercest of pain.

Sonalini Chaudhry

Editor

It was a dark night. The air was heavy with moisture, and rain threatened to come down any moment. Rima was not too happy to be out on such a night, but her job as a Page 3 reporter meant that she frequently had to do beats of parties which ended late at night. It was much less glamorous than people would have imagined.

Actually, she had wanted to be a crime beat reporter. That job seemed more fascinating to her. It seemed like serious reporting. In college, she had pooh poohed the people who wanted this particular profile. And now, she herself was stuck doing the same thing. As it turned out, it was not easy to land a job as a crime beat reporter. Everyone wanted reporters who were experienced. Well, if you’ve never had a job, how can you get experience!!!

Anyway, Rima was biding her time. She’d mentally given herself three years on the Page 3 beat, before she got down to serious business. But now, after just ten months on the job, she was seriously considering quitting and looking elsewhere. And she’d been following the crime beat pretty closely. For instance, she knew from her research, and from friends in the department, that there was currently a psychopath killer on the loose in the city, who specialized in targeting young women, and then murdered them brutally. In fact, people in the know were calling him ‘The Murder Artiste’ because of the spectacular way their dead bodies were found. The story had not officially been released in targeting young women, and then murdered them brutally. In fact, people in the know were calling him ‘The Murder Artiste’ because of the spectacular way their dead bodies were found. The story had not officially been released in order to ward off a mass scale panic in the city. But there had already been six such deaths, and it wouldn’t be much longer that the news could be hushed up.

Anyway, as of now Rima’s mind was fully occupied by one of the local MLAs. He’d made a complete ass of himself in the party tonight when in a drunken stupor, he’d tried to grab the hostess of the evening, and fallen into the pool. Rima had already wired the story to her editor, and she would upload the evening’s photographs once she reached home.

The streets were deserted as her crew carried on towards the office. Rima was really tired, and just wanted to get home. She walked towards her car and looked for her keys. Suddenly, she felt that she was being watched. Nervously, she looked back, but there was nobody there. She delved back into her bag, but the keys were nowhere to be found.

Suddenly, rain started falling in warm, heavy drops. They were huge, round drops, and coming down in an increasingly thick curtain. Suddenly, the electric transformer sparked and shorted. The entire row of street lights on the block flickered and went out.

Rima was not fanciful by nature, but for the first time that night, she felt uneasy. She thought she heard something across the street and whipped around. But she could not see anything. It was also difficult to see through the rain, which was now pouring down in rushes.

She started looking for her keys frantically now, but they were nowhere to be found. She felt a strange dread growing on her and had an impulse to scream. Suddenly, there was a noise quite close to her. It sounded like someone was walking through the rain stealthily.

Rima did not need any further motivation. She turned around and started running towards the main road. Although it was almost two in the morning, she was sure that once on the main road, she could find a cab to take her home. She would figure out about her car tomorrow, right now, she just wanted to get home.

She ran the hardest that she’d ever run in her life. Now she could definitely hear footsteps following her through the rain. She looked back once, and could make out a hazy figure through the rain, and he was gaining on her. With a supreme effort, she ran harder and reached the corner to the main road. There, the street lamps were working, and things looked normal.

She spied a taxi a little way away from where she’d emerged onto the road, just outside the circle of light thrown by the street lamp. She ran up to it and knocked sharply on the window. The driver awoke from his slumber. He was a little irritated at first, but cheered up soon enough at the prospect of getting a night fare for a long distance.

Rima felt a lot better once inside the taxi. She cursed herself for being so stupid and melodramatic. She was sure there was some perfectly reasonable explanation for the events of the night. It took her almost three quarters of an hour to finally reach home, even though the streets were deserted, because of the heavy rain.

She paid off the taxi and got inside her apartment building. It was all quiet, even the watchman was dozing slightly at the gate. She pushed the elevator button. So late at night, only one out of the six was working. It was another few minutes before she was finally inside her apartment. She was just going to go into the bathroom to change into dry clothes when the doorbell rang.

Rima was a little puzzled. Who could possibly have come so late at night? Unless maybe it was the watchman – maybe she’d dropped something downstairs or something. She peeped through the spy hole, and could only make out somebody’s wet raincoat outside. She opened the door a fraction, and saw a complete stranger standing there. His hair was disheveled and he was soaked through. But she didn’t recognise him at all. For some reason, she felt the cold hand of fear grip her again and she involuntarily screamed.

She tried to bang the door shut, but the man had stuck his foot inside, and it would not shut. Rima was in panic. She went back to the hall and tried the intercom. Meanwhile, the man was trying to say something, but Rima was too panicked to listen to him. She called security on the intercom and the watchman picked up. She babbled incoherently, and was still on the line when the man came behind her and put the receiver down.

He turned her towards him and placed a finger on her lips to calm her down. Rima was petrified. His eyes looked like a madman’s and he had a thin scar running from his left eye all the way down his cheek. It was then that he held something up in front of her eyes. At first Rima could not make out what it was, then she finally focused and saw that he was holding her car keys in his hand.

Suddenly, her panic subsided and realisation dawned upon her. She stopped mid-scream, and looked at the guy. With the hood of his raincoat off, he did not seem so threatening any longer.

I got these close to your car, and was trying to return them to you when I realized that they were yours. But you ran away from there. I had to follow you all the way here on my bike through the rain. His voice was calm and soothing, and Rima relaxed a bit.

She took the keys from him, and was now acutely embarrassed by her behaviour. Some crime reporter she would make!

Just then, there was violent knocking at the door. She hurried to it and opened. It was the watchman. He’d become worried about her after her call and come to check on her. Rima apologized to him and said that it had been a misunderstanding, and that she was fine now. He looked at her suspiciously and then went back down.

She turned back to the man, who was still standing near the intercom, water pooling onto the floor from his wet clothes.

I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m really embarrassed. Thank you so much for taking the trouble to help me. Rima was quite self-conscious. The man’s gaze seemed to pierce through her, and she began to wish that he