By Neel Anil Panicker

‘Don’t worry about me. I am just stepping out for a while. That were his last words before he left the house. It’s been five hours since and he’s not returned. Go, do something, find him. I want my son back…I’

Dharma turned away and left the room. Kanakamma was turning hysterical.  Couldn’t blame her. Anyone. Who wouldn’t be if her 16 year old only child hasn’t returned home and it is an hour past midnight. He had to do something, get their son back fast otherwise  he would never ever be able to forgive himself.

He stepped out of their thatched hut. On the  way he picked up Rudraswami, the village occult. A ten minute brisk walk later, he along with Swami stood outside, at the rim of of the forest.

He adjusted the flash of his torch and pointed it forward, towards the impervious wall of nothingness that stared back at him.

As a child Dharma had heard stories…tales about young boys and girls disappearing into the forest, never ever to be seen again.

Since then the woods were a no no man’s land, strictly off limits for everyone.

None ventured into it, even during the day.

‘Don’t worry and follow me.’  commanded Rudraswami.

In no time the duo were deep in the forest, the blood curdling shrieks of wild animals ringing their ears sending slivers of fear run down their spines.

Fearful, his heart beats racing uncontrollably, Dharma felt he may die of fright any moment. How could his son ever have ventured into into such a deathly place, he wondered.

‘Look, there’s something’, Rudraswami’s voice pierced through the night air, echoing all over.

Stung by the words, Dharma peered his head down at the light that shone on the ground.

There, right in front of their feet, lay scattered over a small mound, an animal’s, possibly a wild boar’s entrails, blood splattered all over, half burnt bones and skin lying all around. A few porcupine quills, blood still dripping off them, a packet of incense sticks, some camphor and a transparent purple coloured bottle lay beside, all adding to the macabre sight.

Dharma half puked at the gory sight.

Rudraswami caught him by the arm and pronounced, ‘It’s the pirates. They come here once a year. Hide all their loot here. They are known to practice some bizarre form of occult.  Also indulge in human sacrifices. I just hope…’

The words were a trail. Dharma felt his knees giving way as his body drained of all blood. The next moment he had fallen onto the ground. The last words that escaped his mouth were a torturous spine chilling cry…’Lord Murugaaaa…please save my son’.

#Timetowrite #FOWC #3TC #FLASH #fiction #sentencestarter #shortstory #flashfiction #450words #PIRATE #NIGHT #PORCUPINE #FORGIVE

FOWC with Fandango — Forgive


1 thought on “neelwriotes/FOWC/3TC/05/01/2019

  1. Very interesting! Thanks for sharing this.


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