Friday

A Train Accident

The morning was an hour old, and the smell of his bathing soap still fresh on his skin, Hurriedly he had his breakfast of boiled cabbage and wheat dough to rush out of the door into the cold swirling morning breeze. His laptop case dangled about his hips as it hung form a strap on his left shoulder. His shoes clicking away into the cold unfeeling air of the hour young morn. The alley was flanked on the left by a series of apartments with a similar story to tell. All had the dim light , all had a breakfast somewhere in the corner of their yawning cavities and all had a watch that ticked away mockingly into the morning.

One house however, was different, Its walls, as one could see through the large window, were smeared with blood, and the table had a butchers knife on it, no breakfast, only the knife, red with the blood on the wall. Somewhere nearby at the foot of the red wall was a little finger and on the clothes line on the window sill was the news paper for the day. The yellow lamp on the table was flickering, sobs emanated from somewhere within the yawn.

He went clicking his shoes into the morning, into his office. His assignment was due and complete. The project was coming up next week, he had plans for a holiday the week after that. At lunch he told his colleagues about the incident and they shrugged. The evening tea had forgotten about it, and the longing for his abode grew strong.

Tired and high on coffee he made his way back to his alley, the apartments were on his right this time and the bloody apartment of the morning was missing, he underwent an involuntary quiver and pressed the door bell. His wife opened the door for him, walking in he saw the walls had wall-paper on them.
"Why the new wall paper honey?"
"It's better that way darling, if it gets dirty, we'll just strip it and put a new one".

8 comments:

varada said...

Is it based on an actual incident or is it your imagination.
Quite ghastly.Well written post Sagar

Sagar said...

Varada~ After 5 years of suburban train travel, one need not use one's imaginations to write this.

Chit said...

I liked it, especially the start. Can I ask what actually happened? I got a bit confused. Or was that your intention?

Sagar said...

This is what happens with every accident, this is not a desctiption of a particular accident but of the many accidents i have seen and heard of.

Chit said...

What i meant was, what was the accident, exactly?

Sagar said...

Chit~ Oh well, I was thinking of a fall from a running train when I wrote this. People who have proper houses to live generally meet with such accidents because they hang out on the doors.

People from the slums near the rail tracks die because they come in the way of running trains.

dhun said...

Um...you've seen something like this?? I didn't know five years of train travel was that gruesome!

Sagar said...

Dhun~It is

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