Lights. Camera. RCNM.

“It’s of no use, Michael,” said the usual pessimistic voice of my assistant manager. “The company – it’s in losses. We have to close down.” Alas, his words fell upon deaf ears. My body was shutting down. Starting a company at the ripe age of twenty five only to have it close down a year later was too much for my ambitious heart to take. I simply nodded at the balding man across me. I had failed my company. I had failed my colleagues. I had failed myself. Thoughts of desperation whirled through my mind. The next few moments were a blur. Before I knew what I was doing, my legs took me to the exit of the office building and I soon found myself walking towards the Golden Gate Bridge. The chilled San Francisco wind sent shivers down my spine, but I kept walking, as if in a trance. You’re a waste of opportunity. You don’t deserve to be a leader. All you do is mess things up. Maybe. But maybe, if I were given a second chance, I could make things right. If only I were a be...

Inspector Edmund Reid Whitechapel H division, Metropolitan police, London. November 9th 1888. My Dear friend Edmund, I’m pleased to inform you that I have come to a decision. We shallplay a little game. I fully intend to make this a mutually beneficial arrangement. If you win, which you sir, shall surely not, I will confess to you all my crimes. However if I win, which I surely shall, I want immunity.  This day, the 9th of November 1888, I shall be committing my 5th and last murder. I intend to murder yet another woman, a certain Mary Jane Kelly.  She too like my other victims commits sacrilege on a daily basis, pollutes the very institution of marriage. I shall educate her. I shall wash her sins away in her own warm blood. To make this little game of ours more interesting for me, I shall not change my modus operandi.  I searched for this consummate fool of a woman in many of the shady back alleys of London. And being an arrant flirt as I am,...

That morning I was over the top, visiting my family after a whole year of hard work. Just holding the glistening boarding pass in my hands, among my fingers gave me a strange sense of satisfaction. “Oceanic 815” it said “From New York to Los Angeles”. Who would have thought that something so joyous would turn into something so perilous? Before I knew it we hit turbulence... And suddenly everything seemed hazy. Darkness hovered over my eyes. The last thing I can vaguely remember was the pilot trying to comfort his passengers by saying that the aviation control crew was trying its best to rescue us. All I remember after that was a ‘thud’ that marked our crash landing and that I lay unconscious. I finally woke up after…was it hours? Days? Months perhaps? I did not know and there was no way to find out. As I picked myself up and the vision cleared a tad the sight made me wish that I had never woken up. All I could see around me was sheer destruction. A hundred and eighty voya...

“Snap!” It was the only sound heard on that deserted road as I stepped on the twig fallen on the road. Paying no attention to it, I began running again. Did I mention that I was running late for work at 10 PM in the night? Only my erratic and unpredictable boss could keep a meeting at a time like that. And as usual, I missed the bus so I had no option but to walk. Finally I stopped outside the entrance of a graveyard. I don’t believe in ghosts or supernatural creatures, but the thought of running through a graveyard at night still made me hesitant. I knew I had no choice as it was the only shortcut to my workplace. I took a deep breath and entered the graveyard. The place’s eeriness was increased by the presence of branches of the trees rising like dying arms, with the full moon covered by a dark cloud like shroud. The signs of Christ seemed almost alive and there was no sound heard except heavy breathing. Just when I thought it couldn’t get scarier, “i...

The orange of the setting sun dazzled scintillatingly against the white of the icy slopes. The glacial breeze howled against the thick canvas of the tent. The ink in Ethan's pen had long since frozen. He took a pencil and began to write in his travel diary: Day 40 "What a long day! I'm too tired to write about today in detail and in any case, James is insisting on setting out before dawn so I should sleep now. If all goes smoothly, tomorrow I shall finally reach the top of the world. Mom and Dad, at last, I shall fulfill your dream. Just one more day, and I will have conquered Everest!" He stowed away the diary and wished James a good night. James, the guide, who hadn't removed the balaclava off his face since they had met, responded with his customary grunt - he never spoke unless it was absolutely imperative.  20 minutes later, Ethan was fast asleep - snoring weakly in the thin air. Stealthily, James fetched the diary and, in the waning...

ROSE Sweat dripped off her forehead, some seeped into her eyes making them sting sharply. She stumbled helplessly over fallen branches which snapped harshly beneath her bare feet. The pale moonlight lit up the forest floor but only enough for her to see a few meters ahead of her. "Rose" A cold gust of wind made her turn around to see where the voice had come from."Rose!" A voice shrieked in the distance. ‘Aunt Iris!'' Rose shouted but she produced no sound. Suddenly a hand peeled around the trunk of the tree. Rose watched in horror as a tall man slowly made his way around the tree and into her line of vision. His face was hidden by a dark shadow. "Run!'' She jumped at her Aunt's shriek. The man began to take a few steps towards her."Rose" Her Aunt's voice seemed closer this time and Rose quickly looked past the man to see if she could see her. The man looked up at her and the shadow slowly faded away from his face...

                     I woke up to find myself in a room with grey walls on all four sides, the room seemed to have no exit whatsoever… It was very poorly equipped, with just a bed, a mirror and a lavatory. I got up from the extremely uncomfortable bed and headed towards the mirror. The mirror reflected back an image of a girl who looked malnourished and had no hair on her head, just a scalp that was filled with scars. The eyes of this girl looked dull. “Is this me?” I thought to myself and ran my hand across my scalp. The scars hurt very badly and I found myself asking questions like “Who am I? What is my name?  Why am I in this place?” At this precise moment a man entered my room. He was wearing a white suit and seemed friendly and trustworthy. The man came near me, bent down and held my hand. The warmth of his hand was comforting, almost like a hearth. The man then looked at me and said “Don’t worry, I’m here to...

Do you know what it is you feel when you find yourself in danger?  Do you know what it is when you do not want to let someone you love out of your sight; the persistent force that propels you to act recklessly when your life steers out of your control? It is Fear.  The four-lettered demon, which sells your sanity when you are not able to escape a locked door in an alien room, is fear. The emotion that you are compelled to feel in a fight or flight situation. It ensnarls you in its paws, so much so that you eventually start taking refuge in it. A shrink would probably tell you that your fear is just a mental state and that you are the only one who can fight it and all that jazz.  Your love is what actually triggers fear. Your attachment to your life, your devotion towards your loved one, the rush and insecurity you get with the knowledge that there’s someone waiting for you to go back to them, is what triggers fear. It hardly matters if you feel it and yo...