THE WRAITH, by Anupam Sharma

It was bucketing down in 13 crosstown as blignaut with only $50 in his pocket is stuck in a morass at the end of the town leaving for the big city Tacorn. His grandmother was living alone in a posh home in Tacorn. She was 70 but more active than many women of her age and meticulous too. It wasn’t easy to befool her.

Blignaut’s jeep was making a squelching noise and his feet were slipping trying to push the jeep out of the mire.

He has been thinking how after committing the murder he had talked his grandmother into giving him refuge from the “stalkers” who were after him trying to usurp the secret formula he had got.

13 cross-town always had this creepy and gloomy about it with the thick forest cover around and rustling of the leaves perennially. But tonight it was even spookier and blignaut’s heart skipped a beat with fear his in heart and worry written all over his face.
There was different nimbus about the place tonight.

No animal noises, no footfalls just the blustery wind and patting of rain giving rise to sort of deafening silence, good enough to make a native think twice before treading the path. But Blignaut had no option because death was staring him in the face. As Blignaut looked back he had choice, the haven was 50 miles away and he was fugitive panting and somehow thinking on what could be his last night.

As he tried to take the jeep out of boggy ground he saw a figure moving close to him at a brisk pace. Could it be a native or could it be police as those thoughts ran through his mind he drew his hands closer to his pocket which had a .64 bore pistol. He certainly didn’t want to commit one more crime.

“Should I run or wait” Blignaut thought of what seemed like eternity, with no apparent answer. As the thoughts engulfed his mind the footfalls grew louder and louder. It was time to take decision.

TO BE CONTINUED…