“Mom, I am leaving for office!” Rohan was getting late and he meant to let his mother know about it.
“Rohan, wait!” Savita, Rohan’s mother seemed concerned.
‘Mothers!’ Rohan sighed to himself. His sigh was loud enough to fall into Savita’s ears.
“What did you say?” Savita frowned at this gesture of his son.
“Nothing Mom, what were you saying?”
“Son, Have you been reading newspapers lately? There is this person who kidnaps strangers and kills them. Recently, they have come to know that he introduces himself as a writer, after which he asks them to accompany him to a nearby store to show his pieces of work. He then takes them to a secluded place, which is unknown to anyone yet and then kills them cold-blooded.”
“Mom, do you believe all this stuff? Tell me a thing - Are the victims foolish enough to accompany a stranger to a secluded place? Those are just rumors!”
“I don’t know, but probably he would be hypnotizing the victims, after which they can’t do much but to follow him.”
“Do you hear yourself mom? You sound crazy.” Rohan laughed out loud.
“Son, I am just concerned, because this is happening in the route which you take to go to your office. Be careful son!”
“Mom, I can’t listen to this anymore, This is outrageous.” Rohan couldn’t stop laughing. “These are nothing but rumors spread out by the newspapers so that they can increase their sales. Moreover, I am getting late now. Bye.”
“Be careful son.” Savita mumbled to herself. She could feel that something wrong was going to happen.
Rohan was running hard to catch his train. He finally couldn’t keep up with the speed of the train and had to let it go. He bent down, holding his knees and gasped for breath. He looked at his watch. His next train was not before another half-an-hour. He sat down on a nearby bench and waited.
“Hello. I can see that you missed your train.” The person sitting beside him on the bench greeted Rohan. He looked at him. He seemed to be in his mid-30s.
“Yeah. Bad luck I guess.” Rohan replied. He was still catching his breath.
“Do you believe in luck Mr…?”
“Rohan, I am Rohan Sharma.”
“OK Mr. Sharma, I am Mahesh Gupte. So, do you believe in luck?”
“Not really, that was just a way of blaming luck rather than myself for losing my train.”
“By the way, I am a writer.” The stranger said.
“That’s great! Which are the books you have authored till now?”
“The Stoneman, Almost Dead and a few others. Almost Dead is one of my best works and you must read it.”
“I sure will. Do you have a copy?”
“I don’t have it right now, but I could give you a signed copy, if you could accompany me to a nearby store please.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t want to sound rude, but I can’t come with you right now. I have a train to catch in the next 20-25 mins.”
“That’s all right. If you don’t mind, I can drive you to your office after I give you a copy from the store.”
“But may I ask you, why would you do that?” Rohan had doubts in his mind.
“Marketing, my friend. I am not a very known author, but if you read my book and like it, you probably would spread a good word-to-mouth publicity!”
“That makes sense! Let’s go then.”
They walked towards the car. As soon as they reached it, Rohan felt a hand from behind, on his face and before he could make out that the person was holding a piece of cloth with chloroform in it, he fainted.
Rohan opened his eyes. He looked around. He was in a place, which looked like an underground basement. He was lying on the ground, his hands and legs tied. The person who had brought him there was standing right in front of him.
“Good Afternoon Mr. Rohan. Hope you remember me.”
“Who are you?”
“You don’t read newspapers much. Do you? There is a serial killer on the loose and people still fall prey to such lies!”
“I don’t believe you. You can’t be the serial killer.”
“Well, the fact that you believe it or not, how does that matter to me? If you want to stay alive, give me all the money that you have and I’ll set you free.”
“You can’t be the serial killer. You can’t be.” Rohan continued to murmur.
The person charged towards Rohan and held his face in a threatening way.
“Shut up, or I’ll kill you right away. I said, give me all the money that you have, in your bank accounts, and whatever you have with you. You don’t want to mess with me.”
In a flash, Rohan slit his throat with a blade he had in his hands – the same blade with which he had freed his hands from the knot. The person lay there, holding his throat, blood gushing out from it. Rohan freed his legs as well and then came near the person.
“I told you, you can’t be the serial killer. It’s me Mr. Gupte!” Rohan said calmly.
The next day, at the breakfast table, as they were watching the TV, Rohan’s mother saw the news and almost shouted on top of her voice, “Rohan, watch the news. A dead body was found a few kms away from the station that you board your train from. They say that the serial killer did it. The one who introduces himself as a writer?”
“Come on Mom! Those are rumors. You don’t need to believe them. TRUST ME.” He winked at his mother.
