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1st August 2001 - Page 2


It was a cold, damp night. The moon was hidden behind the clouds. Hooting owls played an accompaniment to the crescendo worked up by the howling winds. The tiny town of Lamar Ville slept silently, oblivious of the happenings outside. Except for one living being…
He was youthful and strapping- an impressive figure. The wind blew his long hair across his face. He stole a glance at the clock tower. It showed four-o’-clock… one and a half hours more to go…
He pushed his hair back and lit a Cuban cigar-he smoked only the best. It was put out by the wind. He tried once again only to be foiled once more. Finally giving up, he put the cigar case and lighter back into his coat pocket.
He moved stealthily at night although by day he was well known and well respected by virtue of being from one of the oldest and richest families in Ireland. He, however, had a terrible secret, even a word of which would destroy him for for ever. He would become an outcast, an untouchable. People would flee on seeing his shadow; children would cower in fear lest he harm them.

He shuddered slightly, partly because it was so cold and partly because he felt sorry for himself. However, the curse would end, as this would be the last one. Although he was doomed and knew it, he felt strangely happy. He felt relieved. He would soon be free… 
He walked along the road looking for the right house. He soon found it. He picked the lock deftly in a matter of minutes. He took an hour or so inside. Satiated, he walked back in absolute silence. The wind had died down but it had only got colder. He was let in by his butler who didn't even blink on seeing the blood on his coat. He lumbered up to his room and dropped off to sleep.
The next day's newspaper rocked the sleepy little town. The front page read-


"Mr. Richards, world-renowned millionaire and one of the most well known and respected persons of our town committed suicide this morning at around five o' clock. The police suspect no foul play although there is no apparent motive for Mr. Richards to have killed himself

However, tucked away in a corner of page 12 next to the 'Classifieds' was a tiny article about the death of an unidentified young girl who died under mysterious circumstances the same morning. The case was being currently investigated but the thing that was puzzling the police the most was that according to the autopsy she bled to death through two tiny puncture wounds on her neck.

The butler smiled knowingly…

Dhananjaya Chak


I wish it always rained non-stop,
Or I had a bottle of soda-pop.
I wish I had an ice-cream bar,
Or an airconditioned car.
I wish I were swimming in the sea,
Or an igloo was sitting on top of me.
I wish the vacations were three months long
Or I was sitting in a cup of cold coffee strong.
Some wishes never come true for you,
But my summer delights always do.

Pranav Pant 

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