Friday, February 22, 2019
The Mysterious Old Man – Creative Writing
He came like the wind, as it from nowhere. As the gently wind ruffles the placid surface of a passive pond, his visit ca usance small ripples on the smooth surface of the peaceful animation that prevailed in our small village. At that time none of us had the foggiest subject of the shape of things to come.Perched on the sea- facing slope of a hill that forms take time off of a mountain rampart along the seaboard, our village was a undefiled thrown for anyone who hated modern civilization. It took a half solar days walk by a footpath to the hot town. The march of time has left us behind by a decade. In a way we were able that the wind of change did not blow in our village. We are at ease with life as it is, for it is genuinely much the homogeneous as it employ to be for centuries. Our village folks were mostly fisher valet and peasants.The fertile take down and the bounteous sea were movementually generous towards us in their gifts. in that location was a village shop keeper whos name was Ahmed, who used to consume us a couple of(prenominal) things we needed from the tabooside world. Visitors from the outside world were fewerer and far between who would care to visit much(prenominal) a untamed place? When occasional visitors came, they inevitably arouse our suspicion and so it was when this funny came.To be frank, there was null strange about him. still to the bare(a) folks of our village anyone from the outside world was strange and mysterious. So from the very beginning, we looked upon him with suspicion. He was first disclosen at Ahmeds shop. Aseem, the coffee shop attendant approached him to fill him what he wanted. Taking his seat, the quaint placed his canvas bag on a table and ordered a cup of coffee. Aseem brought the coffee eyepatch mopping the table, he lifted the canvas bag and placed it on a chair. Two blood-shot eyes that seemed to see with ever soything transfixed Aseem. My bag, muttered the stranger curtly, will r emain where I placed it. No one shall colligate it.Aseem just managed to mumble something apologetically. He placed the bag where it was. The stranger sit there, sipping the coffee and puffing a cigar. There were only a few people in the coffee shop then. They all glanced at him through he corners of their eyes as if they did not want him to know that he was being watched. None dared to approach him. They whispered comments it was certain that the stranger had steamy their curiosity. Meanwhile the stranger sat there, as if he was in a deep though, eyes distant. He was about sixty, lanky of frame with a droop at the shoulders. Having paid for his drink, the stranger went along the foot-path that led towards the nearest town. Those who saw him leaving hoped that they would see no more of him in our village.They were turn up wrong he was there again on the next day and the next. He frequented Aseems coffee shop meanwhile news of the stranger count on prominently in the gossip of o ur village. They all had something to say about him. But opinion varied as to whether his frequent visits were a good herald of bad. Elderly people like Mr. Tan and ageing Haji were decidedly against it, for such strange visitors often bring some mis risk with them, they argued.It was sincerely startling news to us when we heard that the superannuated man had rented out a room in Madam Hos house. Madame Ho was a leave her only son, Chen, the village carpenter went to town in search of work. The old woman was living alone in a three-roomed house. We were a pungency puzzled when we heard that the old man was going to stay among us. judicial decision you, it was not because we had anything against the stranger- it was simply because it meant some change, at least and we were not used to changes.Days rolled by and once again life in our village returned to normal. As eventless days passed by, life continued to flow with that same unruffled placid quietude, provided we did not k now that it was the calm in the beginning the storm we did not realize that we were sitting on a sleeping volcano.The stranger seldom spoke to any of us. A man of few words, he seemed to move in a plane entirely antithetical from ours. We suspected that there was something shady about him. For one thing, he was very secretive. We knew very little about his movements not that we cared about it, but how would you incur about a fellow who lived by your side and of whom you knew next to nothing? He used to go out early in the cockcrow no one knew where to. At sunset, he was back, none knew from where. Like a frightened rabbit, he would look furtively at anyone who was near him and porta off from company.A fortnight or so later, two strangers called at Ahmeds shop. They wanted to see a friend of theirs. The description they gave of their friend fitted the old man exactly. Ahmed showed them Madam Hos house and told them their friend was staying there. But its no use going there now h e has gone out, Ahmed informed them. This seemed to play the strangers. Well come tomorrow we know hell wait for us, they said and departed. They were lying they came to see him that night itself.The next morning our village awoke to witness the bloodiest scene we had ever seen. Murder was committed in Madam Hos house. The mysterious old man lay in a pool of blood. A ten atomic number 49 dagger, plunged into his chest, had skewered him to the floor.Utter panic gripped the whole village. Fear and consternation could be seen on every face. Ahmed alone had a head cool enough to act wisely. Having instructed the curious crowd to keep clear away from the dead body, he sent his boy, Sam to the Police Station in the nearest town, but before San reached there, the police were already on the scene. They had caught the scent of the finish off someway or other. The Inspector in charge of the police surveyed the scene of murder with an experts glance and asked, Didnt he have any personal b elongings such as a bag or a box?Yes, he used to carry such a canvas bag, volunteered Ahmed. It is missing, but I didnt expect to find it. There is a reward of $5000 for this rascal. Murder was his business. He is the third of the notorious Five Diamonds to meet with his end. Now, the remaining two who have got away, will slit each others throat for that canvas bag. It contained a fortune in diamonds and precious stones.