The old dock

The sky above the port was the colour of television, tuned to a dead channel. The ships looked vast and bizarre creatures descended from hell in the night of new moon. And the water was still, dark and mysterious, till it’s deep. The December fog had rapped everything under its cover giving it a deserted and wraith-like environment. And in the midst of all these, a dark red figurine stood about fifty yards away…must be made for the occasions with straw and mud, remained bent and rusty from the salted sea air.

“She’ll definitely come” I muttered.

The fact that a girl was murdered at this very place five years ago didn’t shake me much. In fact the Police tried to convince me not to pass the night in the deserted old dock. “Don’t you remember what had happened there?” “I do, and that’s why I want to go back.” I answered.


The distant railway station marked its presence by the whistle of the last local returning to the countryside place. The scent of chhatim flowers kept coming from the abandoned place nearby, and suddenly the dogs started howling from the railway-side graveyard.

I observed the figurine again. It’s unusual both in colour and form.

“She’ll have to come tonight.” I muttered again.


It was known to no one that I killed her, save only for me and the police, whom I bribed for some portion of my property…Being a famous writer I could not let her say that all the writings of mine are taken from the girl’s diary…which she sent me over a year ago from the happening stating whether any of them could be published so that she gets something to live on.

A narrow ray of light piercing the curtains of darkness fell on the figurine. Must be a patrol boat, I thought. This confirms it’s one o’ clock now.

Hasn’t the figurine changed its shape?

Isn’t that the purple salwar Police found with the girl’s body?

When was the last time a figurine walked by itself?

The crooked and strewed figure has taken a discrete shape of a girl…who is now coming towards me. And even in the moonless night, I could say that this was the girl I murdered five years ago.

“Come with me.”

Spellbound, I followed her. She took me to the edge of the railings and looked at my face.

The patrol boat returned again. And in the middle of light and the darkness, I looked at her.

The last thing I saw before I fell from the railings was her white face, pale like paper and flat. No eyes, no nose and no mouth… just a white curtain of skin.



I woke up from the nightmare and kept shivering in the dark, sweating profusely, having all my hairs stood from their root. I found myself still sitting at the port, with the figurine about fifty yards away.

The last local whistled and the graveyard suddenly boasted the dogs’ howling.

And in the midst of nowhere a patrol boat’s light piercing the darkness of the night fell on the figurine.






- August '10


(SENT FOR THE TIMES OF INDIA SPELLBOUND COMPETITION 2010)