The Mysterious Killer (1135 words)

 

Siddarth (briefly Siddhu) had nothing with him when he was thrown out of his room except for odd personal things in a worn-out cloth bag. He had not paid the room rent for six months. It was not that he wanted to deceive the landlord, but he had no income when his company folded up one day without notice, rendering him jobless. His immediate concern was to find a place for the night. He had, luckily, a few hundred hidden in his undergarments that would see him through for a few days.

He walked the whole day on the streets of the small town looking for a place to stay. In a few places, they had a room to let out but insisted on a downright advance of a few thousand rupees. As he was losing hope with only the town bus stand as the possible alternative, he saw a To Let board hanging on the gate of an old house. It was virtually on the thinly populated outskirts of the town. He opened the creaking gate to find the front lawn in total neglect, with weeds all over and dead leaves from the overhead trees strewn all over. There was little evidence of habitation. Nevertheless, he went in and pressed the bell. When there was no response, he knocked on the door hard. He peeped through a window to find the interior also unclean, with no evidence of inmates. When he was about to give up and turn back, he heard the sound of the door being opened.

An old man in a long white robe that almost covered his legs appeared. He had a pale face, a long white beard and an age that could not be guessed. His eyes, though sunk deep, seemed sharp of seeing through one’s body, sent shivers to Siddhu. He was not invited inside.

” What do you want, young man’ the old man asked in a squeaky tone that was almost a whisper.
“I saw the to let sign. I need a room immediately,” Siddhu said
“Have a look at the outhouse, but tell me beforehand whether you are single. The place is not available for those who bring girls for the night”

“That is ok. I am single and have no girlfriend, though I don’t see any reason for this condition. Can we see the place?” Siddhu asked

The old man gave him the key to the outhouse. “You go and have a look. It may be dark because of trees hiding the sunlight. You can switch on the light,” He added with a laugh that was scary from his toothless mouth “Remember no girls.”

The outhouse, consisting of a big room, a kitchenette and a toilet, looked as dirty as the main house. It was dark, and he switched on the only light that was not bright. He found a broom in the corner and cleaned the place. The cot had a mattress but no sheets. It didn’t matter to him. He decided to take it, although he was not comfortable with the spooky ambience. Maybe in daytime things may appear different, he thought to himself.

When he went to the main house, the old man was not seen. The door was closed. All lights were switched off. He knocked several times, but there was no response. He was tired from the walk all day long, and his limbs begged him for rest. He went back and hit the bed. He was dead tired and fell asleep soon

Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled, slow and hollow, twelve times.

Siddhu woke with a violent jolt. His throat was dry, his heart hammering as though it had been running before his body had stirred. The darkness in the room felt thicker than before, almost tangible. He lay still, listening. Then he heard it.

A soft rustle from the kitchenette.

He strained his ears. The door was locked. He clearly remembered bolting it. It must be rats, he told himself, though the sound was too measured, too deliberate. Slowly, he sat up.

That was when something brushed past him, cold and weightless. And then—the unmistakable fragrance of fresh jasmine flowers, heavy and suffocating. Panic surged through him. He leapt from the cot and fumbled for the switch. His fingers trembled as he flicked it on. Nothing happened. He tried again. And again. The bulb remained dead, swallowed by darkness.

Suddenly, icy fingers closed around his neck.

Siddhu tried to scream, but no sound escaped his mouth. His lungs burned as the grip tightened. He could feel breath against his ear, soft, almost tender—and the jasmine scent grew overpowering. In his fading consciousness, a whisper drifted through the silence, not cruel but heartbreakingly sad.

“No more lies…” The world went black.

Morning broke with an uneasy stillness.

A small crowd had gathered outside the old house, men and women standing well away from the rusted gate, murmuring among themselves. Two policemen stood near the outhouse. An ambulance was parked close by, its doors open.

A man with a squint leaned toward the listeners and said in a low voice, “This is the second unnatural death in this house. The first one happened six months ago.”

Questions flew at him.

“Was it murder?”

“Who owns the place?”

“Does anyone even live here?”

The man shook his head slowly. “An old man lived here once, with his daughter. The outhouse was rented to a young man she fell in love with. He promised her marriage. Swore he would never betray her.”

He paused, letting the words sink in.

“When she returned early from a trip, she found him with another woman. She took her life within two weeks. She was pregnant. A month later, the young man was found dead in the same outhouse. No injuries. No explanation.”

A shiver passed through the listeners.

“And the old man?” someone asked.

“No one knows,” the squint-eyed man replied. “After his daughter’s death, he was said to have lost his mind. He would ask every young man who came for the room only one thing, whether he had a girlfriend. People say he hated men who lied to women. I haven’t seen him in years.”

One of the policemen emerged from the outhouse, pale and unsettled.

“There’s something strange,” he said quietly. “No sign of struggle. But there are fresh jasmine flowers near the bed. And the bulb… it works perfectly.”

As the crowd slowly dispersed, a faint breeze stirred the weeds in the neglected lawn. For a brief moment, someone thought they saw an old man standing behind the main house window, watching with his eyes sharp, his lips curved into a thin, satisfied smile.

Then the curtain fell.

And the house stood silent once more.