The short, stout and tonsure headed Prasath walked into his ten by ten recording room. He adjusted the position of the high definition Canon camera that stood on a wooden table to precisely focus the green mat that covered the room's entire west side wall. He pressed the record button, positioned himself and started presenting his movie review.

'Hello viewers, today, as all of you knew, I am going to review the film, "Sariyaana Santharppam" starring Rajini Hassan...'

The doorbell buzzed with the squawks of parrot.

'Shit..' Prasath expressed his annoyance by the hinderer. 'Yes, coming. Wait a minute.'

Prasath pulled of his microphone clipped on his shirt. The doorbell buzzed again.

'Yes, I am coming.'

And there was the third doorbell. The visitor seemed impatient. Prasath strode to answer and pulled the door open.

'Yeah, who is it?'

There was no one on the front porch.

'Hello? Who is it?'

Still no answer.

'Huh!?'

Confused, Prasath stepped outside and scanned the front yard.

'Is someone there? Hello?'

Nothing!! Then all of sudden there was sound of glass shattering from the back yard. Prasath jerked in surprise.

'What the heck is happening?'

He ran to back yard carrying his obesity to investigate. There was no signs of any human movement yet. Prasath’s eyes widened as he noticed something. The glasses of his bathroom window had been smashed. He was starting to feel more twitchy.

'Who the hell is it?' he called out anxiously. 'Just come out man. I will damn kill you if I catch you dude.'

Still just the silence prevailed. It annoyed Prasath. He walked around the entire yard of the house again scanning for signs of his window breaker. He peeped out and checked on either side of the street. It was just the silent road with a couple of lonely street lights on either side. Cautiously, he plodded back into the house.

Prasath was breathing fast. He rushed into his bathroom to look at the shattered glass. The offending stone sat amidst the shards of destruction on his tile floor.

Confused still, he moved to his kitchen and gulped some water. He guessed that one of his ill wishers had done this to express hate.

Prasath's sight fell on his recording room door. It was shut. But Prasath had left it ajar. He slowly walked towards his recording room and pushed open the door. The lights were switched off. Prasath knew he hadn't switched them off. He entered the room nervously and turned on the light.

Gosh!! He was shocked. Someone sat crouched behind the door.

'Who the hell are you?' shouted Prasath as he took a step aback in reflex. But the man pulled Prasath’s legs making him fall on the floor.

As the man got up on his foot, Prasath saw a complete black attire clinging on his body. A balaclava, a t-shirt, pants, boots all in black. The man started kicking Prasath right on his face as he was struggling to get up with his stout body.

'Ahhhh!!' Prasath screamed in pain, 'Who are you? Why are you doing this?'

The man seemed uninterested and continued to kick. Prasath grabbed his kicking leg making the man loose his balance. Standing imbalanced on one leg, the man pulled out a knife from his pocket and cut Prasath’s hands. Prasath took off his hands from the man’s leg. He was bleeding. The guy in black attire slit multiple times on Prasath’s face causing him to shout in pain. Prasath knew that his screams will not travel past this soundproofed studio. He was helpless.

The intruder stared into Prasath’s eyes and a psychotic laugh fell out from his mouth. Then he landed one slit across Prasath’s throat and sat on the floor in front of the dying Prasath and enjoyed Prasath go lifeless.







© abdulrahmanwriter
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