Short Story Paranormal Activity – The Diary
Photo credit: mxruben from morguefile.com
“The house is badly burnt, sir. I doubt you would find anything substantial in it,” said Rita Shannon as she critically looked at the modest two-storied bungalow in front of them.
Detective Nikhil Shekhawat couldn’t agree more. The fire was sudden in its wake, and equally sudden in its burning out. As the forensics continued to search for clues, he felt that there would hardly be any indication as to how the fire started in the first place.
Rita and Nikhil had been working together for almost a year now, the former proving to be an efficient addition to the detective department. Her sharp eye for detail rarely missed a clue though her dry disposition towards people left a lot to be desired where her social skills were concerned.
She was short and slightly plump with horn-rimmed glasses perched up her nose, framing her intelligent onyx eyes. Her short black hair was always held at the nape of her neck in a tight bun which, the others often joked, never knew the luxury of “letting the hair down”.
Nikhil Shekhawat, on the other hand was tall and broad-shouldered, his athletic physique marred by the slight paunch of his belly. His weathered face and sharp brown eyes told people that “he had been there and done that.”
A young man clad in the protective suit of the forensics department hurried up to him.
“Sir, we found this diary next to the dead girl’s body. We have taken the photographs and fingerprints from it…you can check it through,” he said, handing over to Nikhil a small, pinkish coloured diary.
“All right, I will check this through,” he replied, taking the diary and looking over it.
The forensics official nodded before scurrying off.
“A diary? How come it didn’t burn up?” Rita wondered out loud.
“Dunno…” he replied, surprise colouring his voice.
**
After a day of deliberation and analysis, Nikhil was glad to be in the comfortable confines of his home. The day was a sultry one, as expected in the mid of August. He threw his jacket into the laundry-bin, slung his bag on the set of hooks next to the door and dragged his feet into the bathroom.
“I swear I will hug the ones who invented the shower and the AC,” he sighed, scrubbing himself all over as felt his tensed up muscles relax under the warm jet of water.
After donning a pair of flannel trousers and nightshirt, he trooped into the kitchen to fix his dinner. Not in a mood to cook anything, he warmed up yesterday’s leftover pasta and poured himself a glass of orange juice.
It had been just a week his wife and daughter left to visit his in-laws in Mumbai—and already he was missing them.
The microwave gave a gentle beep, signalling the pasta was all warmed up. He took his dinner-tray into the bedroom and set them on the study-table.
The pink, slightly burned diary stared back innocently.
What the heck.
He spooned a bit of pasta into his mouth before opening it.
The name, Anandita Rathi, was written in stylised calligraphy on the first page—he knew this was the name of the deceased.
The first entry was dated 7th May…he checked today’s date on the digital wall-clock. It was 21st July.
7th May
It is really an adorable house…
**
“Mom! This is superb!!! Like awesome superb!!!” Anandita gushed, looking around the living room. It was a cozy room, painted in pale pastel pink and the walls were dotted with various photographs.
“I told you, this deal was real steal,” her mother said, mirroring her daughter’s excitement. She was short and plump with a genial motherly face, her hair held up in pony tail as her grey eyes shone in delight.
Her father, a sober, quiet but an amiable man looked on the duo with a smile as he too breathed in the new paint. It was their forever dream to own a house…and this one was just perfect. It fitted the pocket and it fitted their list of requirements. He thanked the heavens for sending the house-agent to them.
“Not to mention my school and guitar classes are like ten minutes away—being in the middle of the city yet far from the maddening crowd is what I like…” Anandita danced around dreamily.
The movers had shifted all their furniture and knick-knacks a day before and Mr. Rathi had arrived early to oversee the hired helps as they placed the furniture in the proper places. Now, it was afternoon and the family was delighted to have their first lunch in their new home.
“Sadly, it has to be a take-away though,” said her mother as she placed the food on the dining table.
“No probs, mom. I will help you to break into our kitchen later this evening,” Anandita said happily.
**
10th May
The last three days have been super-tiring…what with getting my clothes out of the suitcases into the wardrobes, arranging my books on the shelves…etc. etc. I never realized I had these many clothes…*sheepish grin* maybe mom’s right when she tells me that I have too many clothes to handle.
Finally, the house is all set and proper. The suitcases and trunks in the attic (yep, we have an attic! Feels so exciting!!), all the curtains in their proper places and the backyard filled with the cute flowerpots mom always wanted.
School’s off for the day since it’s our Foundation Week. It’s late afternoon and I am lazing in my bed…mom and dad are off for work and the weather’s nice for a change…
Nikhil sighed before turning pages in random. It was just a normal teenager’s diary…peppered with the usual everyday events. There was nothing which could be useful from his point of view.
He sipped the last drop of the juice and yawned—site investigation coupled with a long day at the analysis division sucked out all his energy. After scraping the last bit of sauce from the plate and putting it in his mouth, he dragged his feet back into the kitchen.
He couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed; he had expected the diary would throw some light in the matter. Was the fire a result of some accident…or a botched suicide attempt? Or was it some external agent at work?
After washing his face, he returned to his room, took the diary and lay down on the bed.
Today’s school was seriously boring…
I am so sleepy…
Nikki, Renai and I had an awesome time at the mall…
Renai came over for a sleepover…
The names Nikki and Renai kept popping up…apparently they were Anandita’s closest friends. Though his eye were heavy with sleep, he decided to call up Rita and get them tracked down.
“Rita Shannon here. What is it, Detective Shekhawat?” said a cool voice from the other end.
“I found two names in the diary—Nikki and Renai. Looks like they were Anandita’s closest friends. Track them down ASAP. And have you contacted Mr. and Mrs. Rathi yet?”
“Yes, Anandita’s parents have been tracked down. They are presently in shock and the Trauma department’s handling them. I will get down to Nikki and Renai and get back to you when I find anything.”
He ended the call and lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. The clock struck eleven—and he knew it would take Rita a minimum of two hours to track them down. He felt sorry for Anandita’s parents; after all, it is nothing less than a horrific, purgatory-worthy shock to get the news that your daughter burnt to death.
He could feel a shiver run down his spine. No, he didn’t envy them at all.
**
He must have dozed because the next thing was his cell-phone ringing shrilly next to his ear.
He jumped bolt upright, staring dumbly at his phone for a couple of seconds before realizing that it was Rita who was calling.
“Did you find anything?” he rushed quickly, blinking rapidly to expel sleep from his eyes.
“Nikita Tiwari and Rishika Nandwani were Anandita’s best friends…they are your standard eleventh graders. Want me to schedule a meeting?” she said in her usual collected manner.
“Hmm…nope. Don’t bother. Just text me the addresses…I might pay them a visit if I feel like it.”
“As you wish. And yes, the brass want you to talk to Anandita’s parents tomorrow. I know it’s no party but that’s the drill—your case, your clean up.”
Nikhil breathed out heavily, not looking forward to that meeting.
“What’s need to done, has to be done. No use in cribbing. Anyways, thanks for the help. Sleep well.”
“It’s four in the morning,” Rita said dryly.
“And we report to the office by seven…when do you suggest I get some shut-eye?”
Nikhil cringed as he glanced at the clock…she was right.
“I am sorry.”
“Don’t be. I was just stating the fact. See you in office.”
**
“She wasn’t suicidal…why, she was the most fun-loving girl ever!”
Mrs. Rathi sniffed into the handkerchief as she talked about her daughter.
“She was a nice, responsible and conscientious young lady…I just don’t know what to think anymore…” Mr. Rathi said quietly.
Nikhil nodded sympathetically—he had a telephonic conversation with the Principal of Anandita’s school and she too was of the same opinion.
“Forensics say that the gas stove was left unplugged…and some spark led to the fire. But Anandita’s body was found in the bedroom, so apparently someone else did this. Mr. Rathi, you are a businessman…do you have any rivals? Or enemies for the matter?” Nikhil asked.
“I agree I am a businessman, but not that big that I have people after my life,” he answered slowly.
Nikhil shook his head…the case was simply spiralling out of depth now.
“Not a suicide, no enemies, no accident…then what on earth is it?” Nikhil muttered to himself.
**
Nikki and Renai were in shock too but they agreed to drop in by Nikhil’s office.
Nikki was tall and athletic with waist length black hair and bespectacled grey eyes while Renai was petite and delicate with curly brown hair and golden eyes.
“We knew her since kindergarten…in fact Renai gifted her that diary you are talking about,” Nikki said after Nikhil gave them an overview of the situation.
“Anandita wasn’t much of writing girl but for my sake, she decided to keep a diary…we planned to keep a diary for a year and then exchange it…it was our ‘pact’ of friendship…” Renai sniffed.
“Umm…” Nikki began haltingly, arresting Nikhil’s attention.
“Lately…like for the couple of weeks, Annie…that’s Anandita…wasn’t all herself. She was like completely stressed out…scared…”
Nikhil looked at Nikki intently, motioning her to continue.
“I can’t tell you exactly…it was as if she wasn’t sleeping well…and she didn’t want to stay alone when her parents left a week back. I remember our last sleepover at Renai’s house…she kept looking over her shoulder as if expecting to see someone there…”
**
Nikhil left office early and dashed straight into his room.
The diary lay innocently on his table as he had left it in the morning.
He quickly turned through the pages before settling over the entry of 7th July.
7th July
Lately I haven’t been sleeping well and that’s playing a havoc with my body…it’s been three days since I last went school. I have this terrible headache and constant hunger but my stomach feels queasy at the sight of food…
He turned the page before a sentence caught his eye.
I was positive I wasn’t alone in my room.
He scanned the page for the beginning of the entry…and he found it.
9th July
Renai and Nikki aren’t taking me seriously…there’s something wrong with this house. Mom and Dad say that since I am having sleeping problems, my mind’s playing tricks with me. But how can that explain my pillow reduced to feathery smithereens overnight? Or my laptop starting up all of a sudden in the middle of the night?
I am alone in the house now…the maid just left. I don’t know what to do…
But I am sure of one thing about last night—I was positive I wasn’t alone in my room.
I could see a silhouette over my bedroom window. No one could be walking outside since the room’s on the second floor so that person had to be inside. Five minutes later, that silhouette disappeared.
Nikhil felt chilly all of a sudden before turning the page.
12th July
I am scared…
I am very scared…
Yesterday night, someone broke the flowerpots in the backyard…I am positive it is that very…well, that very thing that’s plaguing me. Dad says it must be some local vandals but I know…I am sure…
Nikhil noticed that the handwriting, which was neat and stylised in the beginning was now more of a hardly-legible scribble.
15th July
Mom and Dad left for their business trip…I am freaking out. When I attempt to step out of the house, I feel so dizzy that I am forced to step in again. The doctor was called in yesterday—he says I have a touch of mild fever, nothing that couldn’t be healed by some rest and movie-binge.
Mom was apologetic about leaving me behind in this state but it was inevitable—the meeting and the conference after that was something which couldn’t be missed. But she promised Trisha Aunty would pop in to visit everyday until I am up and ready.
15th July (evening)
Trisha Aunty is down with jaundice…and I can’t help but feel the convenience of the timing. Whatever was in the house didn’t want anyone else to interfere.
Nikhil thought he heard someone knock the door once…he waited the person to repeat the knocking. Shrugging it off as the play of the wind, he continued reading.
17th July
It is eleven at the night and I am under my blanket…I swear someone was staring back at me from the bathroom mirror…and it was not me…
It was a face…pale, white, bloodless face with long black hair and hollow eye-sockets.
Now the window is rattling…I so hope it’s only the wind…
18th July
Trisha Aunty is still down with jaundice. Renai and Nikki are up to their necks with project work so they cannot visit me…
Even the maid has taken sick leave since yesterday…
19th July
I tried stepping out of the gate…and promptly had the worst dizzying spell which made me step in back. This was crazy…but thankfully, mom called in to tell she would be returning the day after tomorrow.
At least I wouldn’t be alone in this freaky house. I keep all the lights switched on all through the night until the sun rises up fully. But I still feel as if I sitting in the dark…
Nikhil felt the back of his neck burn in pain suddenly…he massaged it before turning the page to read the last entry.
It was very, very short.
20th July
IT WANTS TO KILL ME.
Nikhil dropped the diary, shivering. It was a sultry evening but he felt cold.
Chilly.
And he felt someone breathing down his neck.
He gripped the sides of his chair tightly before turning to look.
It was a pale, bloodless face with long black hair and hollow eye-sockets.
And he screamed.
**
“Nikhil Shekhawat had no history of a heart ailment, did he?” the doctor enquired.
“No, at least that what the official records say,” Rita replied.
But she couldn’t help but feel curious about the look of pure, unadulterated horror etched on his face.
She stepped out of the morgue and asked the young detective who went all over his house to hunt clues.
“Did you find any diary? A pinkish coloured one?” she asked.
“Nothing of that sort, ma’am.”
__END__
