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Horror Fiction: 103-Western Hills

103-Western Hills

It was a day of silence in Phase 2, E-103 Western Hills. Alexander was seeking peace since long and this was what he found. A new place between the mountains. A colorful neighborhood just like he watched in the kid's show named Noddy as a child. A bit expensive. But those days everyone had to buy the peace they deserved from the world. He was very excited to move to the new place he thought was very peaceful. He was not wrong. He never was. The hood was full of happening things. Squash court, swimming pool, and mansions, smiling faces, happy families, play areas, hangout zones, clubhouse, golf course and what not. Probably one of the best decisions Alexander made in his 22-year-old life. The age did not define the maturity those days anyway.All of those things, but he missed out something. He should have known. There is a difference between silence and peace like there is between alone and lonely.

Alexander moved in the house the next weekend he paid a visit to the same place. It was a road trip with friends, tossing around some stuff in the empty house and then hanging out in a burger joint around the corner of the highway, checking out random hot chicks as Alex’s girlfriend was out of town. Checking out wasn’t a sin back then. A tiresome but fun-packed Sunday with best bro's. The fun didn't last long. One of his friends had a car they were using to commute around. As they were heading back home, a speeding truck approached close to them. It skipped their heartbeat. As it looked, it was God's own plan to not let anything bad happen to them. Nothing bad could have happened to them.

Alexander soon returned to his fortress of solitude as his friends dropped him and headed back to their respective homes. Alexander was tired. Broken. To leave behind his own people. He lived 30 mins way from the office now, but 5 days away from his friends. He fell asleep as soon as he blinked his way through the eye drops he used to soothe his eyes. He was a techie. A coder. A developer working for a billion dollar multi-national company, society, and his parents. Everyone was happy except him for what he was and who he had become.

The dark hours soon passed, sunlight hit his face hard. As it appears, those dark hours were only the hours of light for him. Alarms started screaming in his ears every other fifth minute as he set them, reminding him that it was time. The day had arrived. He has to die. As his deal with world mentioned, he would trade his life for five days and the world would allow him to breathe for two days. He did. It was Monday.

Alexander got off the bed, brushed his teeth, and took a bath and of course, he did what everyone does in the morning. I don’t need to exclude it from my story like anyone else’s. It's natural and also a daily activity. Nothing new..!! Nothing Different..!!

He used to wear his fancy shirt every day of his five not so fancy days. The people called it formal wears. I guess wearing the shirt was also a part of formalities. He used to pull his pants up as his wish to live went down, inch by inch. He also used to tighten a tie around his neck. The tie which would choke him to death every day. He stuffed his mouth with everyday breakfast. That would allow him to remain silent till lunch. Remain silent. Not at peace. Monday Passed. Tuesday did too. Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday went by too. Gradually Mondays Passed. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays. All passed. Just like winds. To be hyper-descriptive, like tornadoes.

Nothing changing. Beards grew. Trimmed. Belly grew. Dieted. The optic number of spectacles grew. Operated. Responsibility grew. Taken. Salary grew. Invested. Desperation grew. Fornicated. Family grew. Cared. Alexander did everything that a man would do. Only for others, however. Always.

He was alone as he trimmed his beards, He was alone as he dieted his way through. It was hard for him to cook food for someone he didn’t love. In this case Alex himself. He was alone as he was lying in the operating room watching his eyes burn to adjust his vision. He was alone as he paid his own bills of worthless helplessness. He was alone as he had a small party with himself on his increment. He was alone as he had the time of his life with the one he loved. She was there, always. But he wasn’t. Neither for her nor for himself. He was alone.

He was lonely.

He was right there. Making history. Breaking future. And present? It’s just an illusion. Created by future, appreciated by past.

It’s been 116 years since Alexander was found dead in his apartment. Hung to the ceiling with the same tie he used to tighten around his neck every day. People claim they can still hear him sing, like he did with his tiny wooden instrument called ukulele, when he was home. They say it’s his ghost that sings. And to their surprise, the voice is soothing and does not plant fear.Some even claim to see him with his girlfriend. They are many times seen relaxing near the river flowing right beside the tower he used to live in.

Over 240 houses in Western hills are still haunted by people like Alex. Waking up to do the same shit over and over each day and sleeping to wake up again.

They say ghosts cannot be seen. Alexander never saw a man again.

The place still remains haunted with ghosts. They say, ghosts never die.


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