A December Night

"Warm blue wool and cold white flakes festooned the December land. The biting breeze of dark numbed our feet, While we were 1canoodling in our bed.

Few mins ago, we had red wine, the requisite of December. With a bit fuddle brain and heavy eyes, we dozed off.

3 am. I suddenly woke up to a blood-curdling piercing cry, a sharp scream. My petrified mind took a few mins to locate the shriek, 'Twas probably, the next room of the mansion.

I searched for him in the curled up the bed. I kept squealing his name, in vain!

While fingers iced in dismay, the cold moonlit peeping through the glass window, unfolded bright red stains on the white fleece blanket. Horror struck eyes knew those were bloodstains. I screamed out loud, tried hurling the blanket off the bed. When the edge of bulky serape touched the plush slippers on the tiles, and before my eyelashes cud shut once, a splash of blood began oozing out from beneath. Slooshing blood slithered through the glossy floor. The chilled white tiles, blemished with blood puddles all over within moments. Even the leafless branches outside, drenched in cold, cud hear my eldritch scream then. I rushed out of the room. I kept summoning him. I ran through the black corridors shouting out his name with my spine-chilled.My feet were doddering. I stumbled, bruised several times, even fell off from few stairs. I was injured. I was lying still, my left limb couldn't move. Yet, my parched blue lips kept blabbering his name. I crawled through the darkness, dragging my left limb.

I reached a corner out of breath. A petrified worn-out soul was frozen there. I searched for him. Everywhere in the villa. I didn't know where he was. I didn't know where I was. Till the glaciers began melting a bit with the nudge of little warm golden rays; I glued to the corner, weeping, shivering and murmuring his name!"

6 years later.

[Applauds]

"Congrats, Mam! Your book 'A December night' is the new bestseller. Few words from you in this interview?"

- "Abrupt and unexplained endings, I wasn't ever fond of it. Yet, sometimes the pen has to bleed the fate, or maybe it's the fault of my fatigue ink."(smiles)

"And, Is this book based on a true story?"

-I looked up, stared; chose to keep mum.

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