A series of short and micro stories written in my leisure time or in other words when I am having episodes of 'writer's block' while writing my ongoing WIP.
In here, you will find various genre of stories.
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"You mean to say, I own a house at the Garden Villa? The place where posh people live?" Raghav asked yet again to the old man whose height lost half of it for his hunched back. The old man who had not introduced his name, nodded with a toothless grin, his sliver overgrown eyebrows shield his squinting eyes.
Raghav, however, stood confused with the sudden ownership of a house let alone in the most expensive area in the city. His parents weren't from any rich family, nor did they have much money to have a house there. To his vast knowledge of twenty-six years, they never lived a life of at least a middle-class family. Raghav's family had always been struggling to have their ends meet. With so much of struggle since long and after being chased out of his rental house, the old man dropped a bombshell of the mysterious house.
The young boy was pulled back to the present by the nudge of the old man standing next to him. He handed Raghav the keys to the house and a small note with its address. "It's yours now. Go and live there. Do not complaint anymore that your grandparents had not left anything for you and that you were left to suffer."
A gush of relief washed over the old man's face soon after the keys had been handed to their rightful owner. "I have fulfilled the promise I made to you," the old man's hand reached his chest, he patted once with a glum smile. He took one last glance of the young man who seemed lost staring at the key and then he marched away.
Still in a daze, staring at the rusted key, the honk of a bus somewhere in the street snapped him out. Raghav scanned around him to find the old man. "Where did he go?" He walked a little further to the left and then to the right, looked ahead at the huge road on the other side yet there was no sign of the man.
"I hope this is not a joke." He commented to which an answer from him echoed within. You will have to check it out to know it for yourself.
***---***---***
"House number. . . 99," his speech dragged on while gapping at the huge lavish houses came one after the other as his cab cruised along the road. It's an understatement to call those buildings houses, each one looked like a palace with one-of-a-kind architecture which bubbles the expectation of what's instore for his so-called house.
He grinned, mesmerizing the lavish buildings. The road along the Garden Villa residence was another beauty to add into the list of amazingness apart from its cleanliness to the well organised residence. The huge bougainvillea trees in pink and purple generously bloomed splashing colours of vibrance against the black street and white houses. Indeed, a garden villa.
The cab came to a sudden halt, Raghav turned to his left to check the house number and to his right. None of it matched the number written on the chit, "Why did you stop here, brother?" asked Raghav to the cab driver.
"There is a roadblock ahead, sir. You might need to walk from here," replied the driver.
Barricades had been pulled to the centre of the road blocking all kind of vehicles passing the road. It looked like a small procession although he'll need to walk further to confirm the happenings. He paid the fare for his cab and swung his huge bag over his shoulder.
