Houses have fascinated me right from my childhood. Being an avid lover of Horror-fiction books and movies, houses and I go a long way together. However, this specific house comes first on my list. Because I witnessed a strange yet unique blend of horror and romance going side by side.
It happened during the last year fall.
Matches are made in heaven. It’s a common belief in people’s minds. However, I don’t believe this has anything to do with their actual perceptions. This is just a consolation for the numerous love failures and a vote of congratulations for all the lovely couples.
Humans have an odd habit of playing with words. They mend their statements according to their solace. Dozens of factors are considered while preparing a quote.
But, trust me, truth is not one of them. Houses, though, don’t like to abide by all the rules. Or else, they have to witness tragic accidents like this one did.
Priyanka was a sweet, bubbly college going girl in her early twenties. She had an amazing aura of positivity surrounding her.
Perhaps, she didn’t have tear glands. Or, that’s what we all believed. Walking through the streets, I would always come across her house. A big red house with aristocratic finishing along with artistic choices of patterns and secondary colors. The house was one of the most vibrant ones, exactly like her.
Pretty, positive, and well-mannered girls never come single, do they?
And Priyanka was no exception. She was committed.
Happily taken, as she put it. Her partner was admirable. Every single person who saw them together could never hold his tongue and would always spill out his words of appreciation.
They were tagged with a prestigious label which read ‘The Perfect Couple’.
Her terrace was the spot for their romance. Romance, in the sense, being delved into each other’s words. Staring at each other’s eyes till a cute blush became evident on their faces. Holding hands and talking endlessly about topics starting from themselves to the entire universe.
That is called true romance.
However, their romance slowly started to fade away. That’s what I felt. Nobody noticed a thing.
Priyanka’s positivity was perhaps too good for them. It was almost impossible to crack through her to see how she was feeling.
Hence, people never suspected anything about their dwindling romance.
But, her eyes told an entirely different story. Eyes never lie. Her eyes were not unique compared to her extraordinary self.
She was perhaps feeling guilty. She seemed to be lost in thoughts. That fake smile made a fool of everyone but not me.
Gradually, the terrace became lonely. Addicted to the love story of those two, the entire house seemed to be wearing a sunken face.
And one day, the house finally cried.
As it witnessed the tragic fall of its favorite member. Priyanka committed suicide by jumping off the roof!
People did what people always do. Go with the flow. They termed it a ‘Suicide’ and in due course of time, forgot about her completely. Even the police stopped the investigation midway after encountering numerous dead-ends in the case.
But I knew, I knew for sure it wasn’t suicide.
An optimistic girl like her would never think of suicide. Even though everyone lost interest, in that case, I didn’t. I could feel that she was pushed off the roof. By her boyfriend. That bloody killer! I decided to report it. But, minds and hearts have never complimented each other in my life. And they refused to abandon their tradition.
My heart persuaded me to report about him. However, my mind reminded me of the consequences. In the end, I had to submit to my mind.
I see him daily, that killer, but greet him with a smile. I hate him.
Every day, I pass by her house. And when I stand in front of that colossal building, I look at my hands. I’m still in shock. I can’t believe I pushed her off the roof.
I can’t believe I killed my girlfriend. My only love!
Aniket Das is currently a student in agriculture at OUAT, Bhubaneswar. He started writing eight months back. An avid book lover. What fascinates him the most are the stories based on mystery and suspense.