by Jason Wood
He was Augustus Hemsworth, the most adept undercover officer to be found in the whole wide world. He had been responsible for the catching of a variety of criminals from different countries. This woman had been a particularly difficult case for him, though. He understood her psychology enough to know that all her victims had been hypocrites. The kind of people praised by the world but in reality were monsters were mostly her targets. He saw that green light in the sky as well, illuminating it which could have easily passed to be a stroke of lightning. He knew it was the cue and alerted his team as well.
He did not start the alarm though which would have alerted everyone, including the killer as well. His team members knew what to do and he himself went straight for the bed chambers of the target. He crossed the threshold of the house and started moving towards the central part of the house. He reached a portion where four pillars were attached and in their center was a garden in which white roses were planted. He spotted the staircase moving from the center of the garden and started climbing them. It led him to a corridor at the end of which was the bedroom. He tiptoed towards it, careful not to make a single sound. The door was not locked and he entered the room. There was nobody inside and the social reformer was soundly sleeping in his bed. The tightened muscles in his body relaxed and he decided to return but then thought better of it. He sheathed his revolver and marched forward to examine the sleeping figure when suddenly he heard a small sound that came within the room as if someone had tried to move. He went towards it and found an open window, but nobody was around. As he was about to return, he saw a black cloth at the railing of the window and went to examine it. As he looked out of the window, he found the figure of a woman dangling from it through that piece of cloth he immediately grabbed it. Nothing of her face was visible but as he clutched the cloth, her eyes widened and she tried to jerk away the cloth, but he did not let go. She tried to tear it as he tried to reel he in through it, but the cloth came out in his hands revealing only her eyes as she fell down from the window.
He gasped as he saw those deep green eyes and alerted a member of his squad to find her. He was sure that she would not have survived the fall. He went to check on the old guy sleeping in his bed and found him dead as he had expected. Unlike her other victims, this one was not killed brutally. A glass of milk was set on the bedside table and Augustus suspected that t was poisoned.
He explained the situation to his chief on the phone and went to see the dead body. What he found was beyond amazing, the woman had not only survived but had also disappeared.
He felt dismayed, dejected and suddenly he felt an emotion he had not felt for a while; hateful anger!
Chapter 4
Home is where the heart is!
15/04/2005
Dear diary,
Today I had a close shave. I went to this enigmatic museum today. It was a dark mansion, a very famous place and a reason for tourist attraction for this city. I had heard a lot about it and felt stimulated to visit it. It is beautiful, no doubt but I spotted someone familiar there, my crush from school, you know. I could not bear to think what he would say if he recognized me. I knew I would be embarrassed. It was a rather funny story. At the school, I had a great crush on this guy and my oaf of a friend told everyone about it and he heard it too, of course. Oh my, God, I had to beg my mother to have my school changed to save me from painful life it would have followed. My mother had to leave that place as she had lost that job and my Uncle had called her to live with her so it turned out to be ok. I was shocked to see him today. He had grown to be even more handsome than what he was back at school. I knew he would hate me and will never approve my way of life but who needs his nods, it is my life and I have the right to live it the way I want it to.
Anyways, forget the stupid conversation, I have something important to write. I am feeling rather lonely these days. It is rather strange, but I have a recent itch to go visit my mother, but it would be so awkward. I don’t know where this thought is coming from. It must be that Mrs. Madeline. She looks so much like mother and always talking about her daughter, she reminds me of the mother. I guess I should just let the feeling die on its own.
I will one day tell you all about my childhood and you will know the real me. My struggles, desires, hopes, and dreams. Why some other day, though? Let me just write it for you now.
I was brought up in the small town by my mother who was a single parent. My father had died in a road accident which was a hit and run scenario. I went to school and my mother had some friends and then there were some neighbors, but I never felt comfortable around people. It drove me nuts to be with them for long.
It was a few years later that nature took its course and I found a way out.
It was in my teenage years that the fantasy had taken shape in my mind. I had read an article somewhere that triggered my imagination. It remained a fantasy for many years until the cutting of the same article presented itself to me while I was sorting out my books.
I was sitting on the floor of my bedroom, carefully making piles of books and papers and stuffing them into appropriate cardboard boxes when a paper clipping suddenly fell from my old textbook of biology. I was about to throw it away without a second glance like I had thrown many other such papers but then decided to have a look at it.
It is human nature to get nostalgic, people like to revisit their past. The things a person does in younger years always stay somewhere in the hearts of the emotional people and in the brains of the skeptics.
I opened the twice folded paper. It was all yellowed and there was a red stain on it, of strawberry or blood I couldn’t remember. Somehow, after all those years, I could still recall the memory attached to this piece of paper. I read:
“The idea of a home is very diverse. It will be different for different people at different times. I am not sure what home really is. I think if you are comfortable at a place then that should be a home for you. Now you may be comfortable at a place at one time and not at the other times. Home is a dynamic concept in my opinion. Most people are comfortable with their families and so the idea of a home means where your family is. Although, there would be people who will only be comfortable when they are alone and still others who are not comfortable even in their own skin. Often people feel comfortable while reading a book or playing a game or some other such thing. It doesn’t mean that a book is a home for everybody who enjoys reading. For some people, it would be just a hobby or a stimulant or it may play the role of a tranquilizer but it’s not their comfort zone. While for others it would be a way of life. A person can have multiple comfort zones and hence multiple homes.
It is a usual understanding that nomads have no home but actually they have multiple homes. Their way of life is comfortable to them and that is their idea of a home..........”
I had stopped at this point and suddenly I realized it; the significance of this paper. The article I probably never finished reading but the article that made me dream and also made me a part of the only row of my life.
I had known that then was not the time. I was too young and stupid. The idea had seemed only an illusion then, even to my stubborn, determined self. But not now! ‘This’ I had thought with a joy in my heart, “is the time; the right time”
Every fiber of my body had become active and thrilled. My whole being wanted what my heart had devised and my brain approved too. The best desires are those which insinuate tranquility and unity; the desires which do not cause conflicts. Six years ago, there was a lot of struggle going on inside me. Only my heart had spoken then, but now there was no battle to be fought. I had a perfect desire.
To look back at that time, I feel amazed. I still can’t believe that I had taken the great step of living my life the way I had desired. Not caring for anybody else for once. I was 20 when I had left home. It is seven years now and there was no looking back.
Love,
Sam
xoxo
Chapter 5
The guardian angel
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br /> The last task was completed, the man was no more, the man who had ruined her whole life had no life now, yet there was no satisfaction. She had killed him the way she had always dreamt she would, from the night she was molested and left to die till the night she finally did it. The poison that attacks the ability to speak first and then crucial pain coursing through every part of the body.
Yet she still felt empty.
There was nothing more to do now. It had been decided, years ago that she will end her career of killings at the final murder of Dr. Theodore Woodhouse and it was done. She was once an innocent girl until she turned thirteen years and had to say good-bye to her comfortable life for the revenge that boiled her blood. As she looks back at those early years of her life she could not believe how much she had changed. Ten years had burnt her, molded her, and turned her into a completely different person.
She had come back to home from school that day with her friends. Nobody had the slightest idea of what had happened in the house. She entered the front door, still laughing at a joke her crush had made in the math class, not knowing what horror was to welcome her inside. Her father had been lying on the floor, immersed in a pool of blood, half-conscious. When he saw her coming he ordered her to run away but she was rooted to the spot and her mother was lying on the floor either dead or unconscious. Somebody grabbed her from behind and a stroke of something heavy brought her into the black zone of nothingness
When she opened her eyes, she found herself in a cell. It was the basement of a mansion, the same mansion in which she was to kill her tormentor, many years later. She was accompanied there by an old man who was also a prisoner. He smiled at her kindly and in later years he was the one who became her mentor. He told her that her father was killed because he was trying to bring the truth to light. Mr. Theodore was involved in smuggling of innocent children and her father had found some strong evidence against him. Her father was a police officer, a simple one who took his duty to heart and he hated hypocrisy. This Theodore was considered a social reformer and a great leader that the public looked to and her father’s involvement was not welcome at all. She did not know how much she had cried that night. She missed her mother and asked the old man about her and he said that he thinks she might be alive or not, he was not sure.
She was to be transported to some other country, somewhere in the next week. She knew it so she started misbehaving with the guards. Whenever she would get frustrated she stated calling them names and profanities. The old man tried to stop her, but grief had turned her insolent to the point of insanity. One of the guards got infuriated and despite his orders of not harming her, molested her and the uproar it caused was enough for the old man to take her and run away from the prison.
He had her treated both physically and emotionally. At first she did not know or understood anything but gradually she started to recover and the first thing that she noticed was she was not in London. It was a nice small house made of wood and all around her was lush greenery and huge mountains. That was where her love for nature had developed. He used to visit her daily and brought gifts for her. She started to love him. He healed her as much as was possible, but the things which are beyond healing are another problem.
Some things must be remedied by action, he had told her one afternoon. It is when words are not enough to describe what crucial pain the person is feeling that it use of force becomes inevitable.
She nodded and after a pause she said, but what if you do not know wat should be done?
I cannot tell you that, dear. The course of action can only be decided by the one who has experienced the pain. I have seen people turn into great saints after trials and afflictions while the same tribulations for others have turned angels into demons. He replied.
What if the demons are in the form of angels?
How about creating an army of angels in the guise of devils? He had winked at her.
He stopped visiting her after that conversation and it was not long after that a young man arrived at her residence with a letter from the old man. It had a single sentence written in an elegant slant writing, would you like to be an angel in the guise of a devil? It was signed by a single beautiful G.
For the next week she kept thinking, more about the writer of the letter than the letter itself. Who was this old man? He looks old but he doesn’t feel old, she had thought. At times she felt, almost dreamt that if this old man was a young lad with romantic blue eyes. Then she jerked this thought away. It was inappropriate and this was plain obsession which she must get over with, but he was so mysterious…….
She sat at the desk in her room. The giant handsome mahogany furniture was extremely beautiful and no doubt expensive. She took a piece of parchment and gazed at it for a long time. She was not sure what to do. She wanted the revenge and she wanted to know about her mother too but even after all the tragedies she still could not find the fire in her, the desire to burn everything with it. She glanced at the window and as usual it took her breath away. The sun was setting and the sky looked like a painting of different shades of various colors; the blues mixing with red, oranges and pinks. The color can only be described as the color of sunset and anybody who has seen sunset would know what is being described. It soothed her and she made her decision, but she could not find a pen. She started to look into the drawers of the desk and with a pen she found some photographs, letters, and documents. The mystery of the old man unraveled a little and she wrote her reply.
Dear G,
YES!
Ever since then there was no looking back.
Chapter 6
The ship needs the anchor!
8/5/2015
Dear diary,
Today is my birthday. I have turned 28 years old. It may sound old to you but in comparison to my mental age, it is nothing.
I want to confess about something, a thought that is bothering me a lot now. It is the strangest thing to have happened, but I think I must retire now. I feel like I don’t want to travel anymore. I want to return to my home or to my mother. It is the same thing because my mother is my home. I have no other family member.
I know it is rather selfish of me to leave my mother alone, but I have left her in responsible and loving hands of Gana, the caretaker. I think Gana loves my mother more than even myself. Please, do not take me wrong, I love my mother but the fact that she did not respect my wishes and had no trust in my decisions had always been a source of pain for me. I know what she did was only out of love for me and for my safety, but I think she should have recognized my strength and allowed me to soar, but instead she tried to cage me. It is a general notion that the more you try to confine something the more it pushes through and comes out, tearing all the bonds holding it and then there is a lot of pain.
Me and my mother fought a lot on the subject, but my will was not to be broken I knew. The shock was that she did not yield either and we both got so much hurt in the process. I could not bring myself to let go of my only wish.
But,
Lately, it is a strange feeling, the moment I close my eyes I see her face and I just cannot control myself. I must return to her, I know. I miss the softness of her voice as she used to whisper soothing words to my ear, the affection in the skin of her hardened hands as they had touched me on so many occasions of happiness and grief and most of all the widening of her eyes at the mention of something alarming and wrinkles around them when she would laugh, smile, cry and talk. I miss her presence in my life, the anchor of a ship is also necessary to keep it safe. I will return to you, mum!
Before that, I have to make one last journey, though. I have lived my life the way I wanted to, welcoming different challenges as it had been thrown at me. I must plunge into one last adventure before I return to my final abode.
Let me see, where I should go now. I guess the start must be the stop. I will have my last adventure to where I had my first one. Italy, here I come!
Love,
Sam
Xoxo
Chapter 7
Italy!
There is a certain kind of people who have a habit of making their lives difficult for themselves? If there are no problems in their life, they start getting frustrated. They love to live in misery.
Augustus has that nature as well.
After Mr. Theodore had been poisoned, he resigned from his job. His reasoning was simple that he had been an undercover officer for so many years because he had never failed to catch a culprit but as he had failed to catch this woman, he had no right nor desire to continue his job.
His decision could be passed as logical on some grounds, but his further resolution to follow that woman who has defeated him was indeed maddening. It has been months since her last attack at Mr. Theodore and according to the reports, it was supposed to be the last venture of her career and she would have retired. Yet, Augustus could not get rid of those green eyes looking at him with a mixture of shock and interest.
Who is she? He thought. Where had she gone now? I have been following her around the world for around nine years now, she had done nine murders in those years and despite the reports that this one was her last, he was sure that she would do one more to complete the figure of ten murders. These people love styles and cliché’s he thought. He preferred them even more himself and decided to stop the tenth murder at all cost.
He thought of all the pros and cons. He would be working illegally but he had done that before so it was not a problem. He knows that she has green eyes and can recognize them instantly. Her height would be approximately 5.7” and she had a slim body. The little bit of her skin that he could see that night was white and if she was the same woman he had been following for all these years than it would not be difficult to catch her. Last time, she had dressed in a way to give a feeling that she was in the mid-40s, but he knew well that she was in her late 20’s. She is a master of disguises but so am I. he thought, I must defeat her at her own game.