Killing the Red God

A serialization of my novel, "Killing the Red God". | Copyright: Hari Kumar | website: www.harismind.com | If this is your first visit, please start from the bottom (start of Chapter 1)

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Location: Singapore, Singapore

Sunday, September 25, 2005

Chapter 2 -- Part 7

Author's Note:
For reading the first chapter, you may download it in Acrobat PDF format from here (Click here!)
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Now for the latest instalment....
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Then one Saturday morning as I was reading the Straits Times, I saw her carry her pillow and bedding out to the common corridor and lay it on the patch of sun in front of our door. I noticed her trying to avoid showing her face to me. I walked up to her with the steaming mug of coffee in my hand and asked her casually, “What’s up, Nish?”
“Blasted ants. They ate up my face last night,” she showed her face to me. It was dotted with red spots.
“You sure it’s not some allergy?” I asked with concern.
“Nah. My pillow was crawling with ants in the morning. I think, it’s your spunk… I guess it’s sweet enough for the ants… Better get yourself checked for diabetes or something.”
“Cannot be. I got a full medical only last week. I am in the pink. I don’t think it’s because it’s sweet. Ants are naturally attracted to protein.” Secretly I was happy. I was hoping she would stop this disgusting habit. But she had other ideas. That night I noticed a small bowl of water under each steel leg of her cot. “Let’s see the ants get at my face this time,” she said gleefully, marvelling at her innovativeness.
But when that pert Preethy with her pageboy cut and sophistication, wandered into her bedroom and remarked with a deft twirl of her dainty fingers, “Nish, dear, is this your idea of a waterbed, or what?” triggering peals of laughter from her other bridge-mates, Nisha felt humiliated.
That night being that special once-a-month night she says between my grunts, “I am finished with these bridge bitches. I’ll teach that Preethy chooth, a lesson. Just watch. Instead of being a dumbo bimbo like her, I will rise up in the corporate circles. Get respect from men who matter. Just you wait and see…” She was fuming under me. I could feel it in the way her muscles tightened around me.

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(To be continued...)

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