# Writing > Short Story Sharing >  The Shortcut (The story I had submitted for June elimination)

## Nikhar

Hey Guys...here's the story I had submitted for June elination. The original story was 3,000 words but I had to cut it down to 2,000 so that it could be entered into the competition.

Here's the compleet story-->

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*
The Shortcut*

* Chapter 1*
At the intersection of two roads, an almost lifeless worm endeavored to crawl the distance to the other end, when an enormously bright light made it retreat. 

“Freakin’ Folly!”, echoed a voice in the dead of the night from the insides of a humble fiat that glided on a road towards the city. “With this amount of fuel, I’m never going to make it to the city!”, continued the exasperated voice of the owner cum driver of the four-wheeler. James Rutherford, a comparatively younger and more ambitious man than others in his office, was asked to hand over the so called “important documents” to his boss. The fact that James lived in a suburb and his boss lived in the heart of the city apparently did not make the task easier. 

Relentlessly, he stopped. It was a chilly night, so chilly that the moon subsided into the clouds leaving the place darker than imaginable. A slight breeze flew and the dead leaves danced with a soft rustle. 
At a far-off place, a dog howled with soul-ripping agony. James, on his seat was thinking of the appropriate option, to take the shortcut to the city, on the right of the main road. Just as he was about to restart his fiat, dire reminiscences fleeted by.

In an affable and cozy bar, where gossip was a hotter topic than the Major’s daughter, James was seated in a corner. Few tables to his left, an avid crowd was being entertained by an elderly man, who, if had been cited as “The Gossip King”, would have been given the appropriate title. And surprisingly, more often than not, he was correct. James’ inquisitive mind urged him to eavesdrop.

The elderly man, in his usual haughty tone, began, “You all must have heard, have you not, about the maniac who lingers in the wretched lanes-”

A fool of a young boy interrupted, “Maniac, which maniac, a nympho-”

The elderly man was obviously not impressed at being interrupted, shouted, “No, you twittering twerp! A HOMICIDAL MANIAC!” 

His last words certainly made an impression on every one, even on the young boy, who despite being red on his face, could not conceal his excitement at the news and dropped the beer mug from his hands. 

The elderly man in his pompous manner continued, “Haven’t you heard about it? The man looks like just any other normal man, well-dressed and all. He often makes his short trips to the lanes by the side of The Forest and if he finds a suitable prey, have no misconception my dears, it’s the last moon the poor guy ever sees.”

A few tables far, James shuddered…

And today, James in his fiat, shuddered again. Because that shortcut was the very lane by the sides of the forest that the elderly man was talking about. He sat there, glued to his seat for a few seconds and thought of all the nightmares that he always had about blood and murder. But soon, he realized that he had no time to worry about such things. The fiat picked up speed and was soon lost in the darkness.

Eerie sounds from the woods echoed in the otherwise dead silence of the night. A few scary and shiny eyes from behind the trees stared at the fiat, apparently not happy on having a stranger amongst them. One could feel the presence of the unknown and dangerous beasts who hunted the forest.


All this did not ease James mind at all, he speeded up. The winds howled with rage thumping heavily at the windows. The flying dead leaves endeavored to reach each part of the fiat transferring its coldness to the metal. It seemed that the chillness would soon pierce the heart and freeze each vein and muscle. It was pitch dark, literally. With the furious speed at which James drove and with all the daunting thoughts that occupied his mind, he nearly ran over…..a man.

Had it not been for the headlights, he would have never seen the man. He steered the wheel to the left as hard as he could. The fiat jumped over a boulder, missed a deep ditch and nearly banged into a tree. Completely furious, James stormed out of his injured fiat, leaving the door open, swearing and not giving second thoughts to his actions. The fear had completely left him. “That wretched fool of a man!” he swore and looked around for him. But it seemed that he had vanished!

It took a howl from the distant woods to bring James back to his senses. He hurried back to his car, opened the door and quickly got himself seated. The drawer in the accident had thrown out its contents-the driving license, lots of papers, passport, a pen, a knife (with a fake ruby on its handle), a ring, a red stained handkerchief, a pocket diary and what not. He quickly put the things back, or almost all of them, before a quick glance at his watch told him that he had no more time to waste.

After a few minutes venture, he finally succeeded in bringing the fiat back on the road. He drove on. Every few minutes James had an uneasy feeling that someone else shared the space in his fiat. A few times he almost jumped thinking that someone touched him but it was too dark to see anything. And a horrifying idea struck his mind. When he had jumped out of his fiat, he had left the door open and when he had returned………..it was CLOSED! 

Thoughts passed too quickly for him to cope up with……_a bar………an elderly man…a young fool……lanes by the side of the forest………maniac……a homicidal maniac…..prey in the trap……MURDER!_ 

Suddenly, something caught his attention. A heartbeat. Yes, he was almost sure of that. A heartbeat that was not his. And a breath that was not his. And a movement that was certainly not his. And a flash in the rear view mirror. It was a knife that gleamed and laughed looking in the mirror! And also in the mirror was visible a hand that grasped the handle!

_Car…..lonely roads…..knife….blood……dead body…MURDER!_

James, off his rocker now, pressed the accelerator and the fiat talked with the wind. For a moment, he thought that he had just passed a huge monster, but the other thoughts had pre-occupied his mind so much, that he didn’t bother. The dust slapped the poor fiat as it rushed through the dirty roads. A bunch of leaves swiveled along the road from one end to the other. A few stones came flying towards the car and smashed into it leaving it scathed. 

_Club…..brutally beaten…..cracked skull……blood……death….MURDER!_ 

When, all these thoughts were passing through his mind, then, suddenly, too many things happened at once. A tree lay on the road, dead, dead as a huge monster just a few feet ahead of the fiat. A voice from the backseat suddenly shouted, “Look ahead, you fool!” Before James could register what was happening, the fiat dashed straight into the tree, did a somersault, was in the air for a few seconds and then it landed with a crash a few feet away on its head, throwing James out of it.

The road was stained red. James lay there, wailing and bleeding profusely. He writhed with pain, his back ached severely and he found breathing difficult. His vision was blurred and he gave short gasps. But amidst all this, he thought that his sense of sound had suddenly honed up to a razor edge. And just a few feet away, he thought, that he could hear some footsteps. As each second passed by, his heartbeat grew as loud as the approaching footsteps. James tried to roll down the road but the footsteps did not grow fainter. 
Then, a face bent over him. James couldn’t see it clearly, everything was blurred but the spine-chilling atmosphere could be sensed. He cringed in fear and gave a painful wheeze. Something caught James’s eye….a knife glistened in the assaulter’s hand. James’s left hand groped on the road hoping to find something and his hands closed around a sharp-edged stone. With all the strength he could muster, he heaved the stone and threw it towards the adversary. But the stone missed him.
The stranger laughed; it was a callous and a cold one. Then, out of the blue, his hand came down with the knife in it, making a swishing sound. James made a quick movement to his left, just managing to escape the onslaught. By this time, the adrenalin was in full flow, and each organ of his panicked. 
“How long?” The stranger gave an intimidating laugh. The voice seemed very familiar to James. But before James could give a second thought to it, the stranger pounced upon him; but missed him again. This time, the stranger’s face came very close and it slowly cleared up. As eye by eye, ear by ear began to form shape out of the darkness, James thought the face to be very familiar. 

And indeed, familiar it was.

It was the face of………………………..JAMES!

James, who lay on the road paralyzed and confused, suddenly, felt a sharp pang of pain in his stomach. Blood rushed out of the wound, where a knife was plunged; the knife with a fake ruby on its handle! And in a few seconds, James was dead. 

* Chapter 2*

“Mr. Harwood?” asked an elderly gentleman.
“Yes?” ,the famous psychiatrist Roger Harwood replied.
The old man took off his hat, bowed a little and said “Ferguson, Johann Ferguson.” 

“Ah, Mr. Ferguson! I was dying to meet you.” One could have noticed a small spark on the otherwise distressed face of Roger Harwood.

“I have been very anxious to meet you too…the days since that tragic night haven’t been easy.” He wiped off the sweat from his forehead. “Whenever I recall that incident, it greatly disturbs me”, he paused for a moment or two, and then continued, “So, you were the poor guy’s psychiatrist? Now, what’s his name?

“Yes, I was his psychiatrist. James Rutherford was his name. Now, perhaps, you would like to give me an account of the night’s events?”
“Oh yes, of course, of course. How can I forget that ghastly night! It was my daughter’s birthday the next day. I wanted to wish her sharp at midnight and I was already getting late. So, I took the shortcut by the sides of The Forest. Wretched roads, those really are, you always get that creepy feeling that someone is watching you. And it was terribly dark, you couldn’t see the road forward hadn’t it been for the headlights. And the wind, it went mad, barmy, very strong, very strong indeed, so strong that it could close a car’s heavy door of its own, no no, in fact so strong that it could blow away the door!

“So, I was driving slowly, afraid of losing my way or hurting some poor animal. Then suddenly, something passed by with the speed of express train, no tornado, yeah- tornado would fit it better, such great the speed was. When I saw what it was, I was relieved, it was a car. But I don’t think the driver of the other car saw me. He was passing at such a great speed, that he may have thought my car to be a beast from the wild.

“Anyways, I speeded up. I thought if I could follow the car, I would be much safer. Well, the poor fiat was injured, (yeah, he was driving a fiat), as if it had banged into a huge boulder or something. And, let me tell you, the atmosphere was not what you could call “pollution-free”. Tiny pebbles would strike our cars leaving it bruised. Anyways, oh, well, where was I? Yeah, I was following his fiat. And then, the mishap occurred.

“Well, he didn’t see it or what, I don’t know. But just a few feet ahead on the road, a huge tree lay dead, spread like a huge monster. And then, the fiat just banged into it!” Mr. Ferguson made a hand movement so animated that Roger almost jumped! “ It did a sort of an acrobatic leap, hanged in the air for some seconds, and then BOOM! Down it crashed on its roof!”

“Then?”

“Oh then, the poor boy was thrown out of the car, and he lay there, on the road, bleeding madly. I was dumbstruck, out of my wits for few seconds, I kept sitting in my car. Then, my senses returned. I quickly hurried out of my car to the boy to help. But then what I saw, was more terrifying than the accident.”

Mr. Ferguson’s vivid description had captured Roger’s interest completely. 

“Then, then, what happened then? What did you see?”

“James was wailing, giving out painful moans, writhing, rolling on the ground and perhaps, talking to himself!” 

Roger quickly noted down something on his notepad.

Mr. Ferguson, now enjoying his narration, continued, “But what shocked me the most was-”
“Was?”

“In his right hand, he had a knife!”

Roger worked furiously on his notepad.

“In the headlights of my car, his knife gleamed beautifully. The way he behaved at that moment was very awkward. He rolled and laughed and talked to himself. It seemed as if half of his body was doing something else and the rest something else. The right hand was very stiff, the left of his body squirmed. And then, at one moment, he would behave violently, as if filled with new fervour, and at the very next moment, he would behave like a cowering dog.

“Then…..then-” Mr. Ferguson’s voice suddenly broke. He opened his mouth, tried to say something but choked.

“Then, he raised his right hand and plunged the knife into his stomach!”
But this time, it was not Mr. Ferguson who spoke but the voice belonged to Roger Harwood, the psychiatrist of James Rutherford.

Mr. Ferguson, a little taken aback, asked, “Yeah, but how did you-”
“Well, Mr. Ferguson, after what you saw that day, and what you have suffered from since, I think you have the right to know what exactly happened then and why?

“James had first approached me on one such morning a few months back. He was scared that day, very scared. He was otherwise a young, confident and an ambitious guy (as I had deduced later). Anyways, he was terrified that day, so terrified that he couldn’t sit straight on the chair, he wriggled on his seat. He told me, for quite some days he was having very bad nightmares, involving lots of blood and murders. He was feeling very tired, physically and mentally. And that was not it, he had times when he could not remember anything. At one time, he would be on the terrace, and at the next moment, in the bathroom, with the taps on.

“I studied him for some time, gave him some medicines and that kept everything normal for a few days. Then suddenly, one day something very extraordinary happened. I had called him to my place. I was working in the garage with some tools when he came. We talked for a little while, when I cut my finger with one of the tools and blood stained the floor. James stared at it for some time, and then suddenly, attacked me with one of my tools! Fortunately, due to my quick reflexes, I managed to escape his attack and made him unconscious with the tool I had with me. When he woke up, he forgot everything about the assault.

“Quite clear it was, he had Dissociative Identity Disorder; split personality, you may call it. He lived two personalities, and neither knew of the other one. Did not remember the times when he lived the other personality. At the point of the career he was, I decided to keep quiet about it. Instead, I gave him medicines, which would keep his wilder side tranquil. And now, I am really sorry that he was not told the truth.

“That night, he had some important work, that’s why he took the shortcut. In the hurry, he did not take the medicines-”

Roger stopped in mid sentence. A thought struck him which deeply grieved him. He continued, “By the way, have you heard about the homicidal maniac who would murder people in those very roads, the shortcut which you took?”
“What?” Mr. Ferguson exclaimed.

“Well, I just realized…….just realized that James was the homicidal maniac, that is, the wilder side of his. Now, what I tell you after this, is guesswork, which should be, more or less, true. The quieter side of James must have heard the story about a maniac lingering, which scared him. Anyways, he proceeded with the shortcut. Now, I wonder if you know but police found signs of a tiny accident. You say, when you saw his car, it was scathed. Well, that proves the point. He _did_ have a tiny accident, and there, he shed some blood and then, began his doom. His violent side woke up and now, both his personalities co-existed. His mind began playing games with him. I really pity his condition in the car at that time. He must have been stiff scared and baffled to death. He must be having frightening hallucinations; lost in his thoughts, he did not see your car or the big tree. Before, the accident, he must be holding the knife in one of his hands and he still had it when he was thrown out of the car. And then, we all know what happened.
“That was the curious case of James Rutherford and a sad one at that!” Roger sighed and wiped off a tear.

After a few minutes, when Mr. Ferguson was about to leave, Roger said, “Well, this incident proves an old saying.”

“And that is?”

“Never take shortcuts!”
*The End!*

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## Nikhar

Kindly forgive the cliches. Reading it just after two minutes, I do think I could have improved it a great deal. Though, I would appreciate your comments truly.

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