Unfinished

A lighthearted story based on authors not finishing their series

These short stories are entirely fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

I had just finished my twenty fifth short story. This called for a celebration!, I thought. So, I poured myself a drink. After the second glass, I was questioning myself “What was I celebrating exactly?” I did not have an agent anymore.

After the first one, none of my other stories were picked up by any magazine or publication.

Generic rejection letters were all that I received and sometimes not even those.

On top of that I left my job on a whim after my first story was published in a prestigious magazine. God only knows what I was thinking when I made that decision.

I always thought I possessed a creative streak. My first story was based on a funny incident at work.I wrote it just for fun. Then my friends and family egged me on to submit it for publication. Which I did and was pleasantly surprised when it was picked up by one of the leading literary magazines. Sometimes these early successes are deceptive.

Anyways, no point crying over spilled milk.

My wife and kid were not home. They had gone to India to attend a wedding. I was supposed to join them a week later, just in time for the wedding.

Drunk and frustrated, I decided to take a nap. I woke up hungry and with a headache . After popping an Advil, I opened the refrigerator and found that there was nothing there. Cursing myself , I resigned myself to the idea that I will need to step out in the cold and get some food .

The supermarket was little over half a mile from my place. It was twilight, the time of the day when the world is moving from light to dark, yet not fully there.

I decided to walk to the store. Getting some clean air won’t hurt, I reasoned. Instead of taking the usual route, I took a more circuitous route . This one bypassed the main streets, instead it was just a combination of multiple alleyways.

I was humming one of the new bollywood songs that was all the rage and on my way when I noticed someone in one of the alley ways.

An old woman was struggling to carry her groceries home. As I watched, she stumbled and fell, her groceries were strewn all over the alleyway.

I rushed to help her. I picked her up and then gathered all the scattered items . Finally I managed to get most of the stuff back in the bag. The vegetables had weird shapes. I noticed.

The old lady thanked me.

Until then, I was so busy that I had not taken a look at her. I acknowledged her words and looked back at her.

There was something different about her. What exactly I could not say.

She said “Young man thanks for helping me out”.

I laughed and said “first of all , I am not really a young man, and second it was my duty”.

“Well you are younger than me !”She replied.

I offered to carry her groceries to her house and she agreed after a round of polite protest.

We walked to her house, there was something unusual about the way she walked, or rather hobbled. I figured it must be due to some old age related ailment and ignored it.

We chatted about random things, weather, traffic, rising prices, as we made our way through a labyrinth of alleys. I made a mental note to turn on Google Maps to find my way back.

After some time, we reached her house, which was at the cul-de-sac of a quiet street. The house was a small craftsman style home, old but well maintained.

Nina, that was her name, invited me to come inside for a cup of coffee. I tried to decline politely but she insisted. At last I agreed.

When we stepped inside , there was a weird musty smell. I kept the groceries in the kitchen, which like the rest of the house seemed to be stuck in a time warp from the 1970’s.

Nina smiled “The house and its decor is old school, like me”.

She went to the kitchen to make coffee for us both. I helped carry the coffee mugs into the living room. The sofa was of the same 1970s vintage with a floral pattern, there was a giant grandfather’s clock at one end of the room.

We sat down sipping coffee and talking.

Then, out of nowhere , Nina asked “So what do you want?”

The question was so abrupt and off the cuff that it caught me off guard.

“You mean from life?” I asked.

She simply nodded “Yes”.

Her tone had changed. It was harsher and sharper, sounded like someone much younger .

“I know all about you,” She continued.

“But how?” I managed to ask.

She let our a shrill laugh. Then she stood up.

“Who do you think I am !?” She asked

I finally noticed her legs, they were inverted , bent backward at the knees !.

A chill crept through my spine. So this was the reason for the unusual gait, not old age

The world around me stopped for a second.

“I am sorry” I stammered ”I did not mean any disrespect . Please let me go” .

She laughed again , one of those creepy high pitched laughs and said “You are lucky that I am in a good mood tonight . And you were actually nice to me”

She looked at me , suddenly her voice softened as if toying with me.

“I know you are a writer, that too a struggling one, as if there were not enough of those!”

“How do you know” I stopped myself from asking, as I knew the answer.

“I will grant you something…” She said,

Still in shock I nodded, mentally I was only thinking of ways to get out of the house.

“I grant you to have one successful series, anything you write in this series will be wildly popular. You will get money, recognition and adulation” She paused

Then with a nasty smile she added “However you will die within a month of finishing the series”

She continued while chuckling “ You see I can’t be all goody goody, that’s just not in our nature”.

I gulped , my mind was still processing everything that she said.

“Thank you, Nina” I said in a trembling voice.”I am really grateful for this and I promise if you let me go , I will not tell anyone about this “.

She threw her head back and laughed a hearty laugh at my stupidity

“Oh yeah !, and who is going to believe you when you say that you encountered a Churail in America?”

The tone changed again.

“Now run, before I change my mind. Run you stupid little vermin!” She shouted.

I ran for my life, I ran until my legs gave out.I stopped to catch my breath. I was not sure where I was, nor was I sure if what just happened was real or not .

I just stood there for a while . Slowly I gained my composure . I turned on Google Maps, gave my address then dutifully followed the suggested path to reach home. I

did not raise my eyes for a single moment, too scared to make eye contact with anyone else . My neighbor greeted me , I just grunted and went inside. I poured myself a drink, ordered some food via uber eats and sat down, still in shock.

Did this really happen? Was it a hallucination? I thought while sipping my drink.

As soon as the food delivery guy arrived, I gobbled the pizza that I had ordered, washed it with whatever remained in the glass. I did not want to think anymore , I just went to bed and forced myself to sleep.

I woke up the next morning,with a headache but the incident of the previous evening seemed like a bad dream. And I convinced myself that’s what it was , a bad dream, it never happened.

My flight to India was in another few days. I drove to the store, got some basic groceries - bread , eggs , butter ,some vegetables and returned home and had toast and strong coffee.

Suddenly the headache was gone and my mind felt really clear. I sat down and opened my laptop. The idea and words just flowed. I leveraged the nightmare from the previous day to write my first novel “The Witches of Monmouth County”.

I kept on writing at a feverish pitch till I left for the airport and continued writing in the plane itself, till we reached India. I had the first draft ready by the time the plane touched down at the Delhi Airport.

I reached home, hugged my wife and son tightly. “Are you ok? Is everything fine?” my wife asked.

I said “yes all good, how are the wedding arrangements going? ”

We soon got busy in the hustle and bustle of a traditional big fat Indian wedding.

After the festivities were over, I shared the draft version of my first novel with my wife. She had always been the first reader , critique and support system for me.

She started reading and was soon engrossed in “The Witches of Monmouth County”. She kept on reading non stop. Finally she finished, did not say a word and just hugged me.

“Wow!That was something! This is definitely your best work so far! I loved it !” She said all excited.

That’s how it started.

Once we were back in the US, I sent excerpts to three literary agents . All three replied. I finally signed with the most prominent one.

We pitched the book to several leading publishers, which triggered a bidding war.

Finally I signed a three book deal for a significant amount.

.

Everything was on track, The book was a smash hit and established me as the breakout star in the horror genre, the next Stephen King they anointed me.

Then came the book tours, interviews, followed by a movie deal.

Life was good and everything seemed to be heading in the right direction. Yet at the back of my mind, I remembered the incident with Nina once in a while. But chose to ignore it.

After a year, the second book in the series “Witches with Riches” was released. It was an even bigger success.

The publishers scheduled book signing tours for me across the country.

The schedule was brutal, airports, hotels, book stores, endless smiling and signing.

It was at the fag end of one such signing event that I saw her. I did a double take, it was Nina and she was smirking.

I could feel sweat dripping from my forehead . She was in the line, slowly but surely the line moved ,my heart started pounding faster and faster as she came closer and closer.

Finally she was standing in front of me, still smirking with a hard cover copy of “Witches with Riches” in her hand.

“Can you please sign it for me , Mr Big Shot Author!” she said in a mocking voice and then whispered “I hope you remember me, you little runt!”

I gulped and nodded, speechless and scared.

She handed me the book and said “Make it out to Nina” then added “Hmm so it’s a trilogy and two books done in a year and half ! Great going, you hope you remember our deal”

I signed the book and then looked back at her with pleading eyes.

“Ha! You thought it was all a dream! Enjoy your success while you are alive! Have fun till then!” Nina said and left the store still smirking.

That night, I could not sleep in my hotel room. The truth that I had tried to ignore that I had tried to erase from my memory as a bad dream was back. The clock was ticking , two books were done, and it was going to be the end after writing one more book. My heart sank, I lost the will to live.

When I got home, my wife could see the tension on my face. She asked me what was wrong, I avoided the topic and just hugged her and my son, trying to savor the last few days with my loved ones.

After a few days of keeping quiet, amid relentless questioning and prodding from my wife, I finally broke down. I cried and told her the whole story from the beginning, the walk to the supermarket, a chance encounter with an old lady and how she granted me a boon with a condition attached.

She listened incredulous at the turn of events .I could see that she did not fully believe it.

Then I told her about the book signing incident. Irrespective of whether she believed or not, she could see the fear in my eyes and the fact that I believed in it.

She said “Give me sometime to think, I am sure we can come up with some solution”

I nodded and said “sure, please take your time”.

The next morning , while we were having our morning tea, she said “I thought about what you told me yesterday and have a few questions. Can you think and answer”

I agreed.

“So as per the deal, if you finish the series you will die within a month, right?”

“Correct” I replied

“If and when you finish the trilogy, the month starts from then?”

“Yes”

“Now humor me, what happens if you don’t finish the series?”

“Well then the publishers are going to be after my life, remember I signed a three book deal with them. I owe them one more book.”

“I owe them one more book” I repeated finally getting where this was heading.

She smiled “Exactly, you owe them one more book, it could be a prequel, it could be a parallel story about a minor character. Does not have to be the final book that ends the series.”

I beamed , let out a scream in joy and as I hugged her, I said “You have saved me , again”

The next day , I called my agent to renegotiate the contract, that instead of finishing the trilogy, I will write two additional books set in the same witches universe.

I wrote, those books were also a big success. And guess who I saw at the signing events, Nina!

She was smirking as she came to get her copy signed “You sneaky bastard! I will get you one way or other” she hissed. I just smiled and said “A deal is a deal, my dear Nina”

It’s been fifteen years since then and I still have not finished the trilogy. People ask me about my plans to finish the series. I just say “Still working on it, maybe in another ten years!”