DELIVER US FROM EVIL - THE MOST CHILLING THRILLER OF THIS YEAR

CHAPTER 3

Rudraman Maurya saw the body nailed to the tree. It wasn't what he had anticipated.

He studied, first year Philosophy Honours in St. Stephen's College, which was situated right opposite to the Delhi Ridge. Most kids from North Campus would go there to chill, to roll joints, make out or drink. Delhi Ridge was large in its canvas, stretching to corners and crevices that were yet to be explored. It was filled with bushes, twigs, canopies and all types of flora. It also had shacks and temples and old monuments that now lay shattered. One can get lost in such wilderness; and not just physically.

Rudra would go to a watchtower, which now lies dilapidated. It was made of red kiln bricks, with iron-grilled windows. And he would be accompanied with two of his batch mates, Viraj and Proteeti.

Viraj was the usual stereotypical stoner with noodle like hair, dangling over his creased forehead and around the nape of his neck, like an umbrella. He had vintage spectacles, half pulled down his nose, and a caustic tongue in his black lipped mouth. Mostly, he would be in his loose printed t-shirts that he would buy from Sarojini Nagar at throwaway prices.

Rudra would be forced to walk with Viraj, even though he didn't like being stoned in the middle of the day. And Proteeti would just be an additional persuasive measure. Just for company, Rudra would stand with them, while they smoked up.

Proteeti, on the other hand, shouldn't be here. At least, according to her parents. But she lived in the college hostel and had a pretty awesome life, without any supervision or conservativeness enclosing her to captivity. She had vicious parents, or at least a father who was that way. She wouldn't talk about it, but she had a lot of scars on her body that spoke volumes. Proteeti Roy was the typical Bengali girl, if there would ever be any with sleek eyes, thin lips, and straight shoulder length hair. She would often wear kurtas and denims that went well with her ebony chappals. And her jhola was like a Mary Poppin bag, from where she pulled out everything she would need or others would need. She was always ready. And that was both creepy and good, in some circumstances.

Rudra wasn't a part of their conversation that involved Ligotti as their philosopher, when clearly he was the greater horror fanatic among the three. They talked, while he tapped his feet, crossed his arms and hummed thoughtfully, until he caught the scent. It was not a scent, but more of a stench, that he picked up from the surroundings. It smelled like the time he found a dead rat behind his cabinet. It was pungent and raw.

"You smell that?" Proteeti was the one who began. "It smells dead."

"A dog or something must have died."

"Or a cow—I have seen cows,"

"They are buffaloes."

"No, they are cows, pagol chhele." Proteeti growled.

They began quarrelling over who died, when Rudra walked in the direction of the stench. He passed the trodden stony path, and slowly mustered his way through the leaves which he trampled with his hard hitting feet. He passed a few banyan trees to finally reach what looked like a thorny gateway, made up of twigs and branches, scrapped out of trees. It was big enough to conceal what lay beyond that, but narrow enough for someone to walk through it. He crouched, going beyond the long gate that went like a tunnel. He ended up on the other side, as he whisked some bushes aside and went forward, almost hitting the muddy floor. He had entered into a circular clearing where shattered rocks and scraps of monuments were sprawled across the recess along with leaves and pebbles.

There lay a beautiful spectacle of the peepal tree; like veins, it stretched out to so many parts of the canopy, finally becoming a huge umbrella like design near the top.

And right there, hammered to the trunk of the peepal tree, was a girl.