This is my first attempt at writing a short story (2500-3000 words).
The Girl in the blue scarf
The blade of the knife in her hand, glinted in the moonlight, as she moved deliberately towards me. Her face was partly hidden by the shadows and the blue scarf covering her head, with only her eyes visible. Her soft honey brown eyes that had once captivated me with their depth, were now staring at me with the savageness of a beast.
She had seen me crouching behind the bushes and her intention was clear. I knew her secret, and now she was going to make sure I wouldn’t live to tell anyone else. I tried to stand up and run, but my legs seemed to be in a panic of their own. I fell to the ground in pain and I realised that I had twisted my ankle badly. I stood rooted to the spot, paralysed by fear. She was now standing over me, her knife drawn. A sharp gasp escaped me as her face was illuminated by the moonlight exposing a grotesque rubbery and disfigured section of her face. She looked like a character out of the horror and serial killer movies I so often enjoyed watching.
“Noooo…” a pathetic cry escaped my lips. I shut my eyes tightly like a traumatized child, as she brought the knife down towards my torso. In a last-ditch attempt, I turned my body and tried to roll myself from under the attack that I knew was coming.
There was a thud and a sharp pain in my arm.
I opened my eyes, my heart thundering in my chest. I am still alive, I realised. The girl was nowhere to be seen. For a few moments I could not understand where I was or what was happening.
“It's a nightmare,” I exhaled in relief as I realised that I had fallen off the bed in my attempt to roll away from the murderer.
“Keshav, are you all right? I heard you shout…” my flatmate Prashant knocked at my locked bedroom door.
“Yes Pashu, I am fine. I just had a nightmare, that’s all. Don’t worry.” I answered him, without bothering to open the door. I did not want him to see the dishevelled, sweaty state I was in.
“Oh, with the number of gory crime novels you read and horror movies you watch…they are bound to haunt you at night. Try not to wet your bed ok?” he chuckled as he walked back to his room.
“Jerk,” I called him. He was always mocking me for my love of crime and horror novels. He was the least interested in books or reading. Knowing him for almost four years now, I had deduced that he had only two interests 1) Video games 2) Girls.
Actually if I think about it, he is the reason I am in the current situation. If it weren’t for him, I would never have met ‘her’. “The girl in the blue scarf,” that is what Pashu had called her when we first saw her. I remember thinking it was an interesting name, like something out of a novel: A mysterious maiden with beautiful expressive eyes. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that behind the façade of those soft eyes, was a girl capable of Murder.
************
It was more than a year ago but I remember quite well, the day I first met her. It was the first day of vacations after my fourth Semester of I.T Engineering, and I had dragged an unwilling Prashant to the Public Library.
“Dude, Counter-Strike!” he had pleaded, referring to the popular multiplayer shooting game we often spent time playing.
“Come on let's go. They will start playing without us. Can’t you get your stupid book some other time? It's the freaking first day of vacation!” He had continued to buzz in my ears till I headed out the library, finally having found the book that I wanted to read.
“You are such a Nerd. Come on Dude, get a life or else you will never get a girlfriend.” He kept taunting me.
“I am not a Nerd OK. Having an actual interest and not pathetically chasing girls does not make me a nerd. And even if I am, haven’t you heard the phrase: “Nerds are the new cool,” I had snapped at him.
“Is that so? Then why don’t you put your cool switch ON now? Get the number of that girl in the blue scarf over there and I will admit that you have got it,” He had challenged me.
I had looked up to see a slender girl, around 5’3 standing a few feet away near the two-wheeler parking section. She wore a blue kurta on jeans and a matching scarf was tied around her face. She had her back towards us, as she tried to get her Scooty out, without scraping the haphazardly parked bikes around it.
Normally I would have just ignored Pashu but that day, I was just not in the mood to listen to his put-downs. And even though I wasn’t confident, I had approached her.
“Excuse me; do you need help moving the bike out-of-the-way?” I said.
She had turned around and looked at me. Her beautiful honey-brown eyes, the only part of her face that was visible under the scarf, looked me up and down and I became rather self-conscious. At 5 feet 8 inches with a normal build, wheatish complexion and rimless glasses over my dark eyes I was just an average looking guy.
She accepted my offer to help although a bit warily. I could understand that. Indian girls often misinterpreted help offered by unknown guys as an attempt to flirt with them. Although one can’t blame them for their prejudice as fifty percent of the times, it is actually just a ruse to start a conversation. I immediately dropped any further plans to chat her up and decided that I would rather take Pashu’s taunts than be one of those guys. After I had helped her by moving the other bike out of her way, she thanked me and I was about to go when she called out.
“Is that ‘The Murders by Day’ by Ruthie Allan Shaw?”
“Yes,” I replied, surprised that she had recognized the book just by the back cover. Most girls I knew were not a fan of this genre of books. It turned out that she was a big fan of the author and was waiting to read this book. But as there was only one copy, it was always lent out when she came. We discussed a few of our favourite works by the author. I offered to let her know when I came to return it so that she could take it right away, and just like that she had given me her e-mail address.
“Hey, wait! What is your name? Girl in the blue scarf...” I had called out as she pulled out of the gates. She stopped a few feet away and turned around. “Girl in Blue scarf, is enough for now”, she waved, a laugh playing at her eyes.
Over time our e-mail communication turned to online chatting and we shared our interests with each other. It was just like some cheesy movie: two strangers bonding over a common interest over the Internet. And just like that we became friends. Well, at least in the virtual world. She had still not revealed her name and we kept chatting under Pseudonyms. I had seen her display picture that seemed to have been taken a few years earlier perhaps in her mid-teens and noticed that she was an attractive girl. It was clear that she did not want to share her identity yet. I too was content with having a friend who shared my interests and did not try to pry. She would get all uneasy and distant if any conversation went close to her personal life, so after the first few times, I never strayed that way. Although after a while, I began to wonder what all the mystery was about and told her that I would one day find out her identity and surprise her when she least expected it. She had laughed and accepted the challenge.
So when the opportunity to find out more about her presented itself that evening, I jumped up to seize it. What I didn’t know then was that I would be the one who would end up being shocked.
************
I had just come out of the Xerox shop having photocopied all the notes for this semester exams when I saw her across the road. I caught just a glimpse of her face from one side, but I was sure it was her because I recognized her ‘Scooty’ and her favourite blue silk scarf loosely draped around her face. I crossed the road as fast as possible in the evening traffic, but she had already reached quite far. I quickened my pace, hoping to catch up with her and find out if she lived nearby.
She was almost sprinting now and kept looking over her shoulder as if fearing pursuit. I wondered why she left her bike parked so far away if she wasn’t going nearby. I ducked around a corner as she turned around. She was acting really strange. There was something fishy going on here, and the sleeping detective in me had woken up. It was getting dark and I was easily able to hide in the shadows of trees and bushes. She stopped outside a house just down the road from the famous Starbucks cafe and pulled out her cell phone.
“I have reached. Get ready,” I heard her say as she went and knocked at the door. A seedy looking man opened the door and stepped back, inviting her in. Just as I was debating whether to stop her from entering the house or not, she pulled a knife from her handbag and held it behind her back as she stepped inside. Alarmed yet curious I crouched under the curtained window to see what was going on inside. There was a small gap between the curtains from which I could see a part of the room.
For a while I didn’t see them and could just hear muffled talking. But then I heard the man yell something and everything happened so fast that I couldn’t believe my eyes. I saw both of them struggle for a few seconds and before I could even process it, she had brought the knife slashing down across his chest. He had collapsed to the floor unconscious or perhaps even dead, his shirt rapidly soaking in blood. She hurriedly wrapped the bloody knife in her scarf and headed to the door. I hid myself behind a tree and saw her walk out the main door, down the street, and into the nearby Starbucks Cafe. I quietly followed her.
She sat in the Starbucks cafe, sipping her coffee and staring out of the window. The blood stained knife lay next to her handbag, covered with her blue silk scarf. I could see her through the large glass windows of the cafe; her face partly hidden by strands of her long dark hair. I wondered how anyone could be so calm just a few minutes after stabbing someone. At first I thought that it was self-defence, but then I had seen a few men with guns running towards the house just a few seconds after we left. I began to wonder if she was a part of some criminal gang.
Just as I decided to go, she moved her head and the curtain of hair fell back from her left cheek. I stood rooted to the spot stunned at the sight of the rubbery patch of burned skin on her once rosy cheek. I stared at her face just as she glanced in my direction and our eyes met. Her eyes widened in surprise as she recognized me and then narrowed as she saw my expression. Maybe she realised what I had seen. I turned around and rushed back home without glancing back at her, my head reeling from the events of that night.
************
Here I was, reading the morning newspaper after a night of tossing and turning.
“Acid Attack Victim helps Police nab her Perpetrator” The headline screamed as the photo of the girl made me cringe.
It was her; the girl in the blue scarf. I read about how she had been a victim of cyber stalking which later led to an acid attack. How she had found the culprit, set up a trap with the help of the police, recorded his confession and got the man arrested. It was the same man that I had seen last night and he was injured but alive. The more I read the story the more remorse I felt at the way I had acted. I had jumped to conclusions without knowing the whole story and judged her; a person whose friend I claimed to be. Now I understood why she had been so paranoid about revealing her identity especially to someone over the internet. Perhaps she also feared the reaction of people, the moment that scar was seen. Sometimes we unintentionally judge people and hurt them with our actions. But sometimes circumstances are such that we don’t realise what we are doing.
I decided that I would try to make things right with her. I sent her many e-mails apologizing for my behaviour, but she did not reply. I guess I will just have to keep trying. Perhaps one day she will finally be able to forgive me.
It’s funny how things turn out. Sometimes we chase something really hard and then when we actually find it, it does not matter anymore. Like in my case: After all this suspense and drama I had finally learned her name through the newspaper but I would always remember her as, “The girl in the blue scarf.”
**********
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