“I am not like Harpreet, what she did was disgraceful. I am not having an affair, and I most certainly do not want your money. I am with you because I love you. Can you remember when I saw you in that state and you told me all about it; it was love at first sight for me. I will not shoot you and leave you to die. I did, and I still do-I love you. Can’t we forget about what’s happened? Can’t we get back to how we were befor...?” Simran explained in vain. Gurdeep raged.
“Things will be the same again, that trust has gone. That bond that kept us together has vanished. What makes you think I will go out with a slutty little tart like you now? I don’t love you no more!” Gurdeep had a desperate look about him, a look which suggested he had regretted what he just said. Tears dropped down the cheeks of Simran. She turned her face towards the right door, so Sandeep couldn’t see her in this state.
“I’m sorr…” Gurdeep said in a vague tone. Until he caught a glimpse of Simrans tears. He went to Comfort her. Gurdeep slowly moved his left arm, which was a tanned brown colour, towards Simran’s knee. Simran felt Gurdeep’s arm gently touching her upper leg. Simran Slowly turned her face, which had a mix of make-up and tears, towards Gurdeep. Gurdeep moved his arm off Simran’s leg. Gurdeep smiled at Simran. The weak smile Simran had on her face vanished. Simran was worried Sandeep might have one of his anger tantrums; Gurdeep had a Genetic disease called Microfilaria. Surprisingly Gurdeep wiped Simran’s tears with his hands.
“I love you” Simran cheerfully told Gurdeep.
“I love you too” Gurdeep replied.
Gurdeep’s head gradually moved closer to Simran’s. Simran’s head gradually moved closer to Gurdeep’s. Simran’s lips, which had dark red lipstick on them, moved towards Gurdeep’s. Gurdeep’s lips moved towards Simran’s. Simran had accomplished her aim, she had got Gurdeep back. Simran thought her marriage was saved.
Gurdeep and Simran began to question if they were on the right route. Delhi was supposed to be 300 miles away from Punjab, where the couple set off. But the Mile timer now read 307 miles. The fuel checker was also on red.
“Where are we, we’re almost out of fuel, we were meant to reach Delhi 7 miles ago.” Simran explained.
“I don’t know” Gurdeep was trying to keep his anger under control. “I do know how to read the fuel and mile display.” Gurdeep’s anger, again, began to get the better of him. “It’s your fault we are lost, you b***h” Gurdeep lost control again.
The car stopped, it was out of fuel, and there was not a person in sight. There were just long overgrown fields; a sense of isolation surrounded the couple. “Help” Gurdeep put his hand on his chest. He was rubbing the area around his heart. “I can’t breathe” Gurdeep whispered. “What should I do?” Simran thought to herself. She rushed to get some water, from the bonnet of the car. The doctor had told Simran, that Gurdeep could get a heart attack if put in conditions where he is under too much stress, because of his Microfilaria condition.
“Help me” Gurdeep screamed, tears of pain were running down his cheeks.
“I’m going to find help darling. I’ll be back in no time. Don’t worry, everything will be okay.”
“leave aaa traail babe, and also leave the car keys in my right hand pocket. Be careful, I have heard this is a ghost town.” Gurdeep ordered Simran.
Simran went off in search of medical help, food and shelter. She was left thinking if this was the last time she would see Gurdeep. She rushed across country roads. It seemed like they had not been used in years. Simran kept a trail of scrap paper as she went. The sun was setting.
“I’m sorry Simran. I have lied to you, forgive me.” Gurdeep’s hand moved away from his chest, where his supposed pain was. His slimy, lanky hands moved to the cars locker. “I’m sorry Simran,” Gurdeep shouted in a viciously, sarcastic voice. There was a small grin appearing on Gurdeep’s face. Gurdeep got out a black, oversized hat. It was a winter hat that was not needed in the hot humid weather of India. There were three holes in the hat, like the Disney logo. (The Disney logo has two dots at the top, one in the centre of those two dots below)
Simran ploughed through some woods, as the derelict road came to an end. She shortly caught sight of a mansion; it was disguised with over grown plants. Simran ran towards the great building. She reached the entrance. A dark, humongous, wooden door was in front of her. There was no time to knock, Simran rushed into the Mansion.
Gurdeep had by now put the black hat on, it covered all his face. Gurdeep’s hands then moved towards the car’s locker again. He got a pair of, black, leather gloves out. “Muhahaha,” was the sound that erupted from Gurdeep’s mouth. Gurdeep’s right hand slowly moved to his right hand pocket. He got out the car keys. “You did not realize that the fuel sign is broken Sim! Muhahahaha,” Gurdeep shouted in an evil tone. Gurdeep then attempted to start the car. The car started.
“Hello? Is there anyone there? ” Simran questioned. Simran moved further and further into the dark, lonely, mansion. There were cobwebs dangling from the ceilings. An un-hygienic smell polluted the long corridor. Simran was becoming worried. “My Husband is dieing, help me!”
Cunningly, Gurdeep followed the trail Simran has left behind. The slimy Gurdeep had told Simran to leave this trail behind. “Is she stupid, or what? This will be her last act of moronism.” Gurdeep got to the end of the country road. Gurdeep was wondering where Simran could have gone.
Simran caught a glimpse of a shining light. She began to move towards it. The light was seemingly wandering around. Simran then observed it through the top of her glasses.
Gurdeep opened the right hand door of the car. He was sliming towards the bonnet, of the red and rusty vehicle. The Bonnet creaked open. Gurdeep got out a black bag; the jaded bag seemed to have something inside it. Gurdeep was wearing a black hat, which covered all his face, to disguise himself. He carefully placed the black bag in to his pocket, using his hands, which had dark leather gloves on them. Gurdeep advanced; he was following the trail left by Simran.
Simran slowly crawled towards the wandering, shiny light. Simran’s left hand, which has a tattoo labeled “Gurdeep” on it, moved towards her head. She scratched her long black hair. She whispered to herself “Am I going mad?”
Gurdeep moved closer to where Simran was. He was like a wolf chasing his prey. Gurdeep caught sight of the 17th century mansion. “Excellent, this is where Harpreet (Gurdeep’s ex-wife) suffered the same fate,” Gurdeep exclaimed.
Gurdeep had met Simran in an Indian bar, just couple of weeks before they got married. There he told her what had supposedly happened between him and Harpreet. According to Gurdeep he had just got married and his wife took him to a deserted country mansion. Harpreet had shot Gurdeep and left him to die, for his money. Harpreet was/is number 7 on the Indian rich list. Simran is number 9 on the Indian rich list. No one has seen Harpreet since she supposedly “shot Gurdeep,” she is thought to be on the run.
Gurdeep’s right hand slowly, like a snake sliming through the desert, reached for his right hand pocket. Gurdeep got out the black bag, and opened it. The bag seemed as if it has seen better years, it was jaded. Gurdeep got out the object inside it. It was a gun.
Simran realized that she was not going to find much help in the dark, deserted mansion. Water was dripping from the ceiling of the corridor. “creeeeek eeeeeeee” was the sound Simran heard. You could just about see Simran beautiful red lips, in the darkness of the corridor. The hallway was getting darker and darker. The little light there was had almost disappeared. The front door had shut. All Simran could see was the shadow of herself, and something else.
“HELP!” she shrieked. The shadow was growing. Was she being followed, in the dark, 17th century mansion? Were the rumours of the town being haunted true? These were some of the thoughts Simran was going through, in her rather confused head. Silence, darkness and a smell of fear surrounded the rather chubby figure of Simran, in the long unusual corridor. She could hear every step she made, and every breath she took. Simran was terrified of what might be behind her. She didn’t have the courage to look back. Sweat was dripping down her face, like tear drops. Simran felt as if she was being chased by a snake, in the hot and humid, Sahara desert. “AaHH!” Simran screamed, at the top of her voice. There was a long echo. What had made the normally, ice cold, Simran scream like that?
Suddenly the ancient mansion’s lights turned back on. Simran, who was 19 years old, lay on the floor floor. A red liquid dripped from the back of her head. It looked like blood. The unique smile still remained on the face of Simran. Her eyes were open, but she was not blinking. Her body lay in a frozen state.
“We will never hear the sound of b**tch number two again,” a voice whispered. The creepy voice was coming from a balcony, which looked down to the hallway. The still figure of Simran still lay in the hallway. Gurdeep was inside the mansion, next to the door. Simran had entered the mansion, through that door. It was the last door Simran opened, before the incident.
“Who are you?!” Gurdeep shouted.
“I am what I am,” replied the person on the balcony.
“Come forward at once!” Gurdeep demanded.
“No, I will not. I will not listen to you again,” replied the woman.
“HARPREET!” Gurdeep shouted in rage and confusion. “But errr you werrr wat hahappenedd. Howw arre youu?”
“It’s not that easy to get rid of me! You thought I was dead. You tried to kill me, you said you loved me!” Harpreet replied. Gurdeep was speechless. He was holding a gun in his hand. Harpreet was also holding a gun in her hand. Harpreet was tall, about 5 feet 11 inches. She had straight black hair. “I did it before you, didn’t I? You were going to kill Simran, like you tried to kill me. I killed her. Now it’s your turn. You will pay.” Simran pointed her black gun towards Gurdeep. She fired. Gurdeep instantly fell to the ground. Gurdeep lay dead.
“Well done, you should be acting in Bollywood. What did you do with the tomato ketchup?” Harpreet sarcastically exclaimed. Who was she talking to? Gurdeep lay dead on the floor. Blood was dripping from his heart. The still figure of Simran also lay on the floor. Simran was laying head first on the ground. There was a little twitch in her left leg. The blood-like liquid was still visible on her head.
“I know I should. I accidentally dropped the ketchup on my head. I hope you’re not angry? ” Simran sarcastically replied.
