Black Diary

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
Story is a narrative. The plot tries to uncover the murders and unfold the bizarre coincidences of the black diary

Submitted: May 03, 2012

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Submitted: May 03, 2012



Black Diary


Have you ever wondered why do murderers get caught? The reason is theirs is a hate crime, they know their targets and the hatred gets the better of them. They tend to leave enough clues behind to get caught and the fact that they know their target is a clue in itself. A perfect crime is just an idea, a notion which needs to be explored.

The tale is about 4 guys, 4 regular 20 year olds trying to find their place in this crazy old world. Aman, a little immature, but he adds fun to this otherwise dull group. Being born and brought up in Delhi, heart of India, he gels well with everyone and has that zing usually associated with the people of Delhi. Ayaan, the rich brat, Dad is a businessman and has no qualms in spending as much as he can on his only son. Ayaan is a true Mumbaikar, a city that never sleeps, and neither does he, he is quite a hit amongst the girls. Sahil, the tough guy of the group, had a terrible childhood and has built this tough exterior, probably a defense mechanism to save him from the horrors of the past. And finally me Rahul, a simple guy bought up by a middle class family in Delhi. Fate had bought all of us together in xyz university of US, Illinois. I call it fate because seldom you see such like-minded group of people of same ethnicity especially in a city like Illinois.

We met at the orientation program and within in no time saw ourselves chatting about the faction of girls sitting in the row adjacent to ours. Talking about girls is an official ice breaker for any group of guys, and being Indians and setting foot in US for the first time we were extremely overwhelmed and excited about the talent in our batch. We also drew comfort from the fact that we were from India and there weren’t any surprises as far as mannerisms and general conduct is concerned.  We managed to clutch to each other’s attention throughout the orientation session and soon realized that we all were hunting for a residence. I had this beautiful place in mind but had to forego it because of the hefty rent, I bought it up during the discussion and succeeded in getting them interested. We had a look at the place the next morning and I won’t lie I was extremely excited, I could picture myself living there. I especially loved the attic there, it wasn’t all dark and spooky like they show in the movies, it was a nice little congenial place and gave me that cozy feeling, a sense of nostalgia. I felt like I was back at my granny’s house and I could sense her warmth. Visits to my granny’s was the only thing I remembered from my childhood, my mum told me that I met with an accident when I was nine and suffered with amnesia, I had no memory or recollection of my life before that and the only thing that stuck was my granny’s tender and affectionate persona and my frequent stay-over at her house.

We all sat for a beer after a hard day’s labor. I never thought moving could be such an exasperating task and I was physically drained out. A chilled lager helped me regain some of my strength and we all chatted for some time and called it a day.  Weekend was just round the corner and I had no plans, Aman was meeting his cousin and Ayaan had a crazy hot date on the weekend. He did invite me for a double date with her friend but I respectfully rejected. I was way too shy and got really awkward in front of girls so I decided to stay back and unwind in my sweet home. It wasn’t like I was alone, Sahil had no plans either. We decided to rent a movie over the weekend and went on a movie spree. I was a sucker for thriller flicks and we ended up watching three movies back to back. While going to bed that night the only thing that kept running through my head was the inanity of the murderers. How could the crimes be so brainless and ill-planned? The murderers would never have gotten caught if they had invested some brain in planning the murders. I took it upon myself to rectify their mistakes and sat down to write the perfect murder, a perfect crime.

I backtracked the crime, the clues and different ways in which an assassin can get caught. The first thing that caught my attention was the weapon. A criminal can be traced if the weapon like gun or a knife is purchased. I was trying hard to think out of the box and it struck me, I had read once that a combination of ammonia and bleach produces a gas which could be fatal and may cause death within seconds if consumed in large quantity. Bleach in no way can be considered a weapon and is easily available and ammonia is present in the urine. My head started bursting with ideas and the whole crime unfolded inside my brain and I couldn’t hold my enthusiasm any longer. I took the black diary lying on the table and vigorously started scribbling the murder. It was flawless, I was proud of my mind and decided to give it a rest and went off to sleep.

The dreaded Monday had arrived and I had no intentions of getting up and going to college. But the awful econ professor scares the hell out of me and I didn’t want to take any chances. I gathered the courage to get out of bed and get ready for, what I thought would be an uneventful day. I helped myself to the breakfast table and to my surprise none of my roommates were out of their rooms yet. Realizing that I was running ahead of the required schedule I poured a bowl of cereal for myself and was trying to find a place to sit on the sofa. Our house was a real mess, no one had the decency to clean up or even try to call a maid to do the job and I was pretty sure the stink would choke me to death. I took the room-freshner from the kitchen shelf and started spraying mindlessly until I could breathe again. I removed the empty packs of cheetos lying on the sofa and sat on whatever little place I could manage to find. The morning news on the local channel had jolted every bone of my body. They were reporting a casualty in the neighborhood and the similarities and details were uncanny. The deceased had inhaled mustard gas, a combination of ammonia and bleach. Cops had suspected this to be a murder as there were clear signs of forceful entry in the house. The whole day I was disturbed and couldn’t comprehend what had happened. I knew it couldn’t just be a coincidence but my mind wanted to prove me wrong. I took the black diary out of my drawer that night and started plotting another murder another master-plan and realized that I had a knack of it. The attention to details was astounding. My focus was again on weapon, a weapon which cannot be traced, a weapon which was never there. I had planned to use water as weapon, water in solid form. Ice if carved suitably could be a potential murderous weapon and in no way can be traced by any strength of imagination. The plan was genius, but I had this sinking feeling and I knew something was not right. I hoped it was all just a bad nightmare and tried sleeping it off.

My sleep was disturbed by the chattering down the hall. I could clearly hear Ayaan talking about Mr. Smith who stayed right across the street. I ran down and had no ideas what was about to hit me. Sahil told me to beware of suspected serial killer in the neighborhood and I felt like someone had hit me in my guts. My head was spinning and I felt nauseated hearing the morning news. It had happened, it wasn’t just a nightmare and certainly wasn’t a coincidence. Mr. Smith was murdered last night, he was stabbed thrice and there weren’t any traces of weapon used for the murder. I excused myself from college that day and stayed back trying to compose myself from that dreadful event which had rattled me beyond repairs. I was sure that someone had access to my black diary and it had to be someone amongst my three roommates. My head was bustling to find motives or reasons behind the killings which each of my roommates could have. I didn’t know them that well and failed to come up with anything against them. I finally decided to stay up the whole night and see if there was anything suspicious in the apartment. I pretended to sleep on the sofa to ensure that I don’t draw any unwanted attention. It must have been around midnight that I heard the door crackling down the hall and I saw Ayaan coming out of his room. He stepped out of the house in a hurry and took a cab. I tried keeping up with his pace and took another cab and followed him. My heart was about burst out of my chest, I felt that I was onto something. We were on the road for about 20 minutes when Ayaan’s cab took a sudden halt. I told the driver to stop the cab and park it around 100 meters from the other cab on the opposite side of the road. I had a clear view of Ayaan’s cab and saw him enter an apartment building. I ran after him like a Leopard trying to catch it’s pray. I was slightly anxious that the guard might catch me, but I was determined to enter the building. To my luck the guard was enjoying a nap and I rushed towards the elevator. The dial of lift screened number 6, I sprinted back to apartment entrance and instantaneously tried figuring out the window on the sixth floor. It wasn’t a tough task as that was the only room lightning the whole building. I could see Ayaan standing there making out with a girl which I was almost sure was that hot date he took out last weekend. I stayed there for few minutes making sure that Ayaan was innocent or at least not killing anyone that night and came back home thanking the dear Lord that I didn’t witness any murder.

The next morning still convinced that murderer was in the house, I kept my black diary on the center table and observed if it cultivates any strange behavior. I was within reachable distance from the diary for obvious reasons as I couldn’t let anyone see horrors inside it. Aman was particularly interested in that diary but for most parts seemed harmless. He was enquiring whether I write about my secret crushes in that diary. Ayaan was in his bedroom resting, probably tired from last night. Sahil had already left for college to attend the extra lecture and having not slept the whole night myself I took the day off and snoozed off in my bedroom. I woke up in the evening to an empty house. Ayaan had left a message on my cell phone inviting me to a party which Aman was also accompanying him to. I rejected the offer and saw the opportunity to find for any clues in the apartment. Sahil got back from the college and seemed exhausted. We ordered some Chinese and Sahil called it a day, went back to his room and I pretended to fell asleep in the hall while watching TV. Exactly an hour later Sahil came out of his room and asked me if I had the attic keys. He wanted to see if we had any tools in the attic as he wanted to fix his night lamp. Pretending that I was half asleep I told him that I had never seen the attic keys, switched off the TV and went back to sleep. Failing to locate the keys Sahil irately went to his room.

Couple of days went by and the dead calm was killing me. I knew it was upon me to make things happen. I realized the only key to finding the murderer was my diary. I had to pen down another murder, I had to devise another plan. My choice of weapon for this murder was drain cleaner. Again it doesn’t draw any undue attention and appears like lemonade. Consumed in large quantities it can cause death within no time. The plan was ready and so was I, I was prepared to grab the bastard this time. That night I again faked sleeping in front of the TV and it must have been around midnight when Sahil came out of his room. He again seemed searching for something and I saw him going upstairs to my room. He rushed to the kitchen took out the drain cleaner from the bottom shelf and dashed out of the house. My heart stopped beating for few seconds, I couldn’t believe what I just saw. I took a cab and started following him. I tried compiling my thoughts and everything became crystal clear. It was there in front my eyes and it had been there all along, I just didn’t see it. I remembered Sahil telling me once how his parents got divorced and he had trouble coping up with the whole situation. The terrible childhood rendered him a prime candidate to be a serial killer. He was the one who had warned me of a serial killer in town while none of reports on the news were pinning the murders to a serial killer. I kept following Sahil without any clue of what was about to come. To my astonishment Sahil stopped the car in front of a police station. Stunned to see Sahil’s car in the police station I told the driver to stop the cab. I tried understanding the motive behind and what was Sahil onto. After careful consideration of the situation I felt numbness running through my body. I was flabbergasted and at the same time petrified of his genius plan. He wanted to pin the murders on me to divert the attention of the cops, this would give him ample time and security to quench his thirst for another murder. I knew that the black diary could cause me lot of trouble and I had to get rid of the black diary. I went back home still not comprehending what had hit me I rushed to my room and decided to burn the evidence. I charged to my bedroom took the diary and sprinted to my kitchen. Just as I opened the stove the cops busted the door open and bordered me to the corner. I had no choice but to surrender myself against my will. All the noise and clattering had woken up Ayaan and Aman and while I was being hand cuffed I tried telling them that it was Sahil all along. My efforts were in vain as the situation was too overwhelming for them to understand what I was trying to say.

Next morning I woke up with a serious pain in my head and what was supposed to be a prison cell seemed to be a hospital room. I got up startled and baffled trying to get a grasp of the situation. I tried getting out of the bed but realized I was handcuffed to the hospital bed. I scanned the whole room and saw a familiar purse lying on the chair next to the bed. I was relieved to hear my mother’s voice coming from outside the room. I saw what seemed to some kind of report attached at the foot of the bed. I gathered some strength to get the report and because I was handcuffed I had to reach for the report. I opened the report and was bewildered to see what was in there. It read “Dissociative identity disorder”, it felt like someone had ripped my heart and smeared it all over my face. My body was numb, I was the one, it was me who had killed those innocent people. My mother entered the room and tried hugging and consoling me, but I was in a state of shock, my whole life had just been re-written by Satan himself. I felt my head would burst open and the room seemed to be spinning vigorously.

I woke up after few hours after passing out and my mother was sitting right next to me. I wept for hours and begged for explanation from my mother. Her answers shook me to the very core. My mother was married to someone else and I was born from her first marriage. My father was a twisted bastard and used to beat her up. He used to thrash me as well and hence the reason of my frequent visits to granny’s. Once I was beaten up so fiercely that I had to be hospitalized, my mother divorced the guy and I suffered from amnesiac from his heavy thrashing. The only reason I remember my granny’s place is because that was the only place I found solace and happiness.

Cops found the keys to attic in my room under the bed. The attic reeked of urine and a sharp knife which was probably used to sharpen the ice, an ice container probably used to hold the weapon. No one had ever been to the attic because the keys were carefully hidden by me. Sahil was in fact looking for the keys when he came across the black diary. He rushed to get the bottle of drain cleaner to ensure that I don’t kill anyone while he called the cops on me. Currently I am detained in a mental facility and I still toy with the ideas of perfect murder a perfect crime.


© Copyright 2019 Ankit Chhabra. All rights reserved.

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