The Call

The house overlooking the sea was an object of envy for many. With many wind chimes adorning the patio, every passer by taking his evening stroll wanted to own her house. The huge expressionist painting hung on the wall. She was an art enthusiast. And loved her evening glass of red wine just as much. Her cigarette rested on the receptacle, still burning..and she looked at her reflection in the large French window..at her face and at her fingers, without a wedding ring.

The same face which appeared on the cover of tens of magazines neatly laid upon the coffee table. Some eulogized her, some termed her the dragon lady, career obsessed..The same table which he had picked out for her when they had gone shopping..

The trouble with lies is; each one begets another, into a spiral conundrum, confusing and hard to get out of. The trouble with trust is; you believe each of these lies. And the trouble with ambition, she thought, was, you are left alone at the top, with no home to go back to...

But all this was already clouded in mist and merged into the boundless grey sea..the undulating sea, gleaming under the moon and then roaring against the flaring crimson..


She waited for the phone to ring..technology had always eluded her. She knew that this small device would connect her to the world. Bring her opportunities, success, money and fame.

Only today, she knew, it would bring her hope..and life..

How hard could it be to say, I love you too Cecilia..

And the phone rang...

...and without waiting for the chauffeur, she drove the Benz..


Next day, the papers read.. “… head-on collision…she was two months pregnant...."

And no one would ever know who called her..