[ultimate_heading main_heading=”Kitchen Knife, Short Story by Aishwarya Chaurasia – Issue.XXV : February 2017 ” main_heading_color=”#1e73be” sub_heading_color=”#8224e3″ spacer=”line_with_icon” spacer_position=”bottom” line_style=”dotted” line_height=”1″ line_color=”#1e73be” icon_type=”custom” icon_img=”id^48|url^http://ashvamegh.net/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/Ashvamegh-ICO.jpg|caption^null|alt^Ashvamegh Journal Icon|title^Ashvamegh ICO|description^null” img_width=”48″ main_heading_style=”font-weight:bold;” main_heading_font_size=”desktop:34px;” line_width=”3″]encrypted message…[/ultimate_heading]

Introduction to the Author:

An aspiring writer and unfortunate corporate slave, Aishwarya Chaurasia wants to take up writing as a career. She holds a B Com honours from SRCC, Delhi University and works in Samsung. Passionate about writing, she finds a kind of pleasure in it. Active in participating in literary happenings, Aishwarya is committed to pursuing writing as a long-term goal.


Kitchen Knife

I woke up with a start in the dark room, sweating profusely. My body heavy and throat dry. Sitting up, I stared at the fan moving slowly before coming to halt. Something must be wrong with the generator, I thought. I tried to reach out to my phone in the dark, I had left it on the table beside my bed before sleeping. It was 3 AM.

I decided to open a few windows to let the breeze come in. Using the faint light my phone was emitting I made my way towards it, tripping on my way on a cup, I didn’t remember I owned. Getting up and directing the light towards the window, I froze. There on the window was a reflection of a figure, blurred but definite, scorching at the extreme end of the room. I was suddenly aware of every sound and every movement in the room. Closing my eyes tightly shut, I wished it all to be a dream. I opened my eyes only to look at the figure closely. I saw it now, it had a knife. I could see it gleaming in the dark.

It was not a dream. There was someone in my room. I considered darting out of the house, but how long will the figure take to catch me? No. It will be best if I pretend I don’t know its existence. I opened the window, trying my best to keep my hands from shaking. I had my phone with me, I can alert my flatmate. But how can I alert her without alerting the figure? I realised I was sweating like a faucet even in the cool breeze. The only sound in the dark night was that of my thumping heart. The figure was listening. My body tensed, I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I clinged to my dear life. I had to pretend everything was normal! But how and for how long?! And then it hit me, what better way to pretend everything is normal than calling out to someone and making normal conversation?

I called out to my flatmate. “Archu, I feel very hot! I think my fan stopped working, can I sleep with you?” No answer. God, she is fast asleep. I called out again, this time loudly and more clearly.

“Archana, wakey wakey! Can I sleep in your room, please?!”

“I guess.” She whispered in my ear.

A chill ran down my spine, my eyes aghast and breathing erratic. I turned to look straight in her dead eyes. There she was, in her night suit, her hair all over her face and in her hand, a kitchen knife. I felt my body go cold. My legs gave in and I fell on the floor, consciousness slipping away from me.

I woke up next morning in the drawing room. It took me about a minute to recall the events of last night and the familiar sense of foreboding crept over me. I got up and found Archana standing over me, her hands on her hips. She had a weird expressing on her face. I just stared at her.

“Were you drinking again last night?” she snapped.


“God, you were, weren’t you! You look so pale. Go get fresh, I’ll get you some lemon juice.”

Nothing made sense. Was I in hell already? I got up to go to my room when she stopped me.

“I woke up on the sofa you know, Aishu? Did you put me in the sofa?”

I gulped. “No”, I could hardly get words out of my mouth.

“Hmm. Anyway, I can’t find the only kitchen knife we had. God knows how we keep losing knives every now and then.”

I gulped harder, “No idea”, I said.

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