Day 9 – The story tag

Continued from

As she waited for the door to open, pictures from her past whizzed by.

*Mosquito coil* (flashback ya)

She was just 5. It had been just 2 months since her father was posted in Rajasthan. A cold unfamiliar place and a huge house. But those were her best times in life. She was always happy. Always. Nothing could wipe that smileout of her face. Never bored. Always had company to play with. One or the other would always come to play. The backyard swing was their favourite place. The creek of the uncoiled swing and their laughter will always be in sync. It was a song. A happy song.

But she never understood her parents.why were they always sad. Why did they always talk in low voice. Why did they get angry everytime she went near the swing.why  had they stopped cooking all nice things. Why did they never smile when she told her play time stories. Why did they hate her friends. Why did they kept on saying that there is no friend. Why did they invite that uncle bhoot Rajan to their home.

She hated him instantly. Whenever he was at home her friends refused to play with her. That made her sad and angry. Then all of a sudden they left Rajasthan. Why why why

Knowing that the answers may be at the other side of the door made her impatient.

She heard footsteps…Very clumsy it sounded

Passing it to the great BM –


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