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    The Journal
    The Journal
    The Journal
    Ebook70 pages47 minutes

    The Journal

    By Rajal Dhakan

    ()

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    About this ebook

    This is losing your identity. This is losing your flesh. This is losing that one thing that was yours for life. This is someone stealing everything you ever owned; your soul. This is murder.
    The story of a man reading a journal that slowly unravels the mystery of the murder he is accused of. Is he really innocent? Will the journal answer all the questions?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOne Point Six Technologies Pvt Ltd
    Release dateMar 28, 2019
    ISBN9789388930185
    The Journal
    Author

    Rajal Dhakan

    This is losing your identity. This is losing your flesh. This is losing that one thing that was yours for life. This is someone stealing everything you ever owned; your soul. This is murder.The story of a man reading a journal that slowly unravels the mystery of the murder he is accused of. Is he really innocent? Will the journal answer all the questions?

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      Book preview

      The Journal - Rajal Dhakan

      CHAPTER 1

      It all happened really quickly. It was as if the ground beneath me had suddenly become weaker than me, sinking me in itself, eating me up. It was as though I was being buried alive and nothing or nobody could save me.

      I heard the first few words the judge said and my brain shut down. I was swimming in an ocean of darkness and now I am swallowed in. ‘According to all the evidence presented in court, I find the defendant guilty of…’

      It was odd, really. The next thing I heard was the gavel banging and two police officers came and cuffed me up. My hands behind my back seemed as though they had been cut off and I could not feel anything. What does one feel, though? When they are imprisoned for the rest of their lives? When they know, there will not be any more birthdays or just walking around in your own apartment with your family sitting by you? When you know you will never smell the fresh air, walking on dewy grass with the love of your life?

      Most people would ask why I did not fight this harder. I wish I had an answer to that, but it was as if I was being burned and my ashes were heavier than the possibility of me having some fight left in me. The crime I was going in for was heinous. But, would I be able to fight the evidence presented in court? Did I have enough fight in me, to shake this off and make my family whole again? Will it ever be whole again?

      I turned around to look for my mother, my beautiful mother. I found her sitting exactly behind me, one bench away. She was staring at nothing. Amidst the chaos in the court, I tried to shout for her, but my efforts went in vain. She was not paying attention; I do not blame her. This was just adding up to her condition and I wish she believed me. She finally looked up.

      I looked deep into her eyes to find the mother who had taken care and made me the man I was. I thought I found her, so I whispered, ‘I am innocent.’

      ‘Well, that is my story.’ I say, holding back tears as I remember the day I entered this jail for the first time.

      My new bunkmate, Anil, chuckles. ‘I do not believe it for a second. Although, your tears make your story seem legitimate. That might be one reason I would believe you are innocent.’

      ‘Mate, I do not need you to believe me,’ I say, offended. ‘You asked for my story, I gave it to you. It is your turn now.’

      He chuckles again, playing with a tiny hole in the wall, on his side. ‘It sure is more interesting. I did commit the crime, for one.’ He says.

      ‘Well, what did you do?’ I ask, irritated.

      ‘It is interesting but nothing new. I killed my ex-wife and her new boyfriend. I was drunk, out of my mind and angry. I saw her and she was happier than she ever was with me. I could not bear to look at that smile of hers. She had the most beautiful smile. I know it so well, I can carve it on your face right now.’ He exhales.

      I am taken aback; I do not know how to react, so I just let it go. ‘How did you do it?’ I ask.

      ‘I do not spill out everything at once, mate. That’s a story for another time.’

      ‘Well, alright then, I am off to sleep.’ I say and turn my back to him.

      I could not sleep that night; having thoughts about how he must have killed someone he loved. How demented do you have to be, to be able to do that? How do you look into the eyes of the person you

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