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Winter is for comfort, right?

Wordplay - Dec 2012 - Jan 2013

04 Dec 2012

This is the final installment in a series brought you to you during 2012 by Docklands Writers. Each month’s installment was written by a different writer from the group.  The ongoing story is at  We trust you have enjoyed it. Feedback is always welcome as are membership enquiries to (JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)  

Beginning of the end

By Nandita Chakraborty and Jane M. Hutchinson

Tom had seen many things in my life; but to see Jenny covered in his blood made Tom freeze. The sight of Jenny lying in a pool of bright red blood gasping for help. A crowd gathers around. “Are they scared as I am a foreigner? I must leave before it turns out into a police case.”

Trying to shift my body on the footpath; the pressure in my head was painful, paralysing. With all my strength I crawl like a child to Jenny. I shook her but she was still, still and cold. Her lifeless eyes wide open staring at me, screaming out at me. I gently smoothed her eye-lids closed.

My eyes are foggy – obscure with tears and blood; the sinking feeling of death is more frightening than dying alone in a foreign country.  Surprised at this thought, I am scared now. The sun, almost setting, starts to dry and crust the blood on my face; just then I saw a figure from the crowd approaching me.

In and out of consciousness, I struggled to keep my eyes open. Somehow, I have to see this person; Someone was not a coward after all. I forced my eyes to stay open. By now the shadow of this person covered me. Raising my head to look up at the shadow, I touch my nose for my spectacles, but they were gone.

 I panic! I hear a loud bang; struggling to breathe; after a short gasp I fall into a deep peaceful sleep”.


The nurse spoke in such a heavy accent in English. Still under the heavy influence of medication, the hum of the surrounding noises and the cold sterile smell of antiseptic triggered Tom’s memory.  

‘‘I ...” Tom paused and attempted to shift his head to look around.

“What day is it today?” “Thursday,” the nurse replied with a smile, looking at him with suspicious eyes. She walked towards the other side of the room.

The last two days flashed before him. Running with Jenny to Hawaii, stealing the money from Kate, drugging her with sleeping pills, remembering Jenny’s last words that the money is not cursed, having lunch with her just before he could propose to her. He nearly got run over by a motorbike killing Jenny in that accident. What was the need to kill her!

“Can we call anyone for you?”

“Ah ah! No! No! I’ve got no one, I’m alone travelling.”

“Maybe a lawyer? The police will be in shortly.”


The blind hand searched for Tom’s personal belongings under the bed, finally feeling the taped-up paper bag, he pulls it right and slips it under the bed covers.

He waits for the right moment to open the bag, drawing around the curtain on his bed.

Opening the paper bag, Tom pulls out the nurse’s uniform and slowly changes into it, cautious of not making too much noise. Removing the bandages from his nose, how can he camouflage the bruises? Tom cringes in pain. His body felt so heavy, checking his watch, and he quickly realises he doesn’t have much time.

A wheel chair had been placed next to his bed; he quickly took charge of it and walked towards the elevator.


The evening was humid when he jumped on the back seat of the white Fiat, where his contact was waiting for him.

‘‘Here is your new passport and tickets. Your ship leaves in an hour. Be careful with the money, the police are already in search for you. Here take these,’’ handing him the yellow manila envelope.

Tom took the manila folder, quickly glancing over his new passport. He prepared to leave the car when his contact stopped him. ‘‘By the way what do you intend doing now, just out of curiosity?’’ Closing the door behind him, he waved a goodbye to his contact. He smiled.

Tom had never loved a sunset as much as he did tonight, as if telling him a new beginning was here. There was a strange sense of freedom rising within him.


Just as Tom was crossing the road, a car came screeching from behind, hitting him, and throwing him to the opposite side of the road in a pool of blood.

A shot was aimed at his heart enough to leave him gasping for a short breath.

For one last time, he looked up at his assassin, his contact – the nurse – his lover Kate. She was wearing his spectacles.  Gasping for air, he fell into a deep peaceful sleep, forever.

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