"Perfect location, perfect view," he thought, absorbing the peaceful surroundings in this country-side low budget motel, with expanses of extensive grasslands just outside the open windows that spread for miles and miles in the horizon; he so loved it, the picturesque serenity of it all and instantly decided to take up the room for the next few months, when he'd complete the novel he had set out to write.
"Are you sure, sir," the motel owner looked very hesitant, he was quite unwilling to give the room on rent and wanted the man to opt for another, this room after all had its own history; but the young writer was adamant.
"Yes, yes I love it and I'm taking it at any price you ask," if he wanted it, he always got it and nothing would make him change his mind; afterall he had come a long way from the city, searching for a peaceful place to make his characters come to life; and this was just the place he wanted ~ he had all the money in the world to pay for it too.
Deal done, the motel owner reluctantly left the writer to himself and no sooner had he closed the door, the breeze began blowing into the room with a soft whistle at first, making the curtains sway gently but gradually building up speed ~ it then grew to the intensity of a whirlwind in a matter of few seconds, creating a mayhem, going round and round in ferocious circles knocking everything on its way, where the young writer before he could even settle down in his room was slowly sucked in; his cries for help drowned in the stormy wind that finally swallowed him ~ and then, all was eerily quiet again.
Outside the room, the motel owner shook his head, "I told him not to take it, he didn't listen; now, even God can't help him," he thought, and slowly walked away whistling.
Copyright 2015 © Nandini Deka