The Butcher
It was three o’clock and I had finally arrived at the residence of the person who held the—numero uno—position, on the list of my suspects. And it was none other than the tall, muscular and intimidating butcher, Emmanuel Dillon; who possessed quite some skills with his knife and also had a non-native accent to his tongue.
At the very moment, when I decided to meet up and test the waters with him, I knew, I was taking a long shot. But when I heard—from the chest—those men threaten that poor girl, intuitively one of the two men seemed to be him, to me.
“Knock knock!” I thumped his door cautiously, not knowing what was going to transpire next.
“Just hope I am not entering into the lion’s den, knowingly.” Said I. “But, on a second thought, I think I am ready to face it all.”
The gate of the house opened, on the inside, and there he was the man himself. It indeed was a sinister feeling to be standing, so close to a mountain of a man. Seeing a stranger at his doorstep, bang in the middle of the noon, he wasn’t amused one bit.
“Buzz off you insect, before I squeeze the last breath out of your pathetic life.” Screamed the ‘butcher’.
“How dare you knock my door! This isn’t a dharmaśālā where anyone can come at any time, to disturb me.” Said he.
Before I could have said a word, the door closed in my face.
Well on the hind side, it was a wrong move on my part; I couldn’t have chosen a more inappropriate time and venue, to meet a person who wasn’t known for his social skills.
I stood there for a minute, thinking what should be done next. I only had one opportunity, which I had blown with my ignorance. Even if I go to his shop tomorrow, he wouldn’t entertain me there as well and I would get the necessary information, out of him.
“Although his accent was familiar and his voice was close to the man I though he was, but it didn’t accurately matched.” I told to myself. “Was it the chest, between him and myself that must made him sound slightly different to me?”
I started from there, back towards my haveli but only a hundred meters from the butcher’s house, and I heard a loud shout-out from behind. “Hey Mark, wait for me. Stop!”
My spontaneous reaction was to turn around to address the call. To my surprise, it was my newly made friend Stan Jacob, who I saw was running in order to get to me.
As he neared me, panting his lungs out and sweating to the brink, I asked him to take a moment to cool down.
What are the odds of crossing paths with someone you were least expecting. This was such a coincidence that the last time I was near the butcher, I found a stranger and made friends with him. And the next time I came to see the butcher, and yet again, I see him here.
Previous Chapters:
1- Chapter- 1: The "Ancestral" Village
2- Chapter- 2: The Haveli
3- Chapter- 3: Legend of the Village
4- Chapter- 4: The Local Bazaar
5- Chapter- 5: The Banyan Tree
6- Chapter- 6: The Muddy Path
7- Chapter- 7: Open The Door
8- Chapter- 8: Horrible House
9- Chapter- 9: Men Or Monsters
10- Chapter- 10: The Ultimate Sin
Would you consider to please follow me @vinyprop & upvote this post, if I tell you that I publish a new post every single day?
Now it's getting more and more beguiling @vinyprop. Getting more and more engrossed with your track. Mr. Mark is absolutely making a mark. 😀
Thank you @vidyabanjan ☺️☺️
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