Short Story: Basement Party by Moushumi Chakrabarty

Moushumi Chakrabarty narrates a spooky tale sprinkled with fun and mystery, leaving the reader enthralled.

After the party, it turned stormy. Through the small single window, I watched for a moment blackened clouds coalescing in the streaked sky like conspirators ready to make their hit at long last. I was exhausted, absolutely squeezed of all feeling. Numbly, I let my eyes roam around – the two glasses on my charming black table were yet to be dealt with. They looked innocuous enough.

My two guests lay sprawled on the bold red settee. Her, I looked at with disgust. Her mussed hair and frilly girlish clothes were crumpled and rode up above her knees. I felt that the staleness in the air was due, in some way, to her lying so wantonly. And him, I couldn’t make myself look at without a storm of grief. That known body, familiar as my own, perhaps better-loved than my own. They lay as if in a tableau, curiously peaceful after the agony of the last few minutes. The clock’s face on the wall behind them cried out in the silence. Midnight.