Project Nowwhere - The Alibi of Reality

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I am feeling highly honoured and grateful while writing I this section to the beautiful work of my dear friend, also the author of this book, Sushant Sharma. Since the day I have known him, I always wanted to have a glance at an output of his innovative and creative thinking. And, here it is! This work of fiction will introduce you to one aspect of psychological crime and intended horror. The author has ingrained and entwined the various incidences into the storyline in such a diligent way that the reader would have an urge to read the sequel. I really wish Sushant establishes himself firmly as an author in the genre of fiction, and I am sure he would be able to. Good wishes to him.

I was going back to my hostel from college after spending Isome time on books in the library which is my usual habit. The wind, amidst the green pines in Shimla valley, was soothing and fresh. The road was unusually quiet, though it did not catch my attention. I had my earphones plugged in, and I was enjoying my music, lost in a world of my own imaginations.

It was a lucky day as she did not come to college, and the whole place was astoundingly noise-free. Finally, a day was spent in peace.

Also, I ignored her messages and calls that day. Yes, sometimes I get tired of dealing with her. She craves so much attention that one cannot focus on routine work in her presence.

I was almost mid-way to my hostel when I noticed a figure, bald and skinny, wearing dirty pyjamas and a loose shirt, sitting on the roadside, leaning on the trunk of a Rhododendron tree.

Aghast, I pulled off my earphones and realized the figure to be feminine. All her clothes were blood-drenched. My heart started pounding when I saw her in this condition. Her hands seemed lifeless, and from distance, I could not appreciate any movement of her body.

Infinite thoughts started racing in my mind, and the first thing I thought was, Samant, at least do check if she's alre and call for help.

My legs started turning heavy as I approached her. I looked around as far as I could to see if someone was around. I stopped for a while and gave it a if she's dead?' thought, What if she’s dead?’ Suddenly, I heard her moaning. I then knew that she needed help. Keeping my profession in my mind I reached her, and her appearance sent chills running down my spine.

How could it be? What could she be doing here? She was supposed to be at ber home. Her whole-day absence made me think that it was a lucky day, but now I found her here like this. Then, she started snorting as she dozed off. This was a bit disgusting Was she sleeping roadside with her shaven bead, in these blood-soaked clothes, like this? How could this be true? This can't be true."

I shook her and gave her a call, "Wake up! Hey! Wake up." I addressed her in a loud voice.

She was startled to that, although she was not fully oriented, yet she recognised me and said, "You came for me? Yes, you came for me!" She uttered in the slang of alcoholics.

**Contents and Sample Pages**