Deja Vu

Morris reached for the cup of coffee on the windowsill with one hand, his other hand being used as a bookmark for the book he was reading. He took a sip of the coffee, which was no longer piping hot like when he made it - he was so engrossed in the book that he was reading, he had hardly paid any attention to the coffee in the last hour. He was oblivious of the real world, oblivious of the wooden armchair he was sitting in, oblivious of the hard splashing raindrops on his window, for during the last one hour, he had spent his time in a different, more interesting and more eventful world – a world of stories.

Morris was the editor of a daily magazine. His present assignment was to select a horror story for publishing in the special Halloween edition of the magazine. Presently he was reading a collection of horror stories by different authors. The stories were so were entertaining and thrilling that he could hardly take his eyes and mind off the book. The endings were the best…the part where your heart rate is at its highest…and you expect to expect the unexpected, and you are not disappointed when it ends… because it gives the satisfaction you have been waiting for since the time you began reading the story.

Morris had just begun reading a new story…the last one, after which he would have to make the difficult decision of choosing one of the stories for the magazine. The story had no author’s name. Maybe it was given in the end. The story began by introducing an unknown man. The first paragraph gave some details about the daily life of the man and his morning activities. This man took some medicines early in the morning. This fact made Morris more interested, as he himself took medicines in the morning as he suffered from high blood pressure. However, the reason for why this man took the medicines was not explicitly mentioned.

Morris began reading the second paragraph of the story. The name of the man was not yet mentioned by the author. Maybe it would be mentioned later, or maybe this was one of those stories where the name of the character was not mentioned at all…nowadays such stories were in fashion too. The first few lines of the second paragraph were –

“He was late for office, as usual. He kicked the door of his apartment open and rushed outside into the street, looking for a bus.”

Morris was very surprised – because he too had the same habit of being late for office. It was not intentional, but somehow every day for some reason or the other he would be late for office. He continued reading the next few lines –

“His day began like any other normal day. Little did he know about the drastic change of events that would take place later in the day…”

The excitement and suspense began to set in. The author had already began playing with the mind of the reader, making him anticipate the ending of the story. Morris kept on reading. The next few lines were not exciting, it was rather boring. Morris grew impatient, but he knew he should not judge a story before it ended…after all, it was the ending of a story that made a story special.

Morris expected something uncanny to happen in the story…so far, the story had been ordinary and uneventful. But something uncanny did happen, though it was totally different from what he expected. The uncanny happened in the form of the first sentence of the third paragraph –

“The man returned home from office, made himself a cup of coffee and sat down on his wooden armchair and began reading a horror story book.”

Morris’s adrenaline shot up. His excitement slowly faded away and was replaced by curiosity and even a tiny bit of fear. He took a quick glance at the cup of coffee beside him on the windowsill. Without a word, he kept reading the story. Questions began to arise in his mind – who was the man in the story? Why was his name not mentioned? Who was the author? Morris began reading fast, he wanted to finish the story quickly. He moved on to the next page and the last. He could see that only a few lines were left for the story to end, and felt a strong urge to read the ending line, but he dared not do it. So, he began reading from the top of the page –

“Suddenly there was a knock on the door. The man panicked and his heart rate shot up. When it’s 11 p.m. at night, and you are in the middle of reading a horror story alone in your house, a knock on the door is something you don’t want to hear.”

Instinct made Morris glance at the clock on his wall. It was one minute to 11 p. m! He felt his blood pumping hard in his veins. His blood pressure shot up. His doctor had warned him not to panic, as he suffered from high blood pressure and was at risk of heart attack. He tried to calm himself down …10 seconds…5 seconds ….2 seconds… there was a sharp knock on the door! Morris began shaking with terror. The book fell from his hand on the floor with a thud. It was a cold rainy night, yet his face was covered in sweat. Suddenly there was an ear-splitting lightning flash, and Morris could feel the darkness wrapping him up.

Meanwhile outside, Morris’ wife, who was drenched in rain, kept knocking on the front door, wondering why his husband was not answering. Was he not there? Yet the lights were on. Panic gripped her. Within an hour she got a locksmith to open the door. The police, neighbours, and a locksmith crowded the room. Everyone asked questions and each came up with a different theory of what had happened. An ambulance was called and Morris was taken away to the hospital. In the middle of all the commotion, no one noticed the book which lay open on the floor, revealing its last page contents. The last few lines of the story that Morris had not been able to finish–

“The man was shaking with fear. He was nervous by nature. Suddenly there was a lightning flash and this acted as the final shock, and the man fainted. By the time he was taken to hospital, he was declared dead owing to a massive heart attack!”