Murder At Midnight

Some events are beyond the limits of earthly explanations.

- Wyn La Bourchardiere

It was nearing midnight; when having missed my train, I had no other option but to wait out the night at Kulampur - an obscure railway station on the South Indian Rail Tracks. It serves as a railhead and distribution point for all the villages around the area.

“You have a long wait”, the station master quipped as he directed me to the station’s waiting room. “The next train is a good 8 hours away,” said he and disappeared into the night.

I opened the creaking door to be greeted by a dingy room painted a dirty yellow. A single naked light bulb hung from the ceiling and an ancient fan creaked as I switched it on. Rattan chairs, possibly bug infested, were placed round a time scarred teapoy. A lone dark rosewood dressing table fitted with a murky mirror stood against one wall. The window panes were cracked and the toilet just functional. Resigned, I pulled up a chair and tried to get some sleep.

I was just dozing off when the door opened bringing in an icy draught of air. I sprang awake and there looking down at me, wearing a quizzical smile, was a beautiful woman. She took my breath away.

“Waiting for me?” she whispered.