The Plot

George's hand was trembling. If it was a cup and a saucer it would have rattled like hell, but it was a knife. A sparkling knife. He made himself strong, he was waiting -- waiting for it to come out. The knife had stains on it, real stains. Stains which stay back with the knife after the knife pierces through the flesh, cutting it through.
No time he had. He was out of time. Every thing was done now, any mistake would ruin things. George was aware of it. Things had worked out as he had planned. But he dearly wanted the knife to be cleaned.
He had another knife-victim lined up. He was waiting in the kitchen, he just prayed that it would show up in time this time around. The knife was dying to be cleaned of the stains! The substantiations had to be removed, had to be deleted.

The woman was happy, her gait was a ecstatic one! Briskly she covered ground with large happy steps. She almost galloped! She wished her son had been there as he used to be every year. But he was gone, he had to. She climbed the stairs rapidly as she never did before. Happiness was in the air, she was to call her son who was miles away from her. An air of disappointment spread suddenly around her with the fact that he had not called her for almost 3 months now. Was he alright ? Or did the big city fever make him forget his mother. These thoughts were spreading like venom through her brain, slowly killing her. She couldnt hold now. No she couldnt.
She moved quicker, eager to make a call.

George had only one knife, he couldnt afford to use it with stains. That was his rule. The knife gets a bad taste if you use it with out washing the previous stains. A rule he followed. He just wished that the damn thing would come out of the hole. The clock was ticking, he knew it was not long for his plan to be executed. His heart pounded. It was pumping blood so hard that he could feel the pressure on his veins. He could feel the liquid running through his body. He would not let this small stupid thing ruin his plan. A plan which he had worked out over and over in his mind for the past week.

And there came the devil from the hole, the tap hole - water sprang into action, gushing over the knife with such force that the stains washed out in a jiffy. He hurried through the knife like an ablution on a ritual day.
His blood resonated in sync with the sound of the tap water. He was sweating. Sweating through each skin pore of his forehead.

The woman had raced to the door till this time. She was panting with the effort she made on the stairs to reach the door as quickly as possible. And then as she was ready to open the door with the key, the phone in the house rang. George leapt and almost made a cry of fear. He was waiting with the scintillating knife in his hand. He couldnt get distracted by the phone, he had to be focused.

The door lock made a clacking noise, George fumbled from his position a bit but recovered. The phone was honking, crying to be picked up like a baby. The woman hurried with the keys, she was sure it was her son calling...
But little did she know that a guy with a derisive smirk was awaiting her. Yes, George was there- right there -waiting for his victim. He so loved this - he loved to see the expressions on his victims face. All the week he had dreamt of this place appareled with a lady wearing a shock expression on her face. Just imagining her shocked face brought goose bumps. George recovered himself for a final prayer with a cunning smile, one of intent!

To be continued ...