The Dark Side: Anthology of Short Stories exploring the dark side

Flesh and Retribution

Colonel Vikram Singh was a man of honor. After years of serving in the Indian Army, he retired in the serene city of Fatehpur Sikri, seeking peace. However, the peace he found was shattered by the stories of the missing women-daughters and sisters of the nearby villages who had vanished without a trace. Investigations led nowhere, but whispers in the alleys spoke of a dark network operating behind the veil of human trafficking. One name consistently surfaced: a group of men who ran a flesh trade, exploiting the vulnerable women of Rajasthan. The Colonel, once a warrior on the battlefield, now sought justice for these victims in the most terrifying way possible.

He formed a secret group of trusted individuals-locals who had lost their loved ones to this depraved trade. Together, they hatched a meticulous plan to capture these eight men, drag them to the depths of terror, and execute justice.

The Kidnapping

It started quietly. One by one, the eight men were abducted from the streets of Fatehpur Sikri. The men, who had once wielded power and money over the defenseless, found themselves blindfolded and shackled in a cold, dark room. Little did they know, they were in the basement of a large, dilapidated bungalow on the city's outskirts-a place that once stood grand but had since become a tomb for forgotten souls.

The Colonel welcomed them personally, his face hidden in the dim light. A shadow of vengeance loomed over them. He didn't speak of forgiveness or mercy. He spoke of retribution.

"Your sins have caught up with you," Colonel Vikram Singh echoed. "And now, you will pay in blood."

The First Victim

The first man, Raghuveer, known for luring young women into the trade, was strapped to a wooden chair in a dimly lit chamber. The walls were lined with mirrors, reflecting his terror. In the center of the room was an old iron contraption, a device used during medieval times to extract confessions. It was fitted with spikes that slowly compressed with every turn of the wheel. The Colonel calmly explained the history of this tool, watching as Raghuveer's eyes widened in horror.

The wheel turned.

The spikes inched closer.

Screams filled the room as the spikes dug into Raghuveer's flesh, piercing his organs, his breath coming in gurgling gasps as blood streamed from his mouth. The Colonel watched without flinching as Raghuveer's body contorted in unimaginable pain. Death came slow, every ounce of life squeezed from his body.

The Second Victim

Dinesh was next, a sadistic trafficker who had personally tortured many of the captured women. His execution was ironic. He was forced into a cage submerged in cold, filthy water, his body tied down, and his head locked in place. Above him, a rope was connected to a massive weight. Slowly, drop by drop, water filled the cage as the weight began to descend, each inch spelling his impending doom.

He fought, thrashing against the restraints, but it was futile. Water filled his lungs, and the weight finally crashed onto him, shattering his chest. His body convulsed as life left him in a slow, agonizing manner.

The Third Victim

Shyam, a mastermind of the network, found himself chained to the floor of a cavernous room. A large pendulum sharpened to a fine edge, swung above him, descending with every pass. The Colonel, speaking of poetic justice, left Shyam to watch as the pendulum inched closer to his chest. His cries echoed through the chamber as the blade finally sliced into him, his blood pooling beneath him as death crawled closer with each swing.

The Fourth Victim

Ramesh was thrown into a pit filled with rats, creatures that had been starved for days. They swarmed over him, gnawing at his flesh, tearing into his limbs. His screams echoed as the rodents feasted on his body, consuming him piece by piece until all that remained were bones and bloody rags.

The Fifth and Sixth Victims

These two were brothers, notorious for selling the bodies of the girls to foreign buyers. They were locked in a small, airless chamber, a slow gas leak filling the room. The Colonel watched through a glass panel as they clawed at their throats, gasping for air. Their deaths were slow, their eyes bulging, faces turning a sickly purple as the poison finally took hold.

The Seventh Victim's Escape

Rahul was the seventh. Unlike the others, he wasn't bound when he woke up. The room was dark, but he could feel cold stone beneath his feet. Panicked, he made his way through a labyrinth of passages, eventually reaching what seemed like an exit-a narrow door leading into a tunnel. Relief washed over him. He thought he had escaped.

But something didn't sit right. As he moved deeper into the tunnel, he realized it wasn't leading him out-it was taking him deeper beneath the earth. The air grew thicker, the walls damp, and a sense of dread filled his chest. Finally, he found a hatch that led him out, but when he pushed it open and climbed through, he found himself standing in the Colonel's study.

Colonel Vikram Singh stood there, smiling.

"You thought you could escape?" the Colonel said softly. "You don't understand, Rahul. This was never a basement. You've been trapped here, beneath my bungalow, since the beginning."

Rahul's heart sank. He realized the Colonel had anticipated every move, and planned every step of his so-called escape. The Colonel revealed the reason behind this elaborate death game.

"You and your friends," the Colonel spat, "destroyed the lives of countless women. You sold them like cattle and discarded them when they no longer served your purpose. I was asked by their families to avenge them. This is your justice."

The Final Kill

Rahul begged for his life, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. The Colonel's final trap was simple yet cruel-a steel door slammed shut, locking Rahul in a small room. The floor beneath him opened, revealing a massive meat grinder. He scrambled to find footing as the floor tilted, sending him into the churning blades below. His screams were short-lived as his body was torn apart, piece by piece until nothing remained but a gory mixture of blood and bone.

The Villagers' Revenge

As the Colonel walked out of the bungalow, the villagers gathered outside, watching in grim satisfaction. Their daughters, sisters, and wives had been avenged. The Colonel, covered in the blood of those men, had delivered the justice they had longed for.

For the women who had suffered, their souls could finally rest, knowing their tormentors had met the most gruesome and fitting end. Fatehpur Sikri could now begin to heal.