The Rubble

CHAPTER 1

2023:

5th November

It was a cold evening in Kufri. Snow danced in the moonlight, choreographed with a ballet by the gentle wind. The roads were covered in a thick blanket of white, the cars parked had snow crowns clad up on them whilst Praanvi sat on her usual place, cozied up with a warm cuppa.

The entire locality looked like an unfinished painting. The moonlight reflected on her deep hazel eyes, her lips biting due to the cold. She hugged her pashmina tight and heaved a soft sigh, the thick brew dancing to her breathe. The trees whistled to the tunes of her honied humming. She always loved the sight of snow and moonlight. The entire canvas of her life filled with plain white and her simply gazing the stars, thanking them in every possible way for the aura it creates every single day.

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Light flooded into the basement from the windows that crowned the room. Her eyes were drawn upward toward the flowers of spring that were blossoming into the newly warmed air. All about the room were comfy chairs, a book shelf and guitars. It was the sort of place you could go to feel calm, to feel cradled by the earth and yet still under the sun.

It was such a place for her, too. A place where she could read her novels, write her articles for SilverOpinion, read magazines and newspapers, update her blog and everything that made her feel sane during the 40-hour work load. Her weekly routine included catching up on her magazines and read her blog.

Her bookshelf would leave anyone with a sense of vellichor. An owner of hundreds of fictions, she surely knows her world. Beyond the mahogany shelves, there lied a series of various characters. Each book held its own world of wonders and has its own natural scent: dust, wisdom, creativity and emotions.

She found herself on her favourite place in the cellar, surrounded by her tribe. She gazed through the top articles on SilverOpinion whilst sipping her morning brew. Each time she sipped, she felt herself alive, heart popping to dance in the snow.

She felt her feet on earth, tapping away till the window to witness the morning sun and felt it seep through the windows. The warm breeze kissed her face as her lips formed into the most beautiful curve. She tilted in awe as she noticed the sound of pages ruffling. She turned to see a wrinkled set of papers, fluttering in the breeze. Her feet tapped away to hold the same as it read "The Weekly Post". A little newspaper left the thick papers and fell on the earth.

"Wow, how did I miss this," she clicked her tongue to read the headlines "Congratulations, you got lucky!" Looking at how absurd the headline was, she kept it aside to open her copy of "Becoming", as she munched on her leftover egg rolls. Silence was one virtue which Praanvi adores about the town.

She finished her breakfast in a hush and did the dishes while watching the latest episode of "Minimalism". She had taken an off from her work that day to rejenuvate herself from all the pressure mounting on her from her employers. She sat down on the couch, heaving a huge sigh, tucking her hair behind her ear. Wiping the sweat off her face, she gulped the water down from the bottle kept near the lampshade and looked on the screen keenly.

Thirty minutes into the episode, she heard the bell ring. Cursing herself, she treaded towards the door to see her mailman waiting for her with a package in hand.

"Didi, parcel for you," he handed over the package whilst she was signing for the receipt of the package. On opening the package, she saw a piece of paper dropping on the floor from the magazine saying "Congratulations, you got lucky!" Her sensors were awake once again as she immediately stopped the vendor asking "Bhaiya, do you deliver newspapers too?"

"Haan didi. What happened?" he stood clueless and continued "is there any problem with the service?" he was concerned about the ratings of his agency which would in turn affect his daily wage. His boss would never let any of his employees come back losing one of their customers.

"No, no, everything is fine. Do you by any chance deliver The Weekly Post?" she quipped, to which he replied with a strong Himachal accent "Weekly Post? Nahi didi, we don't deliver. None of our competition also deliver."

"Acha? Okay thanks," she closed the door to look at the slip again. Though it looked really crazy to get worried about something so trivial, she didn't want to rule out any chance, given that the newspaper was not even circulated in her town. She jogged to the cellar once again to search for the newspaper she saw this morning. Cussing herself for keeping her table untidy, she kept tossing all the papers, highlighters until she finally saw the newspaper.

Sitting on the ground, she felt the cold earth swaying inside her body as she opened the paper to see only two pages. Surprised, she started reading the headline again- "Congratulations, you got lucky!"

1976, House Towers, Yamuna Avenue, Kufri.

Date: 25th November 2023

"25th November? That is like 20 days from now! What a weird advertisement to send to the readers! Could be the new multiplex, maybe" she murmured and kept it aside, trying to focus on cleaning the mess she had created in the midst of finding a meek newspaper. As she cleaned the surface of her table, the package dropped to fall on her feet. Opening it swiftly, she found no parcel but the same message and the same newspaper. She started doubting herself a little and sat down in a thump, her teeth biting off all the nails from her fingers.

While she was in her trance of being fooled by someone, a long ring cut her train of thoughts.

"Why didn't you come to the office today?" she heard a stern voice from the other end of the line.

"Sir.." she dragged before completing "I am unwell, already posted on CoWork."

"Oh, take care," he said before disconnecting the call. She knew her boss was not the harsh man he was posing to be.

She treaded sluggishly and continued watching 'Minimalism' trying to forget of what might be a ploy to scam her.

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