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Short Story #3: Overnight Celebrity

Updated: Oct 10, 2020


Read Previous Chapter here.

Previously on Overnight Celebrity: Aron had finished his morning martial arts class on the terrace and came back to his home.

Aron finished showering and went to the bedroom. It was a small room. The house had two bedrooms; he used the smaller room to sleep while the larger room was set-up as a mini gym. It had a punching bag hanging at the centre, a rower, a leg press, a pec deck and an olympic weight machine, four set dumbbells and a Swiss ball. The walls were adorned with Bruce Lee and ancient Indian warfare posters. Contrastingly, the cramped smaller bedroom only had a wooden cot which occupied most of the room and a very large mirror. There was little space to walk around.

Aron quickly changed into tracks and looked into the mirror. He performed Yoko Geri, the powerful side thrust kick from Kung Fu with his left leg. And then directed few quick punches towards his mirror image. Looking deeply into his mirror, he said to his image, "Today is the day! You are gonna be famous, and you'll get more students to your class." He had been saying this for the forty eight days now.

He then quickly changed dress to his office attire; a checked formal shirt with a blue tie and a black pant. He came to pick his mobile and saw the mail; Your life is going to change today! Excited, he unlocked the mobile and opened the mail.

Subject: Your life is going to change today!

Get to know what is going to happen today.

Checkout your daily horoscope at ....

It was a spam mail. Aron became frustrated and deleted the mail. He strode out of home, locked the front door and came down to the parking garage of the building. As usual there was another motor bike which was parked just between his bike and the exit gate. It belonged to the first floor guy. Irrespective of telling him umpteen number of times not to park in front of his bike and block the way out, this guy had made it as a habit to serve as a source of infuriation to Aron's morning schedule.

He tramped towards the other bike, lifted it slightly and pushed it away from his bike's pathway. He opened the exit gate then sat on his bike. He started the two wheeler and rode towards his office.

A few kilometers away, in one of the avenue streets, lay an ostentatious but small jewellery shop. It was still early morning and the night watchman was sitting in a chair, at the entry door waiting impatiently for the next security guard to take over the duties. He was over his sixties, with wizened skin and a thin body. The street usually crowded during the peak hours, was now dead silent with a couple of pedestrians moving along the pathway.

The watchman was becoming fretful now; the other guard should have come to take over the shift half an hour before. His eyes glanced across the street; a fat guy was jogging at a far distance along the side pavement, couple of guys were smoking at the end of the street end. He turned back to see the jewellery shop. His eyes widened in shock. The entry door was unlocked. He remembered he had locked the door yesterday night and he had slept only for a short duration, an hour or two. Flummoxed by the confusing thoughts, he looked inside the shop and he was horrified at the sight. He froze for a second.

There was a masked man inside who was swiftly snatching all the jewels, gems, gold chains and whatever he could into a duffel bag. After a brief moment of being paralyzed, the watchman recollected himself. He tried shouting and calling for help but his voice was very feeble, for his throat had been incapacitated over the aging years. He couldn't shout loud. However, hearing the watchman scream, the masked man inside became alert and started to frantically snatch all jewels he could and zipped the bag. Aware of the unlocked entry door, he removed his mask and rushed towards the door.

The watchman now realizing that his screams are futile decided to run to the jogging fat guy and call him for help. But when he turned to the shop he saw the man, now unmasked, running towards the door.

[To be continued]


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