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The Full Moon by Dipayan Chakrabarti

28/3/2021

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As the eastern sky turned red, Tisca got up from her bed. The soft wind caressed her skin as she gazed at the large, purplish-blue flowers through the bedroom window. The rays of the summer sun caught the zigzagging wings of the Himalayan quails and pigeons which created patterns across the sky in Darjeeling town. She looked at the snow-capped peaks that dazzled brilliantly. Her eyes twinkled with happiness as she glanced at the lush green slopes and the distinctive tea plantations that dot the surrounding slopes. Suddenly, Tisca remembered that she had a romantic meeting with Aryan.
Tisca bounced into the streets of Darjeeling soon afterwards in a yellow tunic. The fresh and fun walk boosted her spirit. The young girls shopped until they dropped. She strolled beneath the clear blue skies. A sweet smell floated in the air, and everyone got crazy over leisurewear.
Aryan arrived in his black SUV. His vigorous frame appeared shapeless and frayed as he peered through the car window. The professional painter looked stark-stylish in a sporty summer jacket. Suddenly, a feeling of happiness seized Tisca.
“Hi honey, are you ready to roll?” Aryan asked his fiancée in his sexy baritone, stepping off his car. His self-consciousness didn’t irritate Tisca. “Yeah love,” she replied.
That time Ash arrived. Her breasts swung under her clingy yellow frock as she
walked, her shapely legs surged ahead in perfect grace. “Bye mate, till tomorrow,” Ash waved to her friend, giggling. Tisca waved to her as Aryan drove off from the hustle and bustle of Darjeeling town. She stared at the old street lamps that lit up the vague houses.
 
 
Tisca gazed at the thick streaks of red which stretched from the western horizon to the surrounding hills. When dusk settled over the hills, the temperature dropped filling the evening air with a nip and freshness. After some time, they reached a luxurious resort.
Tucked away right under the nose of noisy  Darjeeling  town  the  swanky  resort lay like a love letter, waiting for a wandering soul to stumble upon it. Aryan and Tisca entered an expensive suite of the resort after a sumptuous dinner. The ornate living room dazzled them.
On the morning, Tisca stood by the balcony door looking absently at the blurred distance. She soaked some morning sun as a nippy breeze gently touched her face. The stormy moments of the night appeared and reappeared before her eyes. The birds twittered delightedly.
Aryan slept through the morning. Tisca took great pleasure in looking at the excess of beauty. The sun rose higher in the clear sky.
Aryan’s naked frame made a pale outline on the frosted glass of the hotel toilet
when Tisca got in. She entered into the toilet while Aryan took a bath.
Through the windowpanes of the suite sunrays streamed in comfortable and warm. “Get ready, candy-floss,” Aryan said in a cheerful tone as he stood in front of the mirror. “Yeah darling,” Tisca replied, tittering. “Let’s chat and chill over coffee,” proposed Tisca. “Sure babe,” Aryan drawled. As the clock struck eight, Aryan drifted across the hotel lobby towards the car park.
Aryan drove past the monastery as the car crawled towards Darjeeling town. Tisca gazed at the greens with a heavy heart, as good times always pass quickly. “You are home, babe,” Aryan said. His voice woke Tisca up from dreaminess.

“How was your date?” Ash asked, smiling wryly. Tisca only smiled. The memories of
the tumultuous night in the resort kept coming back to her all the time.
Tisca enjoyed the calm of the afternoon as the sun played hide - and - seek behind the clouds. The lone dove startled her when it cooed. The music teacher’s soprano voice streamed through the humid air into her ears when Tisca crossed the music school.
The sun set slowly, turning the sky into a shade of tangerine. The night grew darker and darker. After some drinks Tisca and Ash dropped their clothing and stood bare before each other. Only a dim blue light emitted from the night lamp. Tisca turned it off.
Tisca's eyes opened suddenly in the middle of that night.  She  came  out  on  the Juliet balcony. She gazed at the flickering lights of a sleepy Kurseong town. A light breeze provided relief and freshness. It enveloped the whole universe. The lights rippled and danced. Overwhelmed, she gazed upwards till her neck ached.
Suddenly, Tisca heard the familiar sound of footsteps behind her. “What’s up?” Ash asked. Her voice broke the absolute silence. “I’ve missed my dates,” Tisca croaked. “Don’t delay to consult your gynaecologist,” Ash suggested. “I’ll do that,” Tisca replied.
Elegantly decorated, with a peaceful and friendly atmosphere, the clinic, distinguished itself by its comfort.  The doctor examined her. “You are pregnant,” he said, “congratulations.” Ash came to the rescue of her friend. “I owe you a party, sissy,” she said. Ash pretended to be delirious with joy as they hurriedly left the room.
Tisca's throat dried up. Her whole frame shook violently when the faces of her dear ones appeared before her eyes. An eerie chill went down her spine. Tears  trickled down her cheeks. “Arrange to meet Aryan tomorrow, baddie,” Ash suggested in a sympathetic tone. “Thanks mate,” Tisca said, wiping her tears with a handkerchief. Aryan absented himself from his office the next day. The dream of spending every single beautiful day together with him for the  rest  of her  life  thrilled  Tisca despite her restlessness. Ash and Tisca drove off towards Aryan's residence  along  the stunning scenic beauty. The charming bungalow soothed their eyes. The hustle and bustle of Darjeeling failed to touch the solitude of the double-floored bungalow, perched on a hillock. Two security guards watched over the huge iron gates. Tisca slipped in a small piece of paper. A  butler  greeted  them.  “Don’t worry.  Go  ahead,” Ash said, parking her Harley.
The ground-floor piazza of the house let in the sky, and the greenery reached in through the large bay windows. The soft, expensive materials, rich and plush furniture and other luxuries failed to lessen Tisca's unease. She perked up when a bone china cup containing a sparkling clear liquid of a  light  straw  colour  was handed to her at the posh bungalow. It tasted mildly astringent, and it had a faint woody aroma. Every sip of that warm tea filled her mouth with freshness.
Suddenly, a gorgeous woman appeared. “Hi, I’m Rose, wife of Aryan,” she said in a husky voice.” “Is he in?” Tisca queried. “No, I’m sorry,” the woman replied.
“Looking gloomy, sissy!” said Ash, when Tisca came out. She kept quiet. Ash drove on until the riders reached their door. After a while, Tisca gazed blankly at the blurred distance through the open windows.
Aryan turned up late to his office the next day. Tisca entered the room while shafts of light streamed into the cubbyhole through the window. The green tea plantations soothed the eyes. Aryan agreed to meet his lover at the old restaurant.
 
Tisca shivered in the unusually cold weather, but it was nice and warm inside the small restaurant. The soft and melodious notes that floated in the air charmed her. Aryan walked in while the sun disappeared behind the hills. “I’m pregnant,”

Tisca said, bluntly. “Are you serious?” Aryan asked as an expression of shock and disbelief crossed his face. Absence of further response signified his disapproval, and a deafening silence descended. Aryan looked pale as if he was unwell. A canopy of mists floated over the valleys dimming the distant lights. All the lights in the restaurant suddenly went off, plunging the building into darkness.
“Aren’t you happy?” Tisca said as the power returned within a second. “Come on baby, abort it,” Aryan said casually, sipping a cup of coffee. His facial expression changed in the blink of an eye. A fearful and unfamiliar look replaced the old swagger. Aryan’s face grew pale. “I have decided to keep the baby,” Aryan dashed out through the glass door, his feet thumping softly on the carpet.
“I have walked out on Aryan,” Tisca said to Ash in a quavering voice.       “Oh my god!” exclaimed Ash. “He has never loved me,” Tisca muttered in anguish and anger.
Tisca found Facebook posts dull and boring. One morning Tisca froze on her touch-
screen mobile.” Ash, please come here,” Tisca cried out, alarmingly.
Ash ran to the study from the kitchen. “Are you okay, bud?”
Silence reigned in the room. Tears trickled down uncontrollably as Tisca clung to her. Embarrassment and extreme grief created a lump in her throat. Her voice choked in the anguish of a loss that knew no recompense.
“What are these, dear?” Ash said looking at the morphed images Aryan had
uploaded on Facebook. Her anxious voice broke the silence.
 
Life was pretty hectic, and she couldn’t run away from it.
Moonlight came in through the curtains, lighting up Tisca’s body and soul.
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    Issue 6 & 7

    November 2020
    December 2020



    The Stories & Poems

    All
    ​After The Lockdown By Sabdapalan
    A Helping Hand By Christina Westwood
    A Little Hard Work By Carrie Hynds
    ​All Hallows Eve By Jane Bidder
    A Party? By Felicity Edwards
    A Red Breakfast By Graham Crisp
    Autumnal Muse By Yasmin Nabavi
    ​Autumn Equinox By Hilary Taylor
    Bartlett
    Beached By Maisie Bishop
    Bloodrite By Dean Hodsfry
    Bob & Phyllis By Liz Breen
    ​Broken By Allison Xu
    ​Cherie By Paul Warnes
    Christmas Cheers By Elaine Peters
    Cloak Of The Wizard © Steve Lodge
    Come The Morning Stars By Conor O’Sullivan
    ​Cursed By The Sun By Hope Nguyen
    Delight In Every Bite By Nathalie Roos
    DIY By Andrew Ball
    ​Double Trouble By Vivienne Moles
    ​Dusk Hound By Sylvie Edwards
    Eve By Hilary Davies
    Evergreen By Samantha Priestley
    Exuding Chirpiness By Jonathan Hunter
    Faces Of Home By Michelle Weaver
    First Impressions By Jeff Jones
    First Kiss By Andrew Ball
    Footsteps By Savanna Naylor
    Forever Gone By Hilary Taylor
    Gargoyles By Stephen Isle
    Glass By John Morris
    Hologram Futures By Alyson Hilbourne
    Home Remedies By Eva Bell
    ​How I Lost My Lover By Liz O’Shea
    I Don’t Like Cheats By Patsy Collins
    I'll See You When I Get There By Thomas Morgan
    Imaginary Friends By Andrew Ball
    Interconnected By Ena Catlin
    Isodel By Darren Smith
    Kings And Pawns By Dutch Simmons
    ​Letting Go By Carrie Hynds
    Log Me In By Paul Warnes
    Mask Dilemma By Elaine Peters
    Mavis’s Cosy Christmas Cottage By Jonathan Hunter
    ​Misty Mountain Feliz Piez
    Mixed Signals Or Moonbeams By Steve Lodge
    Monster Under The Bed By Patricia Green
    Mrs Stepney's Stepdaughter By Betty Hasler
    Murderous Intent By Jeff Jones
    Nifty-Fifty
    Number 69 By Eve Naden
    One Each By Andrew Ball
    One More Week By Liz Breen
    On The Meeting Of Two Minds By Ronald T Hardwick
    Pas De Deux Redux By Adele Evershed
    ​Peace In Our Time By Eve Naden
    Phil In Real Life By Sam Szanto
    ​Quantum Entanglement By Ingrid Wilson
    Roisin's Party By James Ellson
    ​Rounded Over By M H Pitcher
    Shielding By Graham Crisp
    Something Fishy Going On By Adele Evershed
    Sorry By Elaine Peters
    The Apology By Graham Crisp
    The Avenging Ghost By Eva Bell
    The Best Jest By Shelley Crowley
    The Big Issue By Steve Goodlad
    The Day With The Birds By Liz Breen
    The Dog And The Old Sailor By Ronald Hardwick
    ​The Eye Of The Shrike By Crescentia Morais
    The Full Moon By Dipayan Chakrabarti
    ​The Greater Handful By Stephen Goodlad
    The Grief Eater By Christina MacKinnon
    The Healing Stone By Katie Winkler
    The Hourglass By Madelaine Taylor
    The Last Time By Pat Mudge
    The Making By Madelaine Taylor
    The Mourner By Hilary Taylor
    The Perfect Date By Hilary Taylor
    The Phone Call By Elaine Peters
    The Plan By Hilary Taylor
    The Post-Lockdown Holiday By David A Jones
    The Queen Of The Forest By Renee Gerald
    The Ransom Note By Steve Goodlad
    The Secret To Staying Young By Saul Greenblatt
    The Tap By Beverley Byrne
    The Thing By Taqwa
    The Visit By Graham Crisp
    ​The Wanderer By BC Nwata
    The Wedding Dress By Elizabeth O’Shea
    The Winter Tree By The Somnambulist Society
    Volume Control By Grace Tierney
    ​Washing Up RJ Gardham
    Watching By Natasha Weber
    What's In A Name? By Ian Inglis
    Where Do We Go When We Die? By Matt Allen
    Wilhelmina Turns Eighty By Anita G. Gorman


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Secret Attic - Founded March 2020