Wednesday, 8 July 2015


‘I have reached the waterfall; now what?’
‘But why did you go to the waterfall? I have been waiting here for half an hour and you think it’s a joke.’
‘Would I dare to joke with the person who has kidnapped my little daughter? I have the ransom money. Now don’t you oppress me and tell me where you are?’
‘I had said, and very clearly, that you would come to The Waterfront. It is the same building that was attacked by the terrorists last year. Everyone in the town knows the place. How the hell did you reach the waterfall? And which waterfall it is?’
It hit him like a lightening. 
How could he make such a mistake? He was at least a hundred miles from The Waterfront. About fifty people had got killed in last year’s attack on that building. Today his little girl would die.
‘I will come over there, I am already on my way,’ he cursed himself for making such a disastrous mistake.
‘You were supposed to have reached here half an hour back.’
He prayed that someone in the police had been listening to this conversation.
A post for Sunday PhotoFiction