Poisoned Arrow

I could not believe that a lodge could have such a name. Poisoned arrow. It was not a funny name. Rather, there was something eerie about it.

“Actually no one really knows why that place is called Poisoned Arrow,” said Rishad. “The family that owns it shifted to their palatial house in the city long back. Now it is used as a lodge. But it’s beautifully located, right in front of the lake. The kids will love it.”

It really was a beautiful lodge and the view from portico was enchanting. The boys were overjoyed. They had never been to such a place.

The manager was an old man. Out of curiosity I asked him, “Why is it called Poisoned Arrow?”

“I don’t know but I heard some rumours when I first came here…… about thirty years ago, one evening the person who owned this lodge was standing in the portico somewhere over there,” he stopped for a moment and pointed to one end of the portico. “Out of nowhere an arrow came and hit him in the chest. He wasn’t wounded but……. he died after a few days. They said that the doctor who examined him suspected that he had been hit by a poisoned……...”

The manager suddenly let out a terrifying scream. He stumbled and fell down like broken tree.

He had been hit in the chest by an arrow.

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A post for A to Z April Challenge

Today’s letter P

You can read my previous story here.

O