PREIKSHA JAIN - The Cave: Secrets Within

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THE CAVE: SECRETS WITHIN

PREIKSHA JAIN

2019 Preiksha Jain

All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof must not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any meanselectronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwisewithout prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by Indian copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, at Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the address below:

Acknowledgement

Acknowledgements are the sincerest form of thanking every person who has been there with me in the journey of writing this book. Without being sincerely grateful, I wouldnt be able to tell my people how they have helped me bring this book out finally.

First of all, my biggest and warmest gratitude is to Bushra Rahmani, without whom the editing, the cover and each piece of importance wont have come to existence. I thank you, Bushra Rahmani, for being a constant companion and a critique, encouraging me to keep writing, having faith in me that I could write well, reading and re-reading the draft time and again and educating me on every single mistake and how I could rectify it. Thank you, for being patient with me, for listening to my meaningless rants, for directing me to become a better Preiksha. If after God there is one person I can trust, for everything good I do or will do, that is you. And of course, without all the fights and arguments between us, I wont have known the most real truth of my life; my life is nothing without you.

Now, I want to thank my sister, Samiksha Jain whose faith in me never once did waver. She has been an inspiration, a motivator and the most positive person in my life and without her consistent encouragement, I am not sure if I were ever able to recognise my abilities. Thank you, Samiksha, I love you.

I thank Arjun Jain, my husband, whose non-nagging nature enabled me to work on my book with peace and whose honesty and goodness ensured that I could accomplish something for myself. I thank him for keeping out our kids while I worked and managing them whenever I seemed to be losing patience. And I thank him for taking me out every time I felt low or hungry or discouraged. I owe you big time for this and all the pizzas you bought me.

A warm thanks go to my mother and mother in law who never stopped me from pursuing my dreams, who believed that I was different from others and accepted my nature. I thank them for never enforcing their ideas or suggestions on me and letting me grow with my time and teaching me the greatest of great values of morality and practicality. You are the most important women for me, and I respect and love both of you with each ounce of honesty in me.

Preface

Some dreams never let you sleep. And some dreams you dread sleeping back to. And there are some dreams which turn your life into a different and a better direction.

This book is conceived of a dream. A basic, noiseless dream which you see while you are sleeping. The characters of my book appeared in my dream and began forming a story around themselves. I woke up, and I was sweating, and I came to a realisation that there was no way I was letting this dream go of my brains. Hence, the book.

But it doesnt end here. Months of writing and re-writing the 'best' chapters of this book, I saw another vivid dream which lasted long in my memory and gave me a real fright even before I woke up. I meddled with my brain into letting me incorporate that other dream into the story.

Naturally, the first draft became 5000 words long, the second draft became 12,000 words long, and the now final draft touched the mark of 25,000 words. This novella has been appreciated, admired, criticised, and made better by my partner, Bushra Rahmani. I dont think that without her reading the story before release and all the suggestions and corrections, I could ever bring this story out in the form of a novella.

This story aims to reach out to all the people, touch their lives intimately and privately, and also to tell them that dreams are important.

The main characters of this book- Prachi, Shraddha and Agastya will bring out the true essence of a family, friends and love. The three pillars of life.

Without any further delay, I invite you to follow the Cave and unveil the mysteries within.

CHAPTER 1

T he whistle of the October wind blew, and his ears sprang up. It had happened only once before. He went outside. Looking around he found nothing but the eeriness remained.

He began walking. His eyes searched for the source. He still could not figure out what he was looking for. But he kept walking. The leaves were crushed under his steely phalanges, and the silence did not appear peaceful. He took it as a sign of a storm.

The trees around his cottage had been shedding their green clothing and had put on the cloak of yellowish orange colour. The Autumn was finally here, but the blithe was far away.

He was a few yards away from his cottage when his ears sprang up again. He took to his feet, and within seconds he reached his home. Upon entering the house with a whooshing sound, he found his father examining a motionless man's wound.

What happened, father? Who is this man?

The father said nothing instantaneously. But he motioned his son to bring a vial for collecting the lying mans fresh blood seeping through the veins in his arm.

Having brought one and handed over to the father, the son examined the man lying before them.

The wind broke into a spine chilling shrill, and the currents of mystery began to flow. He shrugged it off for a moment, but it kept returning.

He neared the lying frame of the man, and his ears sprang up, and the goosebumps on his skin arose.

Father, do you think we can save him? He asked his father as he caught a whiff of the man.

I think we can.

His father tried to unbutton the mans shirt.

But it was not a shirt. The father's hands felt the very skin attached with the robe he was donning. He looked at his son with questions etched on his forehead, and the son's ears stood unstably erect.

The son went inside his fathers chamber to fetch a scalpel. Handing it over to his father, he kneeled right beside him.

The father started to nick careful punctures right from where the seemingly first button lay.

Upon slitting the cloth a tad bit, more blood began to percolate. Thick crimson fluid, the smell of which the son could not bear. Feeling as though his heart would lurch out, he covered his mouth with his long phalanges but stayed there.

The scalpel was halfway through his chest when a smokey black line began appearing on the skin.

Father, what is this?

"Son, I think it's some mark," Father spoke with a dense gravity that muted the boy with thoughts.

"I may be wrong, but as far as I have understood, his condition is not merely an accident. I sense some evil." The father spoke, his eyes on the partially covered black mark on the man's chest.

They stayed there for another minute and began to collect the dried blood in the vial and looked upon the rotting redness.

The squint of the father converted into a gaze with shock registered in it as his eyes held a violent wave of questions.

Is there something wrong, father? The son asked already knowing the answer.

Do one thing, Son, bring a big coffer and put everything in it. Medicines, potions, herbs, vials, everything. Leave nothing behind. The father egged his son on to do the task quickly.

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